For Love of Evil - [Roman Godfrey/Hemlock Grove]

-30-

Approaching the Godfrey mansion, Peter slammed on the brakes, causing the tires to squeal. He wasn't expecting Roman to be standing in the middle of the road.

"What the fuck!" Peter yelled. Roman smacked his palms down on the hood of the car, his hand sliding down the side of the body until reaching the passenger window. Roman bent down, bracing his palms on his knees, wiping away the soot on his hands with a grimace.

He opened the door, climbing into the dingy cab. "Took you long enough." Roman spat, still wiping away the dirt on his hands.

"Where the fuck's your car?" Peter looked over at Roman, watching him place a cigarette in his mouth. At the rate he was smoking, cancer was going to kill him before Lyra ever had a chance to.

"At the motel... cops picked me up." Roman took a draw of his cigarette, rolling down the window a quarter of the way.

Peter's eyes narrowed quizzically. He assumed that maybe he and Lyra had a falling out, possibly a disagreement - maybe about the baby. He smirked at the thought of Lyra calling the cops on him - he actually took pride in the thought of Lyra having the guts to put Roman in his place for once; she was certainly the only one capable of doing it.

"Did Lyra finally discover just how ugly you really are?" Peter joked, gleaming from ear to ear as his eyes shifted to Roman. He saw his jaw clench; his expression turning into a menacing scowl.

Roman's gaze turned to Peter, his expression remaining the same. "There is no vargulf, Peter... just my mom. Olivia has been killing girls under a full moon... she's trying to frame you."

"No." Peter shook his head. "No, I saw it. There's two of them."

"Did you not hear what I just said? My mom is making it look like you're the one doing it. And Lyra-" Roman tossed his cigarette out the window, cranking the handle too forceful. Peter watched, wondering if it was going to break off in his hand. "She wants to kill Lyra. That's why she killed Jane Doe, she-she thought it was Lyra." Roman stammered; the window crank miraculously unscathed.

"It's easy to feel that way about her. Hell, I wanted to kill Lyra the first time I met her." Peter chortled for his own amusement.

"This isn't funny!" Roman yelled. "She wants to slaughter my fucking family."

"Oh, so you're having a family now?" Peter replied with a sharp tongue. "Last night, you had plans on aborting it without Lyra's consent, but now you're talking about starting a-"

"Things have changed." Roman spoke low, but loud. "It's... it's part of Lyra. I can't get rid of it because it's part of her."

Peter scoffed, reaching for the partially smoked joint resting in the ashtray under the dash. Roman sat up in the seat, his elbow resting on his knee, facing Peter. "You got something you wanna say?" Roman challenged.

Peter rolled his eyes, removing a Bic lighter from his vest, igniting the flame. He controlled the wheel with his knee, lighting up the joint and taking a drag before handing it off to Roman. He needed it - Roman was on the verge of a mental breakdown, that much was for certain.

Roman took the joint, pinching the end with his forefinger and thumb, waiting for Peter to say what was on his mind before he took a draw. Peter saw the stubbornness in Roman's actions; he sighed loudly, saving the suspense for another time, considering his joint was at stake.

"I just think you're trying to feed me horse-shit. Just fucking admit it - you don't want Lyra to get rid of it because you're afraid she won't want you anymore. You think that kid is the only thing keeping you guys together... well, it's not." Peter held out his hand, gesturing for the joint back; his eyes staying on the road.