“Yes, yes. Your cobbler was marvelous, Margo. Truly.”

It was the eighth time that Margo had asked how her peach cobbler, which had been her mother’s recipe and her mother’s before that, and it was the eighth time that Vlad had replied in the same calm and polite fashion. His thin lips barely moved, and his cold eyes didn’t blink. His hands remained neatly folded in his lap, similar to Agatha’s pose, sitting almost serenely next to him. But their eyes met quickly, only for the briefest of moments, and after three hundred and sixty-seven years together, they could read each other’s thoughts.

No, not in the cliché manner shown by Hollywood nor spoken about in those young adult novels. It was a type of telepathy that anyone could learn, regardless of their mortal status. It was telepathy known by lovers gifted with more time than any could hope to have.

And that thought shared between the two: “Please let them call it a night and show us to the door.”

“Where were you from again, Vad? I mean, I can always place an accent, but I am having trouble with yours. Maine, I think?” Teddy, Margo’s husband, interrupted that shared thought. Vlad didn’t correct him on his name; at this point, it would only spur more conversation. And that was something neither Agatha nor Vlad wanted.

Three hours now. Three ungodly hours that the two had waited, suffered through. All because of those damnable yellow floral drapes that had sat open the whole time and the birthday party for that insufferable brat across the street. Had to be at least twenty children running back and forth across the street, some visibly looking right at the windows, at the four of them now sitting in faded couches around a short, squat coffee table, four small plates sitting there with half-touched cobbler remains.

Was keeping a low profile, despite being hunted across their homeland and now to this new country, worth this, this, this punishment?

And now, neither Vlad nor Agatha were interested in the slightest bit at the thought of making a meal of these two. The only reason they had even targeted Margo and Teddy, the couple that ran a small auto shop for years until Teddy had to retire, because he couldn’t stop slipping this or pulling that or giving himself a hernia over the least thing was because the elderly couple was secluded in the community. People politely avoided them. No one would miss them.

The eternal couple understood why that was now. In the past three hours, Margo and Teddy had only stopped talking to shovel a bite of cobbler into their mouths. Even when they were eating, they were annoying. Vlad’s ears picked up everything, including the pulpy chewing sound from their gaping maws as they refused to close their mouths while eating.

Agatha’s eyes occasionally flicked to the front door and back faster than the mortals could have comprehended. Vlad was thinking the same, cursing the same thing. That blasted need to be shown back out the door. Immortality, strength, and heightened senses meant nothing if they couldn’t just stand up, bid the old man and woman a good night, and leave. It was the worst kind of prison.

“New Hampshire? I mean, it’s practically the same, right?”

If he could sigh, Vlad would have. “Romania. In Europe. We immigrated last….” Teddy cut him off mid-sentence and stood up from the couch.

“Hey, sweetie,” Teddy said, looking at Margo, “the slides from when we went to Greece are still in the projector, right.” He turned to Vlad and Agatha. “It’ll be like looking at home, won’t it? Wait until you see the pictures from the cruise. You got to see the outfit Margo picked up in Athens.” Teddy went around the couch and walked through the open archway into what Margo had described as their ‘nice sitting room.’ Vlad and Agatha weren’t good enough for the nice sitting room, apparently.

Agatha seemed to see her opportunity. Her low, gentle voice perked up. “I can help close the curtains for you.”

Margo raised a hand and shook it. “Oh no, dear. Don’t tell Teddy I said anything to you about it, but he still hasn’t fixed that rod yet, and if you try to move it, the whole thing will come down right on you.” She laughed like she had some private joke to herself. “And it’s dark enough; you don’t need to worry about the curtains.”

Vlad and Agatha glanced at each other again, then at the window. Three children stood right outside, the oldest no more than five, staring in at them. All the faces were smeared with cake frosting.

Teddy came back out with a cardboard box in his arms. “You know, Margo. We never sorted out the other slides from that convention in Arizona we went to.” The rustling of what sounded like thousands of slides came from the box with each bounce in Teddy's arms.

Margo laughed. “Well, these two would love to see those as well. There was a Liberace impersonator there that I swore was the real guy.” She turned back to the other two. “Oh, you’ve got to see it all.”

They couldn’t leave until they were allowed, the glance between Vlad and Agatha said. Unless the masters of the home weren’t in any position to give that allowance.

Agatha looked to Vlad, and he nodded the very slightest nod. They could always go low profile somewhere else, try again somewhere more… not here.