Hot Tip

[Existentially Odd]

The instant Jeanne opened her door, the scent of blood enveloped her, hijacking her olfactory senses. Her mouth watered as she exited the vehicle, arriving at Murphy's side almost before the brisk clip of her stilettos striking the concrete could sound and announce her arrival.

Murphy was a morbid sight; face and clothes covered in blood, hands drenched in it as he attempted to stopper the flow with his fingers. She crouched beside him, her hand upon the newling's shoulder. She was trying not to get too close. Of course she was wearing white, her wide-legged, flowing silk pants topped with a delicate spaghetti-strapped camisole made from the same shiny ivory fabric. There was a matching jacket that she hadn't taken the time to grab back in her office but it wasn't important now.

She scanned the mental connection between fledgeling and mortal, suffused with pride when she saw that Murphy was, indeed, exerting influence over the human, subduing him. Of course, he was also stupidly holding his bleeding throat in his hands, rather than his mouth, but she couldn't ask for everything in one go. All things considered, this odd experiment had been a success.

Resisting the urge to take over, she spoke instead - this time, live, as her phone had been abandoned in the car. "Murphy, I am here," she soothed, squeezing his shoulder so that he didn't feel alone. If he hadn't been maintaining such an excellent presence with the mortal, she might've considered speaking into his mind but she didn't dare interrupt their established connection now.

"You must heal his wounds. The easiest way is to bite the tip of your tongue so that you can press your healing blood into the holes and close them up. The flash of your pain will be momentary. Now, lift your hands and lick away some of the blood from his throat so you can better see what you are doing," she advised, tempted to help him do it - she didn't, of course. Her meal would come later. "Never waste blood; you are too much its slave to be so casual about it."

[pinkroses]

Murrphy’s golden eyes slid shut as she touched his shoulder, savouring that relief for just half a second. She was here, he was no longer alone. At that thought he instinctively reached out for Lazarus and could still feel his sire moving further away. Every minute was more than a mile, going, going… gone.

“I know,” he breathed as Jeanne told him he needed to heal Andy. He’d been healed himself by Ben, by Jake, by numerous other vampires. He knew the technical details, but the thought of doing it by himself, without someone there? He would have had to taste his blood again.

“If I hadn’t stopped there I wouldn’t have, I had to stop tasting him,” he explained as he tugged the headphones from his ears, feeling terrible at the thought of it. If not for her voice he would have kept drinking until there was nothing left.  He now had her permission to taste him again though, which excited him greatly. His own pain didn’t concern him right now – in the past hour and a half he’d felt more pain that he thought he’d be able to survive, but he had. Well, kind of. Not really.

Murphy twisted to face Andy more, and slowly lifted his hand to check the bleeding before moving faster to lick to blood from his fingers in a manner Jeanne would probably turn her nose up at. Once that was done - it only took seconds - he focused on the human’s throat, to lap at the blood on Andy’s skin, cleaning him carefully.

Calm, quiet, delicious, yes, calm, quiet, you’re ok. The mantra went around his mind into Andy’s (with the accidental addition) as he licked, savouring that taste again. Murphy could see the main wounds, and the first, smaller ones, and perhaps took a little more tome over it than was necessary, reluctant to stop getting that taste he craved.

But he could feel Jeanne right there, and her presence was enough to remind him of the task at hand before too long. Murphy bit at his tongue, making a small noise of surprise at himself and the sudden pain, then swiped his tongue over Andy’s throat, smearing the blood over Andy’s skin.

Murphy lifted his hand to cup the human’s cheek as he pulled back to watch his blood heal the abused neck. His thumb ran gently over Andy’s skin, reassuring him physically now, as well as mentally. A wave of relief came over him as he watched the wound’s heal and he glanced towards Jeanne with a satisfied, handsome grin (despite the blood cover his features), pleased with himself. Yes, given the right permission he would happy drink more deeply, but he’d had enough that he wasn’t quite as consumed by the need for it as he was earlier. He could think about Andy as a person, not just as a meal.

His focus turned back to Andy and he pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek.

You need to take it easy. You’re ok, but don’t push yourself. Call someone for a lift home. Call in sick tomorrow. He sent the final mental instructions without knowing whether they would really have any affect, before sliding himself out from under the weight of Andy’s body, leaning the human more towards the wall.

“Thank you,” he repeated, turning his golden eyes towards Jeanne. He knew very well that if she hadn’t picked up the phone that this could all have turned out a lot worse.

“Is that… is there anything I need to do? Will he be ok?” There was blood on Andy’s collar, but not too much. “Will you help him forget this?” He added as as after thought. There was the dog out there as well, would they get rid of that? There was so much to think about, it was overwhelming. And he knew he’d want more blood before the night was over as well.

[Existentially Odd]

"He'll be fine," Jeanne soothed, surveying Murphy's handiwork critically. It was crude but far more effective than most fledgelings, for which she was thankful; she hadn't been looking forward to cleaning up a murder. The human was pale and low on blood but his condition wasn't gong to be fatal. This was a surprisingly successful first feeding, indeed.

Remaining crouched by the mortal, she reverted to communicating with Murphy mentally, wanting to get a feel for how malleable his mind was, how receptive and communicative he would be. His sire had no mental skills worth mentioning; the childe had possibly already outdone its maker in his first hour and Jeanne had no intention of hobbling that learning trajectory. She intended to accelerate it as much as she could, and see how far Murphy could be pushed.

She shuffled quickly through Murphy's working memory, observing his arrival at the motel and subsequent siring through his eyes. The rebellion against Lazarus was brief and then the ancient was gone, heralding the phone call to her and Murphy's ensuing feeding attempts.

Once she was all caught up, she implanted an image of Murphy gathering up the dog corpse and disposing of it in the nearby rubbish receptacle, followed by him returning to the motel to collect his belongings. She tweaked his amygdala while she was at it - not enough to cause outright fear, but enough to encourage a sense of urgency in Murphy's actions - and also to sever his lingering connection with the mortal. It was easier and faster than talking him through it and she wasn't in the mood to prevaricate any longer.

While Murphy moved away, she attended to young Andy. The poor thing began to panic once Murphy left him, his eyes widening as he looked around. She quieted him quickly, touching his leg to gain his attention and smiling at him. He watched her inquiringly as she backed through his memory as well, seeing his work night become quite eventful once he found Murphy feasting upon a dog at the rear of his workplace.

Jeanne took all his memories of Murphy, stitching together Andy's reality of fear and a torn rubbish bag into a false one whereby the bag was torn by an angry dog that attacked him, biting at his neck before he shoved it off and it ran away. She reached over and calmly gouged his neck with two of her nails to support this memory and explain the blood on his clothing. She then flicked the skin she'd gathered out from under them with a look of distaste.

Glancing around the area, she saw a need for a clean up to completely wipe away the traces of what had conspired here, so she compelled Andy to go into his place of work and return with some buckets of hot water and a mop, to wash away the blood stains on the cement. She followed that with an image of him cleaning up the split garbage bag and its contents, before he went back into work and got himself a milkshake and a slice of pie (the sugar would get him through to the end of his shift, she reasoned).

As Andy got to his feet and moved off silently to do her bidding, Jeanne rolled her head in a tight circle and stood up. She rolled her shoulders for good measure as she headed back to the car, enjoying the sensation of the tension in them dispersing. It had been an eventful night and there were still at least three hours until dawn. Enough time to get back home and share this revelation with Charon. She amused herself by predicting his reaction while she stood beside the car, hands casually ensconced in her pants pockets, waiting for Murphy to return.

Hopefully he'd got a look at himself in a mirror and decided to clean up a little before he did. Merde, she should've thought of that and built it into her instructions, too. His sticky, bloody hands and face in her lovely car could make an awful mess. She spun around at the sound of Andy's first bucket of steaming water being dumped onto the pool of dog's blood, settling back against the car to observe him cleaning avidly while she waited for Murphy.

[pinkroses]

Murphy met Jeanne’s gaze as she began to search through his memory, making no attempt to stop her (even if he’d known how). It was easier than trying to put it into words, or worrying about missing out important bits.

He gave a nod at the imagine she sent to him, not quite understanding how she gave him that urgency, but recognising she must have done something. He stood up smoothly and headed straight to the dog, scooping it up gently and placing it into the huge dustbin the diner used. He felt bad for killing it, but there was no point lingering on that.

Although he already had his bag, Murphy followed Jeanne’s guidance to head back to the motel. Luckily the door hadn’t automatically locked on the motel room. Surprisingly, it wasn’t too much of a mess – the bed was messed up, there were a few drops of blood on the floor, but with the gaudy pattern they were hardly visible. Most of the blood seemed to have stayed on him.

Remembering that he must look like a bit of a state, Murphy headed through into the bathroom, stripping off his button up shirt and leaving the t-shirt underneath, which was in a better state. The fledgling scrubbed at his face and hands with the small bar of soap, making the water in the sink run pink with his and Andy’s blood combined. He splashed water through his hair as well for good measure, and wished he had time for a proper shower. The mirror in the bathroom was small, but did the job as Murphy made sure there was no more blood on his face and hands.

Once he knew he was clean Murphy took a second to just stare at himself in the mirror. He looked the same, apart from the expression of fear and those golden eyes. He’d always had flecks of gold in his hazel eyes, but they had spread to take over the whole iris. Anyone who knew him would be able to see there was something different and he didn’t want to deal with them. Jeanne, Charon, he dealt with them and liked them, but they weren’t exactly friends. Ben and Jake… this was going to hurt them, just like Lazarus had planned. They’d blame themselves…

as they should

…and might want to go after Lazarus.

Murphy pressed his lips together, trying to resist the urge to try to reach out to see where Lazarus was. He couldn’t spend every five minutes mentally searching for that prick.

After grabbing his button up shirt and shoving it into his bag, Murphy headed back outside. He glanced towards Andy who was diligently scrubbing the yard, but made a beeline straight for the car. He gave Jeanne a wry smile, shoving his own hands into his jeans pockets.

“Sorry,” he said simply, before glancing to the car she was leaning on. “We’ll go to Penbrook, right?” he added, pulling open the car door and holding it open for Jeanne to enter. Even if he’d wanted to go home, Lazarus had taken his keys so he wouldn’t be able to get in. Ben had a spare but there was no way Murphy was going there tonight. And Charon would no doubt want to hear about all of this.

[Existentially Odd]

Jeanne quirked an eyebrow at Murphy's presumptuous question, a smile playing around her lips but not landing as she regarded him, holding the door for her. She didn't move from her relaxed position, her head canted to look up at him.

"Oui, mon petit oiseau," she agreed, for he was a little bird, who had been delivered unto the care of the Sacramentum... one way or another. Still, that didn't give him the right to dictate to any of them and it was now her role to remind him of such. "But first, are you not forgetting something? I did not arrive here, to answer your desperate plea for help, alone, therefore I am not the only one deserving of your gratitude," she hinted, glancing beyond his shoulder at the driver, who was standing silently by her door, hands clasped politely in front of her body.

She'd been about to open the rear door for both of them; not only had Murphy slighted her by doing her job, he'd completely ignored her presence in the process. It was understandable, given his momentous preoccupation with his life-shift but Jeanne would not allow disrespect in any form. Everyone in their household mattered and no-one was beneath acknowledgement. If Murphy was going to spend any time with them - and she suspected it was going to be a significant amount, now - he needed to understand that.

[pinkroses]

Murphy’s cheeks coloured with the blood he’d just drunk, both with embarrassment at having forgotten Jeanne’s driver and appearing rude, but also at the reference to him as a ‘little bird’. Had she picked up on Lazarus calling him that in his memories, or was that just how everyone saw him? Ben, Lazarus, now Jeanne?

He thought he’d been being helpful by opening the door, but in his focus on Andy he’d forgotten the other.

“I’m sorry,” Murphy said genuinely as he turned to Jeanne’s driver. “I didn’t think. Thank you, especially for getting here so quickly, or I would have… thank you,” he repeated, hesitating for a moment before holding out a (now clean) hand to her. The hesitation hadn’t been from a lack of respect on his part, but after what she’d just seen of him Murphy didn’t know if she’d want to shake his hand.

[Existentially Odd]

The driver blushed also and nodded, a bashful smile lighting up her face as she was acknowledged. She shook his hand firmly, once, then let it go. "You're welcome," she answered gruffly.

Jeanne was smiling properly now, enjoying the driver's humility. "It was magnificent driving," she agreed huskily, drawing the driver's gaze and another blush. "Merci beaucoup. Please take us home," she instructed then slid liquidly into the car, moving across the seat so that Murphy had room to get in beside her.

She picked up her phone as she did, pondering sending a warning text - Hugh or Ari were likely to be at home and most likely near their phones - but deciding against it. Charon was likely to have felt her impact because she'd used her presence to get the car safely and swiftly out of the city; a sudden burst of power use like that would have snared his attention. He didn't need any more warning than that.

Jeanne watched Murphy get into the car, noting that he pulled the door closed behind him. The driver watched him do it and then got into the front, putting her belt on, starting the car and driving them away from this anonymous pocket of significant change. Jeanne gazed at Murphy speculatively, crossing her left leg over her right and turning slightly towards the newly-made vampire, hands clasped elegantly in her lap. "Do you wish to talk or would you rather silence?" she enquired.

There would be plenty of time for talking when they arrived at Penbrook. Murphy might like to speak now, to get his thoughts in order before he spoke with Charon, or he might prefer to be alone with them. Jeanne had no preference and neither choice would offend her.

[pinkroses]

Murphy was relieved Jeanne didn’t string out his embarrassment, and it looked like the driver was too. He slid into the car after her, clutching his bag in his lap once his seatbelt was on, gripping it for reassurance. He glanced towards her as she picked up her phone, wondering whether she was telling anyone else, but she seemed to dismiss that idea. She might have already contacted them mentally for all he knew.

“I think, I just need to just… be quiet for now,” Murphy said softly, hoping she wouldn’t be offended by his choice. She already knew everything that had happened, so there was little point going over it again. He was tired as well, and that gnawing inside, whilst lessened, was still there, so he wanted to just focus on getting to Penbrook. There were donors there and no doubt Charon would want to see him tonight. There were only a few hours before sunrise – something he’d never experience again.

Murphy turned to look out of the window as the scenery shot past – not as quickly as on Jeanne’s journey here, but considerably faster than on Murphy’s trip out. He’d never have a hamburger again. Never lie on the beach enjoying the sunshine. Never get that bliss from being drunk from. Never be able to see a rainbow. Yes, he’d planned on being sired one day, but all of those ‘last times’ had been stolen from him. Lazarus taken all that in the mad rush when he’d turned him – the word siring didn’t seem to fit what Lazarus had done. He was not what a sire should be, but he was what Murphy had.

Continued here.