Vincent was on the phone with Ben when a car entered his driveway. He'd been standing in the front room, speaking with the sire-less vampire who was limping around the topic of training. Vincent was giving him time to get to the subject on his own, but suspected that asking for help wasn't in the youngling's nature. He was smiling at the awkwardness of the other; not in a cruel derogatory way, but with indulgence and the wise knowledge of one who is much older watching the struggles of the new. When headlights splashed into his room through the window, he knew it was Owen arriving.
He told Ben that someone was arriving at his house, but didn't say who, and immediately offered a date in a couple of night's time for training. He recommended his own place, not wanting to be out for too long in case Owen dropped in unexpectedly like he had tonight. Ben was silent for a moment on the other end of the line, and if Vincent hadn't heard the constant washing echo of the surf through the phone he might've believed he'd been disconnected. He waited out the young vampire with an impatience that the other wouldn't see, and when Ben softly agreed that he would come by around midnight, Vincent thanked him and said he would see him then before excusing himself and hanging up with a quick goodbye. When the knock came, he was only a few steps away from the door after pocketing his mobile, but he took a moment to close his eyes and wish that Owen had come back to him in order to work things out, so they could be together again. Then he strode to the door and flicked the lock, sweeping it open and smiling at his fledge with an openness that betrayed his hope.
His heart didn't know whether to rise or fall at Owen's request. With training, they could be together in a civil way, reclaim some of the time together that they were losing, and perhaps reconnect over time and finally come together. With training, they could be friendly, but Vincent would be almost perfunctory as a sire, and unnecessary as a husband and lover. Without realising it, his right hand stole to his left and he twisted the ring on his finger that Owen had given him the night he'd been sired.
"Of course," he said, releasing his left hand from the hold on his right in order to reach out towards Owen, but it didn't get far before he rethought himself and stepped back and away from the door instead, using his left hand now to gesture that Owen should step inside. The obvious change in his maneouvre had him feeling ridiculous and aware that he was overly conscious of touching his fledge. It reminded him absurdly of all the times he had touched Owen; intimately, lovingly, gently, flesh on flesh.
His thoughts were beginning to become highly inappropriate, and he was aware he'd never been so lustful with anyone like he was with Owen. Even his sire, who'd accused him of being a boring lover, of wanting more and getting it from others, leaving Vincent with a combination of heartbreak, resentment and relief. Owen had given him new energy, refreshed his desires and compounded them. He had to restrain himself, and so it would be best if he just didn't touch at all.
It was peculiar how he was now offering to train with two young blonde vampires suddenly, one his fledge and another a sire-less fledge (though he sensed Ben had a number of years on Owen - perhaps ten or twenty). He considered for the briefest of moments to train them together, but decided against it. He wanted his time with Owen to himself. Perhaps it was selfish, but if that was the case, then he was comfortable being selfish. He didn't want to share his time with Owen, not when Owen was already sharing himself with the world without him.
He indicated Owen should move into the front room, and shut the door after him.