The Wicked and the Meek
There was an evening concert happening in Millennium Park, a symphony playing traditional seasonal music for a crowd of people bundled in winter clothing under a tent. Francess, who loved classical music, had been planning to go since she saw an advertisement in the paper, but had forgotten about it in the panic of switching places with Melinda.

It was by accident that she wandered by it. She didn't know where else to go and had been walking around for the better part of two days. She was also cold, but didn't want to go for a heavier coat. Where could she go? Francess was beginning to think of herself as a refugee. She only dared to stop into her apartment for brief periods of time, such as when she changed her shoes, fearing that Connor might throw her out for being an intruder. At Melinda's place, the roommates would undoubtedly notice differences in her if she opened her mouth.

At the back of the crowd, she hugged her lightweight coat tight and shifted foot to foot. A few times, men gave her particular looks, a kind she was unaccustomed to receiving. It was totally bizarre being checked out in a body that wasn't hers.

Christmas music had always touched a distant sort of chord with Grace. As a human, she'd celebrated the holidays intermittently, even when she was overseas in England. As a vampire, Christmastime meant both crowds that were easy to lose herself in while she hunted and the occasional theft that got lost in the shuffle of consumerism.

She'd wandered over to Millennium Park out of boredom, noticed flyers tacked up onto several telephone poles as she got closer to the place where the concert was being held. Sharp ears picked up the sound of instruments being tuned, and she tucked her hands into her pockets as she blended in with the warmer bodies gathered to hear the music. The night was clear, the wispy clouds scudding past the moon on a brisk breeze. Grace listened to the opening strains of 'O Holy Night', glanced around at the other attendees.

The sight of Melinda had the vampire's eyebrows scrunching together, because the brunette hardly seemed like the type to go for this sort of thing, especially in this weather, but maybe she was with someone else. Grace slipped back into the crowd and then behind the other woman. She felt like they'd been making progress towards a more physical relationship, and she wondered how the human was thinking of her now. It was important to keep track of her project, after all.

"Hey, baby."

She was right behind the mortal when she said it, and her arms went around Melinda's waist for a hug that was a little more than just friendly. "You miss me?"

Francess jumped mile-high, the way only someone unaccustomed to intimate touches could be. The borrowed body wasn't as sensitive or ticklish as hers, but the shock of the contact still resonated. "I-- whoa!" Rising up on her toes and peeling out of the stranger's arms, she turned around to give her the sort of shame-shame expression a Sunday school teacher might give a naughty pupil. "Oh." Because she was quick, Fran realized she was looking at Grace, whom Melinda had identified as a romantic interest.

She wet her lips. Within the scrambling thoughts of her brain, she wondered if Melinda had told the vampire about the swap, and in the next second, understood she couldn't possibly know if she was feeling her up like that. Could she? What should she do?

"Damn, sorry. Didn't mean for ya to freak." Grace hooked her left thumb into her belt loop, jutted her right hip out. "Didn't figure to find you here, but I wanted to say hey. Didn't you say you didn't really do the whole Christmas thing?"

She indicated the symphony group, who were closing in on the middle of the first number, the people around who were smiling their approval of their efforts. "You're not with those roommates of yours, are you? That rude thing that answered the door the other time? Or are you stag tonight?"

Francess wasn't familiar with the roommate in question, but was infinitely glad she had not gone to Melinda's, given that review. "I was just walking..," she hedged, and recognized it in herself. A voice in the back of her head urged her to be more forthright. Melinda had shown no sign of timidity in the public restroom, had she? Just the opposite. Her posture straightened. "Pssh, I'm not with them, who needs them?" she blurted, shrugging dismissively and blinking a few times. "I'm stag tonight."

Curiosity over the vampire kicked in, and Fran looked over her outfit, which struck her as utilitarian and not-so-feminine, or expensive. Really, Melinda was with her? Maybe she should reassess her opinion of the other girl. She remembered the discount shoes. It's all about appearances.

Grace poked the tip of her tongue at the inside of her cheek, shifted most of her weight over onto her other foot. Now that she was closer, she could see the occasional looks the brunette was getting from the guys nearby, and it raised her hackles a little. "You wanna go sit?" she asked, indicating some chairs that had been set up. "I saw somebody peddlin' cider when I came in, you look like you could use a cup. One thing about being how I am, the cold don't get to me."

She slid her arm around the other woman's waist, partly because she figured they were past the jumpy phase and partly to warn off any interlopers. Her hand found the curve of a hip that was gradually becoming familiar, and she said, "C'mon, I'll get ya a seat, then something warm to drink."

How to handle the situation was a mystery to Francess. She considered fessing up the vampire, but wasn't sure how she'd react... if she might blame Francess for the mishap. If she ran off, she might ruin Melinda's romance, but she couldn't exactly stand there and be groped, could she? First dibs on waist-holding went to Avery. Spinning away from the encircling arm with a mild hiccuping sound and a giggle to cover it, Francess said, "Oh I can get the seats! You go on and... get the cider."

Nod, nod.

She felt so short next to Grace, and had to remind herself that the undead woman wasn't actually an Amazon. Habit had her reaching for the curling end of a ponytail, but it wasn't there. She scratched her shoulder to disguise it.

The vampire cut through the crowd, found the cider kiosk and bought a cup of the spiced concoction to carry it back to the area with the seats. The brunette was still playing hard to get, she guessed, but never mind. It took more time to get used to some things than to others. She took the chair next to Melinda and handed over the cup, crossed one foot over the other as 'God Rest Ye, Merry Gentlemen' started up in the wake of applause for the first song.

"Didn't figure you for bein' much of a classical fan," she remarked, wondering if she could get away with lighting up without getting too many dirty looks. "Guess with school on break you're lacking for entertainments, though."

The cup of cider was warm in Fran's hands, a comfort for which she was grateful. She said thanks and took a sip, and it was hot enough that she could trace its path all the way to her stomach. Which was tightening with nerves. Having never been a good liar, she wondered how to spin up something believable without looking like a hanged dog. Maybe she could think of it as acting. The part of Melinda would be played tonight by Francess Penn.

"I couldn't stay in," she said, coaching herself to invent a Melinda response based on a limited interaction. "You know, I was bored out of my gourd." Would Melinda have such good posture? Probably not. She crossed her legs and slouched a bit, but only a little. "Even this is better than listening to..." Oh god, what was her name?! "My roommate prattle on, like I care." Sip. Francess rolled her wrist in an attempt not to fidget.

"She's a dolt," Grace said comfortably, having decided to forgo a cigarette until later. "Next time you'll do better in that lottery thing or whatever you called it. Can't get no worse, I'm sure."

Somebody shushed her, and the vampire slouched farther down in her chair, giving Melinda's legs a surreptitious ogle. Maybe later they could go someplace more private, maybe get a bottle of something. "You look really good tonight, by the way."

Fran's lips pressed together. "Thanks." Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, she focused on a cellist. Perhaps she should've changed into sweatpants earlier, or something equally frumpy. With many layers. As it was, Francess had rushed through the process of changing clothes with her eyes squeezed shut in an attempt to give Melinda some privacy, and nearly broken her elbow on a bedpost. She rubbed the sore spot now. Compliment her back, encouraged her inner acting coach. "You look... h-hot. I was noticing earlier. The way your," she struggled for an appropriate female feature, "Chest looks."

What?!

Mortification made a blush creep up her throat. Breathing deeply, Francess closed her eyes and prayed for the moment to slip past uneventfully.

There was something bizarrely precious about the way Melinda said that, and Grace snickered, reminding herself that the brunette hadn't fooled around with other women before. "Well, thanks," she said, trying to keep the mirth out of her voice. "I don't think I've heard it phrased quite like that before, but thanks anyway."

The band played on, as it were, and when the concert was a third of the way through the vampire casually placed a hand just above the human's knee. Nothing obvious, not so overt that the closest people to them would make note of it, but the contact would be obvious enough between the two of them. Physical creature that she was, Grace saw no reason not to touch when it had been established that she was attracted, and she got the feeling that Melinda found a sort of subversive thrill out of it herself.

Her fingertips pressed lightly into the soft place behind the brunette's leg, an almost ticklish touch. She had always been a sucker for a good pair of legs.

The legs in question were trembling. Francess clenched her thighs together, as if it would exert control over the knee-knocking terror, but to no avail. Her inner dialogue was growing more frantic by the moment. She felt oddly violated, but it wasn't Grace's fault. "You know what," she said, putting on a sour face. "I don't think this cider's sitting too well." Tipping the cup to examine its contents. "I better head home."

What if she offers to walk you there?

"I can get a taxi." There, that should solve it, right?

"Are you feelin' okay, darlin'?"

Grace was looking at her companion closely, and she regarded the cup suspiciously before adding, "This place is kinda lame anyhow. If you're not stayin', I might as well cruise on myself." She pondered the matter in silence for a minute, then slipped out of her seat.

"I'll take that cab with you," she decided, offering the human her hand. "The car's parked in the lot, no one will bother it. We can go inside where it's warm, maybe hang out and watch some TV." A brief pause, then; "Maybe if we get lucky and your place is empty, we could fool around a little. I won't take it too far if you don't want me to, but we can still do...whatever."

A little spark of worry began to burn in Fran's stomach when Grace stood up. By the time she'd described sharing a cab, going back to her place, and fooling around, that spark was the size of a California wildfire. There the vampire's hand was, open and waiting for her to take it, but straight-laced Francess had reached her upper limit. Fake her way through making out with a stranger? There was no way she could do it. Taking that hand would be the point of no return, and she had no intention of diving off that particular cliff.

The lesbian sex cliff. She hadn't even had any kind of sex.

Oh god, diving. Don't think diving! Her older brother's jokes about her sister's experimental phase came to mind. Gilbert had called Bea a 'muff diver'. Twelve-year-old Francess hadn't even known what a muff was.

She flinched. Oh god, she was going to freak out, she just knew it. Color rose in her cheeks, blossoming into bright patches. It got harder to regulate her breathing, and her face got that pin-prickles feeling, like she was going to need a paper bag to get a hold of herself. She squeezed her eyes shut and blurted out, "I'm-not-Melinda-I'm-Francess!"

"Shh!"

Francess? Who the hell was Francess? Was Melinda high?

"Knock it off," Grace muttered at the shusher, then sat back down so she could lower her voice. "We don't have to go all the way," she said, her tone clearly saying she thought she was being soothing. "You can stay as dressed as you like, I promise. You can even keep one foot on the floor if'n you want." The left corner of the vampire's mouth twitched upwards in a smirk, and she lowered her voice to a suggestive murmur.

"Sometimes it's better that way anyhow. Helps with traction."

Francess slapped her hands over her face, so hard it stung. An astonished squeak of, "Oh my god!" came through her fingers. Her brain was racing, frantically slamming shut doors to imagery that popped up here and there. She tried to think about something benign, like fluffy rabbits, but then those rabbits started humping each other.

"No, really, I'm Francess," she wailed, still behind the shield. "Francess Maureen Penn. I'm twenty years old. I work at Logan Theater. Melinda came in to use the bathroom and wash her hands. When we bumped shoulders, we switched bodies. It wasn't on purpose!"

The brunette's feet were locked around the legs of her chair, knees squeezed together tightly, as if fearing Grace would drag her off and try to do her. But then a worse possibility occurred: What if Grace tried to fool around with her right there? In the middle of Millennium Park, amidst the crowd and an evening of holiday music? She needed to escape. "I'm really sorry but I can't have sex with you!" She jumped to her feet and looked around at a sea of staring, startled faces. "I gotta go!"

Stumbling over an old man's legs, she cut into a different row and made her departure, figuring it'd be harder for Grace to give chase if she had to zig-zag through a crowd to do it.