Roleplay City
Infusco => INFUSCO: Enter The Shadows => The White Rabbit => Topic started by: The Cedar Witch on January 10, 2020, 11:05:50 AM
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Mostly reserved RP. First part of this is a car ride. PM to discuss inclusion.
As she went silently into the passenger's side of the car, Rachel felt like she was floating about two inches away from her body, thoughts racing too quickly for her to follow. Vibrant polaroid still shots of imagined scenarios like crime scenes without context rose above the whirlwind enough for her conscious mind to grab ahold -
Damien and Jake exploding into flames
Her wrists bound and rubbed raw
The seatbelt clicked at her hip -
Pierre doubled over, fire consuming his abdomen
The Demon's rippled abdomen glistening in sweat at the end of a mattress on the floor
and she adjusted the belt against her chest. Rachel let out a shaky exhale, hands curled into fists -
Her body broken and twisted, sprawled and bloody in an alley
- and squeezed her eyes shut. Nails bit into her palms as the car pulled out of the driveway. After a long moment of silence, she stole a glance at Damien.
"Are you okay?" she asked, speaking scarcely above a whisper.
-
He had to resist looking into the torrent of thoughts leaking from his human companion in the passenger seat while he drove a bit faster than the speed limit - his own anxieties were keeping him plenty busy. Pierre, newly healed, heading straight into a similar situation that had almost killed him before. Rachel, trapped in the White Rabbit while Damien willingly left her there to potentially fall into some trap. Laurent surfacing again after how many years (he knew, of course, that such a thing would happen eventually. He had planned for it and even expected it, but now he couldn't imagine the torment, rage, and helplessness it now filled him with to know that he was still there with physical proof). Rachel's palpable fright and disquieting (though understandable) display of anger... Damien couldn't help but listen to the pounding heart and nervous movements that Rachel was inadvertently directing his attention to, trying not to monitor or hover, or make it in anyway known that he was also worried about her in the overbearing way that he worried about, well, everything.
There was nothing good about any of this, and Damien regretted agreeing to let Jake take Rachel out of his sight for the evening. What had happened was almost the worst case scenario. And now, his very last instinct was to abandon Rachel somewhere while Laurent prowled the city. For the thousandth time he couldn't help but remember Zeus's words in his ears, suggesting to him that he - essentially - use Rachel as bait to catch the shadow demon. Damien's lips were closed and his teeth were clamped tightly together as he drove. He didn't notice the ache in his jaw until Rachel's words drew his attention away from the internal conflict.
Damien tried to smile at her as her words registered, hoping it had come off at least somewhat hopeful and without concern. He had his doubts. He dropped one hand from the steering wheel and slipped his fingers between hers, lifting Rachel's hand up to his lips for a quick kiss, an ache for her safety flaring up again in his chest.
"Yes, I'm fine," he lied smoothly, naturally. He had hundreds of years of experience resisting the urge to act upon his emotions, the trainings first of a soldier, then as a fledge. It was an act he perfected in the years after Lucretia had died, shutting everything away in order to survive until it had become dull and hard inside of him. He had had an untouchable air to him, one that nothing could puncture.
Yet for some reason that he himself didn't understand, the young woman seated next to him was responsible for dissolving that wall between himself and his emotions. She could see through much of his anguish now, that stoney-faced mask with which he ran his business and his empire. With Rachel, he could allow himself to feel things again, to begin the process of moving past his grief and frustration, to open up and feel comfort, warmth, and lov--
"Are you okay?" He rubbed his fingers over the half circles she had pressed into the palms of her hand and said nothing else about them. It wasn't their presence that bothered him, but the fact that she had felt something strong enough to allow them to occur. "Don't worry, Rache. It will only be for a few hours. You will have Pierre and Lisa-Joe and the magic in the White Rabbit to keep you and everyone in there safe while Jake and I go find Sam." He gave her hand another reassuring squeeze and kiss, admiring the difference in temperature between their skins. He didn't want to let it go, but allowed her the space to choose if she wanted such a thing.
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Her eyes narrowed, lips pulling into a frown. "No, you're not," she mumbled before he continued, unwilling to push him beyond acknowledging that she knew he was deflecting. It didn't matter, but a whisp of anger flared in response to the redirection of her question. She swallowed hard against the refusal to answer him that clung like cement to the back of her throat. Tension multiplied at his attempts to soothe her, spreading through her limbs until numbness clamped her chest in a vice grip. Her hand sat heavily in his, lifeless and limp like a fish.
"What if its a trap?" Beneath the numb permafrost, a river of cold terror flooded her gut.
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He thought of this too, and the idea that he and Jake could be rushing into something impulsively in order to find Sam was a possibility he was more than aware of. The whole situation read as a trap, another thing Damien couldn't get off his mind. She had every right to be nervous, but he had forgotten - or neglected to think about - that she would be worried about him as he was worried about her. Perhaps they did need to stay together after all.
Her limp hand didn't go unnoticed and neither did her comment about him lying. A pulse of guilt swept through him before it was shoved aside for his focus instead. He needed his focus.
"Well," he said softly, thoughtfully. "We know how to handle him now, remember? We know what he is and what he does, how he moves, and what he looks like. The whole city is on alert for him now. We'll be able to see anything coming." His words were solid but not condescendingly arrogant, unable to summon the courage enough to push doubt away from either of their thoughts. "Jake has my back, and I have his. We are both men of war and we know how to handle ourselves in such situations. Besides there will be plenty of Jake's people around the both of us." He thought of Tyler in that moment, that thin, strangely androgynous man who called himself The Traveller who felt to Damien to be more than half his own age. Then Manuel, Lisa-Joe, Maria, and all those that he had met over the course of his career with Jake. It was impossible to know who would be where when Damien found Jake, but he had been assured that at least Lisa-Joe would be at the Rabbit. That had taken some of the concern from Damien's decision. "We will be smart and careful. I promise."
The night swept past him quickly now, leaving the more rural roads of the east behind the suburban streets he turned through, aiming for the highway. Street lights and porch lights provided most of the yellowish glow of the neighborhoods now as Damien drove deeper into the city. Soon it would be all concrete and headlights as he turned down an on-ramp towards Central.
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If it wasn't for the nightmares she anticipated, Rachel wanted nothing more than to curl up in some dark corner and fall asleep until all of this was over. Turning toward the passenger-side window, she leaned her head against the cool glass and closed her eyes. All of this was too much to process. Damien couldn't truly promise her anything. Nothing was guaranteed, that much she knew - and that had been made abundantly clear since the burning of Pierre.
After long moments of silence, she spoke in a small voice.
"I can't lose you."
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Her words weighed heavily on him and he understood. He loved her, despite everything he had told himself in the beginning. Damien had tried not to, knowing that her life would be temporary compared to his, that she would need to be set free once Laurent had been killed. He wanted that for her - the chance to have a normal human life that had been denied to her through no fault of her own. Despite the differences in their situations, her plight had always roused deep memories of a human life stripped from him in order to become the monster he was.
When Rachel had first come to live with Damien, it was understood to be an impermanent thing - he would stop Laurent and set Rachel up in an apartment back where she had originally come from so she could resume her life with some remnant of normalcy. But as the years past and Laurent proved slippery, they had become friendly and Damien found himself constantly drawn to her presence. When they first initiated their relationship, there was the guilt of keeping her away from normal life, the expression of being selfish. He knew he would have to let her go - whether through Laurent's demise or through the years of aging - but the longer they remained lovers the harder it became to admit that he might lose her one day. He didn't want her to live somewhere far away, to fall in love with some other human and grow a family with him. The idea had always brought him a misery that he never fully faced in the long hours while Rachel slept. He didn't want her to go but was afraid to say such things aloud, lest she make the terrible decision to remain with him, thus continuing a strange life.
So he kept his mouth shut, afraid that she would be swayed to remain with him, denying her own human opportunities of a life well lived. And he fell in love with her, a well of joy and happiness in his that she created in him that he wasn't used to and craved more of always. He loved her. He loved her so terribly that the thought of losing her was horrific, bringing back the feelings of what it was like to watch Lucretia and his fledges burn. He had once lost everything and had rebuilt himself into the stone that broke the wave to save everyone he ever cared about. Rachel was the sun that kept him warm and let him be (almost) human once again.
Damien exhaled into a frown, stroking the back of her hand absently as he entered the highway into the city. "You won't," he replied firmly. After a pause of debate, Damien asked "Can you open the dashboard compartment for me?"
As she did so, a small plastic package slid into view. Damien flicked his eyes over to it briefly. "I was going to wait until you got back from your date with Jake to give you this. It came in the mail while you were out."
For objects so small, the plastic packaging around the items was fairly heavy duty. "It's a personal locator beacon," he answered her before she asked. Slipping his hand out of hers while keeping his eyes (mostly) on the road, Damien took the package gently and tore into the heavy plastic as if it were paper. There were two black cubic objects with the company logo embossed in the hard plastic that fell out into the cupholder of the center console with a clatter. They were small things, both fitting comfortably in his hand as he took them out to show her. "We each have one. It comes with a custom, password protected app that works up to 500 miles away, with accuracy up to a few yards. They can be accessed at anytime on a cell phone or tablet to see where the other is. It needs to be charged once a month for 3 hours, and either of us will be able to find the other." He looked at her meaningfully before bringing his attention back to the road.
He hesitated again. "I'd like to ask you to keep this on you whenever you are not... laying in bed with me. Not in your bag, or your pocket, but under your clothes. It will help us stay safe. Just until we catch him."
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You can't promise that. She bit back the thought, fighting back a wave of nausea. In the split second between his request that she open the compartment and her actually carrying out the task, her mind raced through several options of what could be in there.
A handgun.
A magical object.
Some other kind of weapon.
An engagement ring.
She blushed against her will, wishing desperately to fold into that romantic day-dream and ignore the horror unfolding fast around them. The object in the glove box was, of course, none of these things. With heart pounding in her throat, she turned the little device - gps tracker? - over in her hand several times. This tiny object somehow rooted the whole mess firmly into reality. It didn't make her feel any safer, but at least he would be able to find her body if-
"Is it uh," she swallowed dryly, "all set up and charged?" She glanced at him and he nodded. A slow, shaky exhale pushed past her lips as she tucked the little device into her bra. "Okay," she whispered, glancing back at him for his approval. With hesitation her hand found his, giving in to the need for physical comfort now that the initial shock of everything - including the intensity of her own anger - had worn off.
"I'm scared," she admitted quietly.
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He smiled sadly as he watched the road, finding solace in her warm hand slipping into his and holding him. "I know, Rache." Damien squeezed her hand for good measure, needing her just a little tighter in her grasp for now. Quietly and without looking at her, he whispered "I am too."
Damien had given up on trying to calm or reassure Rachel that they would both be safe and much of the car ride into the city was done so with a heavy silence between them, Claude Debussy playing low on the radio that neither of them had cared enough about to switch off. The buildings rose taller, the traffic doubled, and the streets grow dirtier as they left the highway and merged onto Main street, several blocks from the White Rabbit. The amount of foot traffic also picked up and Damien found himself stopping at nearly every light, thick curtains of people obscuring the view in front of him. Each stop had him wondering if the passenger side door would be wrenched open and Rachel snatched from the car. He moved his fingers anxiously across her knuckles, wondering if it was worth it to try to discuss anything at all.
Relief flooded him when he pulled up to the White Rabbit and he could see Pierre's empty car parked at a meter across from the door. He idled the Lexus in front of the entrance to the club, but left the engine running for a moment more as he turned to Rachel, unsure of what was going to come out of his mouth. He just needed more time alone with her and he wanted to steal whatever brief moments he could with her.
"Rachel," he began and faltered, his words and thoughts tangling themselves into an incoherent mess in his head. "This is your life... and you deserve to live it how you feel is right." It felt awkward to remind her of such things as he was the one panicking and taking control of the situation. "It's not too late for me to stay with you, if that's what you want. Jake will get by without me, if you need me here with you." He looked her in the eyes in earnest, searching for an honest answer and an excuse not to leave her. He was scared but there was no need to remind her of that. He felt the words he had been wanting to tell her for months now bubble up to the surface of his tongue, tingle his face and attempt to pull blood into his cheeks for a blush. "This," he gestured vaguely at the White Rabbit building, "is all just a precaution and defense against a common enemy while I'm away. I can stay with you if you want." He laid his palm against the side of her face, his fingers gentle on the side of her neck. She was precious to him and he wanted desperately to see her happy again. "It is ultimately your decision how we approach this situation. And I don't want you to be scared."
-
Rachel leaned into his touch against the side of her face but his words caused her brow to furrow. "No," she exhaled, "you should go with Jake. If it is all connected then maybe this is the lead we've been waiting for." Besides, Jake had experience dealing with demons, didn't he? It should have been reassuring, she should have felt more confident about the whole thing. What she needed, what they needed was for all of this to be over and done with. Still, she couldn't shake that dread from her gut and it would be there no matter if Damien stayed or went.
She paused, glancing out the windshield before finding his gaze again.
"I -" there was hesitation, pregnant with things left unsaid, and she looked away - "I... care a lot about you." Her hand went over his, fingers gently nestling between his. "I... I want to be able to enjoy my life with you," her cheeks burned and she couldn't meet his eye, "without all of this bullshit." Anger edged back into her voice, warming the base of her throat.
-
His breath stuck in his throat as she blushed and told him what he needed to know. Still his own words felt inappropriate now in the heaviness and fear that invaded the car. He wasn't used to such a feeling, having suppressed his affection for her for so long that now the meaning of his words, while genuine, felt too extreme to hear aloud.
"I want that too," Damien whispered, swallowing the lump in his throat. If he were not so good at controlling his own impulses, he would have told her what he needed to say.
I love you, Rachel.
Instead he leaned over the center console and kissed her deeply like the very first night they made love. Warmth filled his senses, echoing from her skin against his lips and her cheek in his hand, to the need to have her close and safe and whole, carving a tunnel deep in his chest. One day soon he'd let her know.
He was the first to release their kiss, missing immensely that tender mouth and the feeling that everything would be okay after all. With grey eyes he watched her intently, admiring the softness of her face and the freckles dotting her hairline. He had committed to memory the details of her features, the striations of brown, chestnut, and mahogany of her eyes, the curve of her lips, the dip of her philtrum above her lips... Damien tried to imprint them now, wondering annoyingly if it would be the last time he looked upon her. His own lips twitched into a sober smirk as he replied. "Let's just get through tonight, yes?"
---
It was a slow night at the Rabbit. Slow nights were always filled with tedium and alcoholics, but at least he didn't have to spend the night kissing Freddy's ass upstairs again. He was sure that Freddy thought it just fitting that Quinn be asked to manage the downstairs bar by himself for a few hours while Freddy and Tommy danced together and shared some lines upstairs. Downstairs the clientele was louder, grumpier, and needed more of a stiff management that no one looked to Quinn for. Fortunately, they both seemed to have underestimate exactly how slow the night was going and Quinn was rather thankful. A busy bar meant more Anarchs acting like asses and making trouble for him.
Texts from Malakai were rapid fire back and forth while he pretended to wipe the bar. There were quips and cute plans being made and even a selfie react or two as the night dragged on. They were supposed to have gone to the carnival thing together that was happening on the east side of the city, but getting called into work had put a major damper on their plans for the evening. Now, he fully intended to spend his night texting his boyfriend while the drunkards got their fill.
There was a particularly good-looking piece of eye-candy sitting at the front of the bar that Quinn couldn't help but (discreetly) snap a picture of with the intention of sending to Rachel later when he was off shift. He was blonde - not usually his type - with a good solid set of traps and delts and a serious expression on his well-groomed face. Sparkling blue eyes and request for a Bloody Mary with extra salt - one of the Rabbit's code for disguised blood - made Quinn's overly eager imagination spin some slightly embarrassing but highly sexy scenarios that made him realize that he missed getting laid regularly. Like a good boyfriend he kept his eyes (mostly) to himself and went into the back to get a drink of ice-cold water - and chased it with a double shot of tequila.
He was tapping a keg beneath the bar when he glanced up at an entering couple he recognized immediately and excitement lit his expression. It only took him a another second or two to realize that whatever brought them to the White Rabbit tonight was not a good thing. Quinn stopped what he was doing immediately, his joy at seeing his best friend at his workplace seeping out of him as a protective concern gripped his chest. Why was Rachel here, her eyes red and her fear simmering just below the surface of her pretty face. He saw Damien leading her by the hand over to the handsome stranger that Quinn was going to send her a picture of earlier. Without waiting to be acknowledged by either of them, Quinn rounded the bar at a calm walk, his eyes hanging critically over the vampire at Rachel's side for any kind of fuckery that he may have been responsible for.
---
He had been sipping at his warmed blood and watching the door peripherally as Damien and Rachel entered. Damien found him before he was even able to get up from his chair, unsurprisingly. Pierre had only the time to turn and see the couple approach, putting his phone face down on the bar.
"Hey," he gave perfunctorily, as he quickly took stock of the state of the two of them.
-
The White Rabbit had only begun to feel like a safe place for her. While she understood cognitively that magic protected this place, it still felt too fantastical for her brain to accept as reality enough to seep into and soothe her emotional subconscious. Her eyes remained down at her feet, allowing Damien to guide her by the hand through the bar. Had she been paying any more attention she would have noticed how slow (and quiet) it was.
For now, Quinn went unnoticed - she simply wasn't looking in his direction. At Pierre's voice, she looked up and gently released Damien's hand to give his fledge a quick hug as greeting. It lacked the usual warmth. "Sorry," she murmured, "and thanks." Guilt from the first time Pierre had gotten mixed up in her drama flooded her anew. When she pulled away she didn't meet Pierre's eye, fingers reaching to intertwine with Damien's again to absorb whatever final comforts she could manage before he left.
A shaky exhale moved past her lips, still tingling with the sensation of their kiss in the car - a goodbye kiss, like he was leaving for a long long time.
He's coming back. Everything's going to be okay. Just focus on tonight.
Face stiff, blood pounding in her ears, and a prickling feeling nagging the back of her throat were the only sensations she could focus on. The voices around her warbled as though they were underwater - the sensation of pressure in her chest adding to the image. Somewhere in the back of her mind, it registered that she felt vaguely faint.
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Despite his best efforts to contain his stress and frustration, anyone who spent enough time close to Damien knew fairly immediately when he was frazzled. While his sire never wore his emotions on his sleeve, centuries of standing by his side had cued Pierre into the subtle signs of his anxiety: the silvery gaze that continually scanned the room, the tightness of his jaw as he spoke lowly in a language that no one but Pierre could understand, the closeness with which he held Rachel after Pierre's greeting of her. Pierre watched and listened as his sire explained what had happened and what would happen on his end, nodding and responding shortly when was necessary.
When he had first received the call that Laurent was back, a quick panic settled coldly over his gut and he couldn't move. Instinctively, his touched his newly-healed stomach and sat to listen to the things he needed to do. Thankfully, Nadia hadn't been around to watch him - a lump formed in the back of his throat and the hairs on his arms prickled at the thought that he might actually see Laurent again. A stupid reaction - of course they would see the demon again one day. The clenching in his gut didn't stop as he stood and dressed himself in jeans and black sweater, lingering with him over the car ride and even while he ordered a drink at the White Rabbit, dutifully trying to get a hold of himself before Damien and Rachel arrived. He couldn't remember feeling such a thing in his life, but then again, he had never come so close to a permanent death as he had that night with Laurent.
The idea that he would see him tonight shook him and kept him on the edge of his seat while he watched Rachel and Damien. How long had it been since the demon had surfaced? And now he was making bold attempts to show himself in public, regardless of Rachel's escort with a District Leader? And potentially kidnapping Jake's fledge? He knew Laurent was bold, but this was straight suicidal. Was he getting desperate now that Damien had showed himself as Jake's campaign manager? Or was this all some elaborate trap to find and enslave Rachel again.
He looked at her briefly as Damien explained and wondered why she was worth so much to the demon, knowing only vague details of her history with him, never wanting to inquire more.
---
When he wasn't acknowledged, he knew something was deeply wrong. His thoughts raced over all the things that were part of her new life in the city, something he hadn't been fully included into yet. He recalled the conversation about the abuse and the demon responsible for it, but also noticed the tightness of Damien's hold on her as he spoke to the eye-candy at the bar. Something about the situation made him extremely uncomfortable.
Without thinking about the effect that it would have upon her, Quinn reached out and touched his best friend, saying her name at the same time. His contact with her elicited a jump that instantly made him feel guilty. As punishment, Damien's steely gaze twisted and fell upon him and Quinn knew that he had fucked up royally, though he was still unsure how. He tried not to shrivel beneath that intense look, knowing that it was very possible that Damien was the cause of the discomfort in the room.
"Hey," he said softly, moving his hand up to her shoulder and securing it there so she knew he was there. "What's going on? What are you doing here?"
"Who is this?" The customer at the bar demanded of Damien with a nod in Quinn's direction. Had he been any uglier, Quinn would have been offended enough to lash out at him. Instead those blue eyes kept him right where he was, the words sticking in his throat.
"This is Quinn Patenaude, Rachel's best friend from... before." Damien's eyes never left Quinn as he answered the other vampire's question. Funny, he didn't remember offering Damien his last name when that had formally met.
The other vampire nodded and extended a hand in his direction. "Nice to meet you, Quinn." There was a touch of genuity in his tone, a calming lean on an accent that spun the sexy thoughts in Quinn's head without his consent. "I'm Pierre, Damien's first fledge."
He blinked at the pair of vampires and shook the proffered hand in greeting rather quickly, dazedly. What the hell was happening here? He was genuinely afraid of the answer.
-
Once she'd gotten over the initial startle of being touched and recognized that it was her best friend, relief washed over her. Gently she detangled her fingers from Damien's grasp while introductions were exchanged, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze before moving over to Quinn. With a bit more urgency than she would have liked, she pulled him into a firm embrace.
"Hey," she managed before swallowing hard, "shit hit the fan." Pulling away, she gave Quinn a tired smile, hand dropping to find his and lacing their fingers together. The gravity of the situation pressed into her flesh. Before speaking again she glanced back to Damien, still engaged in rapid conversation with Pierre. Her eyes briefly met Quinn's before dropping to the floor. "The...Demon is back--" she wanted to explain more, but her throat constricted around the words and she fell silent, pulling a deep breath into her lungs.
-
The comfort of holding her hand ebbed from him at her words. "Oh Rache." He pulled her back into an embrace, a tighter, more protective one this time and held onto her for a moment. She was stiff in his arms, cold like how she got when things were really bad. He still remembered the times when breakups and the despair of poverty were the things they had to face together. The distance between them was painful now, but Quinn swallowed it and held his friend.
At least it wasn't Damien.
When he released her, her hand flew back into Damien's grip, who held her like he would never let her go. It was endearing to see, but a pang of jealousy pulsed through him - jealousy that he had lost his best friend when Rachel was kidnapped and that this vampire had gained a lover. Petty, he knew, and so he pushed it away, unable to process such a thing while there was a crisis at hand.
"So what's the plan?" His question was directed at Rachel, but it was Damien who ended up answering.
"I have to help Jake find Samantha and get her back," he answered, dropping a bomb as if it were simple fact. Quinn reeled. "I have to catch up with him and I can't have Rachel with--"
"Wait, what happened to Sam?" His tone took a frantic edge as he looked between the three of them. The two vampires exchanged a look.
"We think someone kidnapped her as a distraction to get Rachel," Pierre responded calmly after a look at Damien, who nodded in allowance at the younger vampire. Quinn could feel the blood leak from his face.
"Wait--"
"We don't have time for questions, Quinn," Damien responded again with something that sounded like it might have been patience if he didn't examine it. "Rachel and Pierre may be able to fill you in. I need to find Jake."
Quinn swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded his understanding, though his head buzzed with anxiety over unanswered questions.
---
"Excuse us," he said stiffly two Quinn and Pierre before taking Rachel away from the group for a private moment of goodbyes. He put a couple feet of distance between himself and the other two men and wrapped Rachel up into an embrace that he didn't want to release. After a few moments of private enjoyment of her warmth and the comfort of having her close and safe, Damien pulled away to kiss her forehead. His hands slipped down to rest on the small of her back, the accent of her hips being a most comfortable resting place for him. She accepted them with a hesitant relaxation and looked at him with those large brown eyes that pulled at him.
Once again, he stopped himself from telling her the words that would only complicate the night.
"You even have Quinn with you here, see? Everything will be okay." He began to believe his own words now that he was in the Rabbit, but the knowledge that he would have to leave her and go off into the city without the promise of her safety hurt more than he could comprehend.
He checked his watch, one that she had bought for him for his most recent birthday. "See? It'll only be for a few hours. I will be back an hour before sunrise to get you, and then we will go home and mostly forget that this whole messy thing happened." He rubbed at her back with his fingers, something small in the hopes of not drawing anyone's attention to the small affection. "Okay?" He would wait until he knew she was content with both her best friend and Pierre before he released her for the last time and placed a lasting kiss to her hairline.
-
The lump in her throat had only grown steadily in the minutes leading up to when Damien would leave, and she did her best to not let it show in her face. Damien's words did little to comfort her, and she strained to make them sound closer than they felt to her in this moment. Yes she had Quinn, and that was the best thing she could have wanted from this situation. But all the comfort of her best friend wouldn't drive the darkness from her thoughts.
Her hands gripped Damien's back as if she feared he would drift away, and when he pulled away to kiss her head she pulled him back as close as she could manage.
"Please be safe," she whispered, fighting the tension in her chest to get the words through. "I--" she hesitated again, choosing to squeeze him tighter and settle on a shaky-- "I'll miss you."
The shadows in her mind stoked the flames of what-ifs; what if he didn't come back, what if this was the last time she would see him again, what if Jake was dead when he got there. They collected into one mass of terror clawing at the base of her throat, pressing tears out the corners of her eyes and a wave of nausea through her abdomen.
-
In the moment she hesitated a great swell of warmth flooded him as she stumbled through her words, only to be left aching at the end of them. He had thought - no, hoped - that she would tell him in that moment what three words plagued him too. I love you, Damien. He hadn't realized how sincerely he wanted to hear it before he imagined the words coming from her mouth. But she chose her words differently - I'll miss you - and he wondered how much she meant one and not the other.
Foolish, really. There was no room for the philosophy of love now, not when they had so much on their plates. Proclamations of love would do nothing but cloud the mind and make tonight harder. Besides, they weren't supposed to be in love.
"I will be," he promised with as much security as he could muster, resting his forehead against hers. He breathed in her scent and blocked out everything but the sped up beating of her heart as he held her. Damien worried less about himself than for Pierre and Rachel. To fight off his fear, he thought of Lisa-Joe, and the other Anarchs who called this place headquarters, the mysterious witch whose magic kept it safe, and even the stoic Sheriff Luke, whom was built more solidly than Pierre. He needed to be out there helping Jake. "You stay safe. Stay away from all the doors until I get back. Keep your phone and your tracker on. You can watch where I am on that app, okay?" He wrapped her in his arms again and gave her his last kiss of the night. "I will be back. With Jake and Sam."
When she had given him her goodbye, he kissed her hand and turned towards the door. With difficulty, he didn't turn back and made his way to the Lexus outside and headed east.
-
With blurred vision she watched him leave, the pull in her chest following him straight out the door and straining tremendously against the distance between them. Blinking, she turned back to the others and steeled herself against the urge to cry.
He's going to be okay. He said to watch the app. It's going to be fine, everything's going to be fine.
After a few shallow breaths, she shuffled back to the bar despite the sensation like lead that glued her feet to the floor. "Can--" she cleared her throat, making her best efforts to not sound so squeaky or too quiet-- "can I get a glass of water?" Her gaze fell on Quinn, right hand fumbling for her phone so she could pull up the tracking app that Damien showed her before they went into the Rabbit. Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry. She glanced down and made four unsuccessful attempts to unlock her phone with her fingerprint before slamming it down on the bar, desperate whine caught in her throat.
-
"Yeah, of course." Quinn moved briskly back behind the bar, dug up a glass from beneath the counter and made her an ice-water from the tap. Instinctively, he placed a napkin down under the glass like he would any other drink. He watched silently as she slammed her phone down on the bar, feeling like he were interrupting something. He wanted to know what happened, what exactly had been done to cause all the turmoil and chaos but didn't know where to begin, or even if it was appropriate to ask at that very moment. He gathered not, so his intense curiosity and prickling fear remained blended together in his chest as he gave her a moment with her thoughts.
---
Pierre watched Damien leave with a growing sense of trepidation, but said and did nothing. Instead he turned back to his drink and eyed Rachel as she became a mess on the chair. He reached out and rubbed her shoulder in a brotherly kind of way, something that felt as comforting to him as he meant for her. Damien was his sire, after all, and he was the only one alive who had supported Pierre through thick and thin. The idea of him running into a trap and meeting a permanent end sat uncomfortably within him. He, however, wasn't able to show such things around Rachel, the only person who knew Damien better than he did. No, for Rachel he had to be stoic, calm, and controlled like always. It would be Pierre's job to keep her safe, should something happen to Damien.
But he didn't want to think about that right now.
"Come on, Rache," he encouraged softly. "We can't dwell on this. The night will never end." He smiled but it felt fake and he doubted Rachel would fall for it now.
"Do you want something harder than that?" Quinn suggested cautiously from behind the bar, a ribbon of subtle humor in his tone. Pierre frowned, unsure that drinking would be a wise decision, considering the circumstances. He looked at Rachel with a furrowed brow.
"I don't know if that's a good idea..." He wasn't fully convinced it wasn't, either.
"Just something to take the edge off," the human bartender replied, his attention pointed at Rachel. Pierre watched as his face lit up and he ducked in closer to Rachel to speak, though Pierre could clearly hear him in a room so quiet. Fortunately there were only humans down here, two old ones at the opposite end of the bar who sipped beer from frosted mugs and watched whatever sport was on the television. "I have a bit of Northern Lights packed, too, if you're interested."
Pierre's frown deepened as he eyed Quinn. Drinking was one thing, but smoking? Damien had specifically stated not to leave the Rabbit under any circumstances. Pierre had seen an inebriated Rachel and wasn't keen on babysitting like that again tonight, especially not under such circumstances. He said nothing more, pretending not to have heard Quinn until Rachel made it clear in what direction she was willing to go.
-
Pierre's touch was comforting, and she responded with a half-hearted smile equally as ingenuine. His words felt obligatory. How could she not dwell? How could he not dwell?
To Quinn's first question, Rachel shook her head and sipped slowly at the water. All current nausea aside, alcohol wasn't something she typically reached for to cope. Pierre's comment made her flush hotly behind the glass, anger flaring into her expression for the briefest of moments. The memory of her getting trashed when Jake and Lisa-Joe were over was still fresh in her mind, and in his no doubt. Did he think that she'd have a repeat of that now?
Rachel said nothing, glancing up as Quinn came closer to talk (did he forget that vampires had ridiculously heightened hearing?). "No," she answered softly, "I'm not in the right headspace for that." She didn't want to risk heightening her sense of paranoia. Grimacing, she looked down at her phone again. "Thanks though," she added quickly, looking back up at her friend briefly to offer a tight apologetic smile. This time when she attempted to unlock her phone, it worked despite the slight tremor in her hands. Shoulders dropping in silent relief, she pulled up the app to verify it was working (which it was). She ran a hand through her hair and sighed through her nose.
"I fucking hate this right now," she clutched the phone in her hand, glanced down again at the app, set it down on the bar and looked to Pierre. Dark thoughts pressed in, reminding her that Pierre had almost died because of her, that Damien was probably walking into the same exact situation because of her. The need to apologize to him again overwhelmed her, but she squeezed her lips into a tight squiggle instead.
-
A guttural scream came from Lisa-Joe's office, followed by a loud bang that could only be wall breaking. Then there was silence. The voice had clearly been her own, but now it was so quiet it was like nothing happened at all.
-
He was on his feet between Rachel and the noise issuing from the office before the humans in the bar even registered it happening. Pierre instinctually put his back against Rachel, blocking her from any would-be threats while the skin on the back of his neck prickled and his eyes fixated in the direction of the office.
"What the hell was that?" Quinn asked worriedly and made to go around the bar to investigate. Behind him, Pierre could hear both of the humans' hearts pounding in their chests. Even the old humans at the other end of the bar, who had been wrapped up in the watching of a basketball game and sipping their beers, looked up and towards the office with an expression and mumble of concern.
Pierre threw out an open palm at the bartender, glancing sideways at him but keeping Rachel within his peripheral view, his back against her shoulder as she cowered in the chair. "Don't go anywhere," Pierre commanded and thankfully the human stopped mid stride. Quinn's expression read of concern and debate, and even without being able to read the human's mind his body language told Pierre that he was considering disobeying. "Get someone else to check it out." His tone left no room for debate and he watched as the human returned to his place behind the bar.
---
He could feel his blood in his ears, hot in his skin despite the chills that ran down his spine. Now something was happening with Lisa-Joe? Quinn looked from Pierre to a terrified Rachel and back. Was Pierre serious? He couldn't just leave her if she was in trouble... But what good was he if this was that demon? The threat towards Rachel was forced into a sharp relief of realness now that there was a vampire guarding Rachel, telling him what to do as he stood helpless behind the bar. If he left to go check on LJ, would he fall into some master villainous plan and end up causing Rachel more pain? Or end up dead? He swallowed the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat, his thoughts flickering briefly over the people he would be leaving behind if he made such a decision. Or would he have to leave Lisa-Joe to potentially handle herself?
But she was a vampire. He had watched her put grown men and many a young vampire in their place without breaking the proverbial sweat. What the hell could he do to help her if she was in trouble? It was this Pierre who had a better chance at actually doing something to help her if she needed it. But Pierre's leaving would make him and Rachel vulnerable to mayhem if it was all just a distraction to get Rachel.
What should he do? Manuel and Tyler had gone to the Carnival and to hell if he knew where Amy or Fat Tony were...
Thinking fast he picked up the phone behind the bar and dialed her office number, looking towards the doorway to see if she would emerge. Quinn could hear the phone ring in the other room and suddenly his mouth was too dry. What if it didn't stop ringing? No, that was dumb. This was Lisa-Joe they were talking about. No one was able to fuck with Lisa-Joe Hampton.
-
What the fuck was that
She barely had enough time to react before Pierre moved with a speed she still wasn't used to seeing him move with. Her muscles froze and she trained her hearing on the direction where that sound came from. A tightening sensation in her temples narrowed her visual focus until it seemed like she were looking through the bottom of a glass. Being pinned between the bar and Pierre left her no room to twist around and look - something that increased the feeling of urgency surging through her veins. She leaned gently against Pierre's back - for support or comfort she didn't know - battling with everything internal screaming that she was trapped.
Did He lure Jake and Damien away while He waited here? Did He know that she would be brought to the Rabbit - had He been hiding in the office the entire time? Was He trying to lure Pierre away from her now so He could --
Anxiously she looked to Quinn while he picked up the phone, sharing a look of mute panic while they both heard it ring through the quiet bar.
-
The phone was picked up clumsily, providing Quinn with a fair amount of static as the receiver found it's way to Lisa-Joe's ear. "What," she said dryly, a hot temper mixed with something more anxious than mean. Lisa-Joe was sitting in her desk chair, eyes moving from the phone, to her broken shoe, and finally to the wall she'd just kicked a hole through. The vampire sighed into the phone, but didn't regret the venting at all. That little burst of anger would've come out somehow, and better the wall than a patron.
She was furious she had to stay behind, and that everyone else was looking for Sam. She hated that Jake insisted on running the district like a business and that meant not just closing when convenient. To make matters worse, Rachel was now being hunted too. She tried not to resent what she knew was guard duty, but she was bitter that she'd been left behind. In those early days of Sam's addition to the family, Jake and her had been at constant odds. It had been Lisa-Joe who was the girl's first mentor. Sam was family for a vampire who didn't wish to sire again, and now she was gone. She suspected Ben. It was at his carnival. Reports indicated it might be Zoheret, and she cracked her knuckles as she thought of getting to tussle with the winged bitch.
"What," she said again, not hearing a reply the first time. She had almost no patience left at this point.
-
At the sound of her voice, despite her initial annoyance, Quinn sighed with relief. It was Lisa-Joe, alright. He had learned to avoid her on the nights where she had her rampages, knowing she would chew out anyone in her path - customers and co-workers alike. Now, he was just happy to hear the lack of strain in her voice that indicated actual distress. He sagged noticeably until she demanded his words again.
"Oh," Quinn said, jumping a little and losing any words he had intended to say. "Uh... Are you... okay?" He threw a look at Rachel and Pierre, who both looked at him confused. "Because you just scared the ever-living shit out of me, Rachel, a few customers and," he waved his hand, figuring that she would know who the vampire guarding Rachel was, "...Pierre, I guess."
-
Lisa-Joe felt slightly embarrassed, which was a new feeling, and sighed as she realized what a fool she just made of herself. Attempting to save face, she muttered, "I saw a bug," and presently hung up the phone. She pulled out a compact and looked herself over. Ugly. Her mascara had ran down her face with her tears, and her hair was askew. There would be no time to wash her face properly, but she had makeup wipes at the ready. Using her Celerity, she wiped her face clean in moments, and applied a new set of eyes, cheeks and lips. When she was satisfied she no longer looked like a feral raccoon, she stood from her desk and exited the office to greet her guests.
She crossed to the bar, and embraced Rachel first, a deep and loving hug. "How ya doing Shugah," she asked, before greeting Quinn and Pierre in similar manners, although Quinn didn't get the hugs that Rachel and Pierre shared.
"I suppose ya'll have heard about Sam," she asked, not sure how much Damien had been able to tell them in the chaos that was the moments directly after. She was happier to see Pierre than she should've been, and for some reason stood as close to him as possible without sitting in his lap.
-
The relief she felt when it was confirmed that Lisa-Joe was okay only brushed the surface of Rachel's tension. It was better when Pierre moved away so she wasn't trapped at the bar stool, and better still when Lisa-Joe appeared in the bar and greeted them. Hugs were nice - her body melted in the brief moment of contact to absorb what comfort she could. The under-water feeling clouding her perception still lingered, and she gripped the edge of the bar for support.
"Uh-- Okay," she lied, averting her eyes and taking a sip from the glass of water. To the next question, Rache nodded solemnly and drew her arms tightly around herself. Everything still felt too surreal to adequately process. One arm slipped from its position to reach for her phone again, refreshing the tracking app.
-
He had forgotten how much smaller she was in real life, that big attitude playing a role to boost her height in his head when he remembered her. He had to almost bend for their hug, a touch of humor in his eyes as he pulled away from her, murmuring a greeting. Everything still felt tense in his body, despite his relaxed stance and release of Rachel. For Pierre, Lisa-Joe's presence allowed him the headspace to breathe for a moment - she was strong, fiery, and new how to handle herself should the need arise. She also knew how to protect the people she loved - Pierre had seen that plain enough at Charon's big gala when she stepped in front of Jake to protect him (from what, he couldn't remember exactly, having not seen what happened).
And she was skilled in all those clan disciplines that the Clanned vampires had, most of which he would always lack. Pierre considered it a fortunate thing to have her so close by on a night he wasn't at his best.
"Any new developments from Jake or Tyler?" Pierre asked, hopeful that this entire ordeal would be wrapped up quickly. His gaze flicked over to Rachel as she checked the tracking app for Damien's blip on the screen again, but he said nothing, content that the dot was at the very least moving.
-
Lisa-Joe smiled softly at Pierre as he asked his questions, but couldn't stop staring at Rachel. The way she was wrapped up in herself made Lisa-Joe sick. Men had been doing this to women for all time, and she was tired of it. She thought back to her own mortality, and why she'd worked so hard to become someone else. All those nights on her knees serving her master had made her swear to never get on her knees for any man ever again. Men had taken so much from her, and she'd resolved to spend eternity taking it back.
"Tyler is talking to the ward director," she explained. "I think we have confirmation of the perp. We should know soon. Jake is searching the grounds outside the carnival. He said... He said his blood bond to Sam has been weakened. I don't know much about magic, but that shouldn't be possible."
She turned now to Rachel and tried to open her arms back to the world. "This is how Laurent wants you to feel," she said softly. "So fuck him. Don't let him turn you into this. Look at me."
Now she gently guided Rachel's eyes to her own. "If a man ever tries to do to you what he did to you again, you think of me and you go silent and spit in his eye. He only wins if you're sacred. He only wins if you cry."
She was hoping on some level Sam could hear this too, although she knew it wasn't possible. She thought Quinn or Pierre might disapprove of her words, and that she shouldn't be scaring Rachel anymore than she already was, but the world didn't always allow for such protections. If this Laurent did nab her again one day, refusing to break would keep her alive longer than submitting.
-
Her head was buried in her phone while Pierre and Lisa-Joe spoke, refreshing the app over and over and watching the little dot move slowly across the map. It wasn't enough to give her comfort. It wasn't enough to still the questions spinning circles in her brain, the uncertainties that threatened to overshadow tendrils of hope.
Hope that this had nothing to do with Him. That whoever took Sam was just some angry demon unrelated to the one she knew. Was that selfish? Maybe.
Lisa-Joe's touch made her jump, eyes hardening reflexively. Her limbs were stiff to the prodding, but she reluctantly allowed herself to move, arms dropping to her sides. If it were anyone else, if it were any other time, she would've taken more offense to being moved like some kind of doll, gentle as it was. It took an effort to swallow, but there were more pressing things to focus on now.
The conviction in Lisa-Joe's voice had her almost entranced by the woman. Some words resonated deeply within the wellspring of rage that had begun to rise up her throat earlier that evening. She didn't need to think of Lisa-Joe for that, she had her own fire enough to spit. She didn't want to run anymore or dissolve into a mess whenever danger reared its head. It wasn't fair - life was too fucking short and she was only just getting around to enjoying it again.
But He would win no matter what. Fighting back only made Him hungrier. Harder to--
Her stomach churned at the thought, pushing back memories she didn't want to relive. Not here. Not now. Rachel took a slow breath and refreshed the app again before placing her phone face-down on the bar. She smiled tightly at Lisa-Joe, both as thanks and to demonstrate that she'd Heard but was still tired. Her hand slid into the vampire's, their hands almost the same temperature because she was so damn cold, and she gave it a gentle squeeze before releasing.
She turned to Quinn. "You have anything I could eat? Like a protein bar or something?" As soon as the words were out of her mouth she hated how week they sounded.
-
He didn't need to be a vampire to feel the storm gathering within and between the two women, his eyes darting between the two of them as he returned to wiping the bar absently for something to do with his anxious hands. He didn't like how Rachel jumped, or looked stiff when LJ touched her. Had she been anyone else and had they been talking about anything else, Quinn would have jumped into his usual protective nature regarding Rachel. He glanced at Pierre, who seemed uncomfortable as well, the casual bomb of sexual assaults dropped on the floor for both of them to see and accept. It was sobering for Quinn, but not entirely unexpected given the nature of men, and he looked down at an old stain on the bar. A slow-drip of associative guilt kept his eyes on the bar as he tried not to feel awkward about the topic discussed.
When Rachel asked him for a protein bar, he could have kissed her. "Yeah, babe." He scurried away automatically, taking it as permission to leave briefly. Quinn ducked into the small backroom and dug around in the bag that he had slung onto the ground near one of the stacks of beer cases. A pack of cigarettes, a small pipe loaded with weed, a bunch of lose singles, a thin sweatshirt -- no protein bar. Fuck.
"No dice, Rache." Quinn answered as he lingered in the doorway to the backroom. "Have you eaten at all tonight?" When she shook her head, he suspected as much. "So... Chinese food? The usual?" He smirked, remembering what she would order everytime they did take out back home. Veggie pad thai with extra sauce, nim chow, and crab rangoon. Quinn knew just the place to order as well.
-----
When Rachel had turned her attention to Quinn, Pierre furrowed his brow at Lisa-Joe. "What do you mean 'his blood bond weakened'? How is that even possible?"
From what he understood about normal blood bonds, they were either there or they were not. For Pierre, the bonds with his sire and his fledges were cloudy and more distant than what everyone else described. In his long years, he knew of no reason why a bond would weaken. According to Damien, even when the fledge (or sire) was dying, there was an increase in intensity, like a warning or an alarm to the kin. Not a fade. Perhaps it was different with the clanned vampires.
-
Lisa-Joe had hoped her words would've inspired more resolve, but turned to Pierre to answer his question. The truth was she had no idea about blood bonds. She had one fledge who was dead, and although she felt a vague connection her sire - enough to know she was still alive - it provided her no knowledge on how one is weakened.
"Shit if I know," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "I don't like it though."
She watched Quinn and Rachel talk, but felt it would be intruding to get in the way of Chinese food. She had heard it was quite good. Instead, she looked to Pierre, and lightly punched his shoulder.
"It's good to see you cowboy," she admitted. "Not that I need men folk, but... I do need a friend."
She almost blushed, and turned her head back to Rachel to see how she was fairing.
-
There was a flash of a smile -- appreciation at having her favorites remembered -- that vanished just as soon as it appeared.
"I dunno," she sighed, taking quick stock of how her body felt. "I'm pretty...nauseous I think. So something lighter would probably be better..." she trailed off, eyes going back to the phone for the hundredth time. "I'll just order something," she murmured half to herself, navigating to one of the food-delivery apps on her phone.
It was good to be focussed on something else, but she kept the tracker app open on her phone anyway while she browzed through restaurant options.
-
Quinn frowned, his eyes chasing the her attention to the phone. "Okay," he responded resigned to the knowledge that there was probably nothing that he could do to cheer her up. It wasn't some break up where a pint of ice cream would get them through it all, onto the next guy. Watching her like this brought up the reminder that he knew close to nothing about the past five years of her life. It hurt him deeply to not know this person in front of him. It was then that he became aware of the kind of misery that he had never endured before and that it had sewn itself in to the very fabric of the person she had become. Not the drunken rampages of Michael, not the beatings from his step-father, not even the death of his father had given him this kind of irreparable damage.
This was a matter of her life or death.
He stayed quiet for a moment, watching Rachel with the kind of hesitance of someone unsure of how to step next. There was nothing he could say to quell her fears of losing Damien or returning to a horrible life. There was nothing he could do to lift her mood or make her forget. There was nothing, nothing at all. He began to wonder how dangerous being in the Rabbit actually was for him and his thoughts flitted upon Malakai.
Quinn found his hand on the bottle of whiskey as he was pouring the shot, pulled from his reverie by the sound of what he was doing. He poured two shots sloppy, not bothering to weigh his seconds against his pour. Proper measurements wouldn't matter tonight, he figured. With a head in the clouds and the feeling of watching himself from some outside perspective, Quinn circled the bar with both shots in hand and sat down in the stool next to Rachel, scooting it closer so that he was touching her side when he sat. He took the first shot without hesitation, grimacing against the burn and choke of a rough whiskey he hardly drank. But it was warmth that followed, chasing amber liquor down his throat and echoing from his chest until his tension eased.
"I'm so sorry, Rache." About everything: all of the bad things, the bad people, the bad memories, the fear, the humiliation, the anger... But is lips couldn't find the strength to name such atrocities. Naming them, for Quinn, would mean that they were true. And he didn't want them to be true of his Rachel, the one who smiled big and helped him steal laundry soap from the grocery store when they were poor. The one who tiptoed quietly to her room when she knew he had a guy over. The one who tucked him in at night and checked on him every few hours after he had tried to call his own life quits. She had always been too good for the world and he hated that someone had the ability to reduce her to nothing.
He didn't bother to look at her, but threw an appreciative arm around her shoulders and pulled her gently closer. Quinn rested his cheek against the top of her forehead, hoping that she would remain there and let him do what he could to ground her, instead of pushing him away.
-----
Pierre pursed his lips thoughtfully as they hit a dead end on the sire bond trail. Maybe it didn't mean anything at all, and that Sam was just getting further away from the connection. Maybe it worked like that sometimes.
When her playful punch came, he tried not to start, his nerves getting the best of him. Shen looked away from his just as he had found her gaze on him again and he wondered a ridiculous thought. Pierre smirked at her tiredly, but thankful to have her to jest with, even if it was about nothing in particular.
"I'm glad you're here with me," he said truthfully, though presently unaware of any impact his words may have caused anyone. "I really wasn't looking forward to spending the rest of the night alone." He leaned towards her, his nose coming close enough to her hair to allow him the pleasure of her scent. It had been a few months since he had been so close to another woman who wasn't Nadia and Pierre couldn't say that he minded the proximity of Lisa-Joe all that much. He spoke into her ear just below human hearing to her in an attempt at a jest, though the humor neither filled nor comforted him. "Rachel doesn't tend to be good company when she's worried for hers or Damien's life."
-
Lisa-Joe smirked at Pierre's dark humor concerning Rachel. She knew she shouldn't laugh, but being a veteran of more than one war, she understood better than most that it was better to laugh sometimes, then to cry. She saw a pool table open, and considered dragging Pierre over. They had a score to settle, and she needed to think about anything other than Jake, Sam or the rest of it. Rachel looked soothed by Quinn, and the mortal rose in her estimation because of it. She could take them all below to the rabbit warrens, but she reconsidered, not wanting Rachel to feel trapped.
"Rachel, anything you want to do? I know it's all distractions and crap, but it's better than hitting refresh on your app. Trust me."
They could do karaoke, paint each other's nails (including Pierre) or any old thing. She didn't have a good band tonight, but maybe she could call Jerry and see what he was doing. Tyler was out of the question for obvious reasons.
-
"Don't apologize," she murmured, relaxing in Quinn's affectionate hold. He was too good of a friend, really. Being apart for as long as they had didn't change that. Her finger dashed along her phone screen for a moment longer, deciding to go with her usual from the place that Quinn was talking about from before -- she'd at least pick slowly at it. She made no effort to hide her phone from Quinn's view, refreshing the app twice again before putting it face down on the table.
Turning at the sound of her name, she gave Lisa-Joe a weak smile. "Yeah, I know," there was a mirthless chuckle before she continued. "I'd like a distraction--something more engaging than moping." There was a darkness in her eyes, and she averted them for a moment to her phone on the bar. Her fingers itched to check the app again but she resisted.
"You play cards?" The thought seemed to lift her spirits for a second, and she cast a knowing glance (and smirk) at Pierre. "Unless you can think of something better?" This question was directed at Quinn, who she'd decided she would steal from work because it was an emergency after all. And it wasn't like there was really anyone at the bar tonight.
-
Quinn snickered, the innate need to lighten the mood filtering into his response with grandeur before he could think better of it. "This is the White Rabbit, Rache," he reminded her with a brief wave of his hand. "We'd better have something better than just playing cards in here!" Thinking about Tommy, who was set up as one of the dancers tonight, Quinn looked over at the blonde vampire with a twinkle of mischief in his eye. "I'm assuming going up to the strip tease upstairs is off limits?"
"I'd say so," Pierre responded with a light flavoring of humor, his gorgeous lips turning upwards into an attractive, albeit weary, smirk that threatened to put a flush of heat into Quinn's cheeks.
"Are you sure?" Quinn poked further playfully, attempting to suss out what team the blonde played for. While it was obvious that LJ had some kind of something for him, he wasn't convinced that Pierre wasn't a switch hitter, playing for both teams. "You can come up too, you know. I know some of the guys would love to show off for a new face."
He let out a laugh that proved what Quinn already suspected: Pierre must have been the only straight vampire in the damn city. Figures. "Maybe another time. For tonight I need Rachel within sight."
Quinn sighed and rested his head back on Rachel's shoulder. "I guess cards it is, then," he grumbled. "Unless you two are going to entertain us..." He turned hopefully to Lisa-Joe with raised, expectant eyebrows.
-
"I'm too good at cards for ya'll," she said confidently. "Got tons of practice as a proper lady."
She remembered so many shitty garden parties where the women had been forced to play Bridge, Rummy, and other tireless games. She'd always preferred smoke filled rooms, where she could strip men of their valuables through charm and good playing. She thought she should tell Pierre they had plenty of women dancers too, but that was counterproductive to her own needs. She was fine with being the most attractive women near Pierre. Rachel didn't count. She was spoken for anyways.
She enjoyed the confusion brought on by Quinn, and followed it up with, "How you're as old as you are without getting on your knees for at least one cock I don't know," she said, not shying away from the graphic nature. "Don't get me wrong, it gets tedious after a while, and they never appreciate it as much as they should." She smiled coyly at him, and turned to see Quinn's expectant face. She considered what might be fun.
"Pierre and I can always beat the crap out of one another. He's older, but I'm meaner so I think it's a fair fight."
And she really did.
-
Rachel paled at the thought of watching a fight, especially while she was terrified that was what Damien was walking into, and took a hasty sip of water. She met Quinn's eye long enough for him to catch on before looking down at her phone again.
"Food's gonna be here in like 45 minutes," she spoke lowly and only to Quinn, "You mind grabbing it for me when they get here?"