“Pickles.”

“Huh?”

“I want pickles.”

I blink in confusion once, twice, as my brain processes the words that came from Cameron’s mouth.

“You want.. Pickles?”

She sighs with the vaguest hint of annoyance, patience running short, “Yes, I really do! Do you have any idea just how long it’s been since I’ve had them?! Not since I turned! Can you believe it? A whole century without pickles! And now they have so many more flavors, and vegetables, and spices, and types that smell SO GOOD! Did you know they even do pickled baby corn now? I’m absolutely dying to try it. I just.. I want to eat a whole jar in one go. And drink the brine after. It sounds absolutely divine.”

I chew my lip for a moment, mulling over her desires and suggestion, “But.. don’t most have garlic in them? Isn’t that kind of an.. uh.. Issue?”

I hear a small scoff with a following bemused chuckle, “Oh garlic, shmarlick. You know that’s just a myth, right? We just have a slight intolerance to solid food since it doesn’t quite ‘replenish’ us as we need, essentially it can’t be digested as properly as it should be, especially if we’re malnourished. But this—“ she touches her growing stomach for emphasis, “—changes things a bit. Half human, half me. Blood being produced inside of me once again, exchanging with my bits of essence in a strange form of symbiotic existence. Getting touches of my immortality for a bit of their mortality—“

My brain was starting to swim. This whole situation was very much out of my depth, but I love her so I try my best to understand despite our ever-clear differences.
“So basically, since you’re pregnant with a human child, you can better fulfill human cravings and needs?”

“Half human, but yes.” She flashes me a toothy grin, patting her belly happily.
“I don’t need to drink blood right now, as you’ve probably noticed. All the blood I need is already in my system, so I’m closer to humanity than I’ve been in a very, very long time.”

She looks down as her expression turns sullen for a brief moment, some mix between melancholic and nostalgic. Within a second, however, she’s back to her usual self. “This isn’t a permanent solution, of course. And I don’t want it to be, I’m happy being me, what I am. I’ve come to accept and love myself again. But I do want to take advantage of this while it lasts, especially since I do not want to go through this again, Gods Below, this has been an absolute pain in my ass.”

She groans as she stretches back to relax, giving in to the aches and pains by letting herself be swallowed in the nest of fluffy pillows and blankets that cover our bed. I smile sympathetically and lean over to kiss her forehead, my aim going off as she swivels her head to lock her eyes on to mine, speaking quickly with commanding undertones smoothly lacing her voice.

“Now, about those pickles…”