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MAGIC MAN by Joondalup Arts

::Erik::  I noticed earlier your cane doesn't seem entirely an accessory to your evening attire.  Was it a decision you made by trial or even necessity for health reasons? 

::Kreizler blinked at Erik::  You're either a gifted perceptive or you've already discovered details about me which I assumed exclusive to my most intimate friends. 

I'm neither ::Erik smiled lightly::  I made a deduction based on you being a human sanguinarian using a cane, and John being Lycan.  And I'm decidedly familiar with the reasons behind our mutual friend's decision.  ::Erik motioned to Jan::   

::There was a tight pause as he gauged Kreizler's pensive expression.::  Have I somehow offended you?  ::he decided to ask in case his candor was ill-timed with this new and clearly very private ally:: 

::Kreizler shook his head and wagged his left hand as if to virtual brush away the supposed indiscretion::  No, no. Not at all, Erik.  I'm surprised at your skill at query perhaps.  ::He offered Erik a sheepish smile.::  You are incredibly perceptive though.  Truly.  ::his smile broadened::   And, please, let me apologize if my manner of communication is too frank.  Even after all these years, I'm afraid my mouth can outrun my brain sometimes.  ::he chuffed a little laugh:: 

Yeah, I get that.  ::Erik smirked back amiably::  And when you've been around a while I guess you pick up on things.  I'm really no accomplished wit or anything. ::he chuckled lightly::  Just observant I guess. 

::Kreizler nodded, still smiling a little::  I suppose I'd have to say there are two parts to that answer, Erik.  The former would be the most related to your question.  But the latter may as well be offered to provide the bigger picture. 

I've been anemic all my life and developed muscle disease in my teenage years.  What was originally thought to be simply growing pains turned out to be inflammatory myositis.  Between the fatigue and nausea, and chronic pain, you can imagine how my ability to focus on my studies began to suffer, as did nearly every aspect of my life.  I was often bed-ridden with fatigue, or barely moved from our settee as the very act of raising myself to stand was unbearably painful. 

::Kreizler sipped at then gulped his wine::  There's only so much liver, iodine, salicylates, and ferrous salt, among so many other innumerable tortures one can take before the treatment begins to outweigh the cure. 

::He glanced at Moore, watching him with warm, soft eyes::  Moore approached me with the notion of insanguination.  He knew far more than I about the vitality of lycan and vampire blood, and was very positive it could help me in many ways. 

I was of course stoutly against it at first.  Raised Catholic and apparently not very open-minded yet at the time, we fought viciously over ethics as well as the fact that my insistence that blood-drinking was abhorrent was a direct prejudice, dogmatic, and racist toward John himself as a part-lycan borne of a half-lycan father. 

And he was absolutely right.  I was being all of those things, and more.  And in the face of my oldest, dearest friend who wanted nothing more than to see my thrive again  ::Kreizler exhaled shakily.  His glossy eyes tremored with emotion and he looked down at his plate again::  So I tried it.  ::he looked back up to Jan and Erik and Mina::  Only a little at first.  John let from his wrist into a glass... not more than a few tablespoons but it was enough.   

::He shook his head a little::  It was terrible.  I hated it.  It seemed so profane.  I wanted to throw it up.  ::he pressed a knuckle to his upper lip and swallowed thickly::  But I couldn't.  I could hardly even gag up anything at all I felt so frozen with blasphemy.  I locked myself in the bathroom and told John to move out.   

::he stroked his hand across his beard, and snorted at himself::  A terrible vertigo overwhelmed me and I felt aflame with fever, so I stripped and lay on the floor... sobbing... until it passed.  I fell asleep in there like that.  And the next morning, when I got up and opened the door, l actually felt quite well and I wanted to tell John so I called for him.  When he didn't answer and seemed nowhere in the house, I thought he really had left.  I thought I had run off the last person that seemed to care anything at all for me. 

I nearly became undone. ::His fingers pressed over his mouth:: 

::Moore reached and lay his hand on Laszlo's shoulder::  Our house phone wasn't working again, so I'd been down the hall to phone my grandmother to explain I'd not be over for lunch.  Something very important had come up which could not wait. 

I'd forgotten about the phone ::Laszlo smiled up at him:: 

Yes you did.  ::Moore smiled back:: 

So..!  ::Laszlo nodded, dabbing his eyes with his napkin, coughing a little::  I said I thought just maybe it had worked because I was feeling ... not better per se, but different.  Obviously the small amount couldn't have done much for me and clearly that dosage didn't last.  But I was convinced already that the ichor was going to help me.   

::he raised his hands::  And it absolutely has ever since. 

::Mina smiled::  that’s wonderful…. Things couldn’t have worked out any better. ::she looked to Moore:: do you have family still around? 

When my mother passed my father moved to the UK.  I've not seen him since.  I know there are living Moores in our bloodline there and many others here in America, but I've never found myself preoccupied with my family tree.  I'm afraid I can only say that those I can account for are either dead, or whom I feel may as well be just be dead to me.  ::Moore smirked smartly at her, lips tightening, gaze flattening:: 

No, John.  That's not true ::Laszlo nearly twisted in his chair to face Moore::  You'd reconcile if given the change.  You've said so many times before. 

Yes... ::Moore rolled his eyes and supped the rest of Laszlo's vodka shot, then the rest of his own wine::  So I've said many times before... ::he glanced around for the attendant to bring more wine, then added bitterly::  We'll certainly see what I have to say if that pomposity ever rears his hideous head around me again. 

Do you think he's still alive?  ::Erik asked, also taking another glass of wine:: 

Quite honestly, at this point, Erik, I could give two shits. ::Moore chuffed:: 

John..! ::Laszlo frowned at him:: 

Oh please, Laszlo.  Don't mock me.  You curse just fine when you're blood is up.  ::Moore gazed at him hotly:: 

Please calm down, John.  You mustn't always let talk of your father ire you so ::Laszlo tried sounding compassionate, but Moore just heard preaching:: 

::Moore stood abruptly then, spiking his napkin into his chair.  Excuse me.  This is not in response to any of you. 

John...! ::Laszlo mewled desperately up at him but Moore pivoted away and stalked off::   

Scheiße.  ::Laszlo hissed at his fists, balled and quaking above his lap.  His left hand swiped across his face then and he sighed sharply.  He raised his gaze to Jan, pink cheeked and glassy eyed::  I just don't know how to change his mind. 

::Jan blinked at him casually:: Perhaps it's your response to him which needs to change. 

I've tried.  ::Laszlo lamented quietly:: 

::Jan offered him a soft smile::  Do you have an attending counselor? 

::Laszlo::  I'm sorry?  

::Jan::  Are you seeing a psychiatrist? 

::Laszlo::  Not currently. 

::Jan::  How long has it been? 

::Laszlo:: <sigh> I can't remember. 

::Jan::  Would you like- ? 

::Jan didn't even finish his question when Laszlo blurt::  Yes very much thank you!  ::Below the table, his fingertips curled into his thighs.  He exhaled roughly, eyes moving between the others::  I suppose none of you were prepared for any dinner theatre tonight, did you?  ::He chuckled tightly, still working on quelling his disquiet:: 

::Erik::  May I call you Laszlo? 

::Laszlo::  Please do. 

::Erik::  Laszlo, why haven't you had John turn you yet?  If you're using his ichor to medicate, and you're both committed to each other, why not just turn and ensure your best health and long lives together. 

::Laszlo sat back in his chair, his fine, slender hands resting in his lap, and sighed out one last puff of angst.::  We tried.  Or I should say he tried.  I don't think his amalgamate is strong enough.  

Why do you think that?  ::Erik lifted his arm and placed it against the back of Mina's chair:: 

SOMEWHERE ALONG THE WAY LOL 

::Their finished meals were bussed away and dessert and coffee was offered.  Mina ordered the Bananas Foster minus the Affogato.  Erik asked for the Peach Semifreddo and black coffee.  Laszlo asked Mina if she'd like to switch to Champagne and she heartily accepted the offer so he ordered them Veuve Clicquot, and an extra flute for Moore.  Jan took coffee, black.:: 

::Laszlo coughed; two quick chuffs. Sighed quietly, chuffed again:: 

I.M.? ::Jan asked him:: 

::Laszlo nodded::  Comes and goes.  When I'm tired or dehydrated mostly. 

So, all the time ::Jan half mused:: 

::Laszlo snorted softly at him, smirking.  His gaze returned to Erik then::  Remember I said there were two parts to my answer to your question about my sanguinarianism? 

Mmhm ::Erik nodded:: 

::Laszlo::  A long time ago, and for many years John and I allied with a small team of enquirers:  a lady P.I. and her cohort, and two detective sergeants generally on permanent loan from the New York Police Department.  We primarily investigated homicides, although John and I did assist on several missing persons cases.  Anyway, one evening we ran afoul of our killer and John had him on foot heading toward the Gilsey.   

When John caught him they grappled and the suspect shot him in the chest which separated them.   

I made the stupid mistake of calling out to John and was consequently turned upon and also shot.  He fired two into my chest, one in the loin, and the last went into my neck.  Current medical procedures involving transfusions were barely used at that time and very arrhythmic.  My health was failing faster than I could be transfused.  John of course healed just fine in a matter of days.  But I'd lost too much blood, and already being anemic, my prognosis was very poor. 

Fortuitously though we had a nurse from the Lying-In Hospital we'd befriended from an earlier case.  She and Lucius--one of our detective sergeants well versed in anatomy--drew vial after vial from John for weeks and fed me every drop they could wring from him without also making him sick. Which he became anyway. <heavy sigh> 

Even in my grievous state, knowing now how readily the human marrow is for producing our blood, it's far greedier for donor blood from a dynamic host.  His blood did save my life but it never turned me.  He simply couldn't give me enough fast enough.   

With that testimony being said, his amalgamate doesn't appear strong enough to even fully cure me of my own, organic afflictions.  ::he motioned to his cane.  he flattened his hand over his breast, implying his lungs::   

It was never assumed that turning me would save my life.  The only thought at that time was just to save my life. 

It is evident, though, that once recovered, I came away much stronger than before the shooting.  I have far more tone, and vigor.  But the overall procedure certainly did not bestow upon me a wholeness of health which would normally be expected from a Lycan transfusion. 

::Minas right eyebrow raised a bit::  well we are certainly happy that you survived being shot…. But what about now?  Have you both considered turning you now?  It seems so much easier to turn that to manage to specific amounts and dosages to maintain. it seems like such a science!  ::she glances to 

Jan with a smile::  maybe that’s why you like it so much… the process and control and maintenance of the dosages.  I’ve never thought about how difficult it is to maintain without over doing it.   

It's absolutely a science. ::Jan replied, smirking at her, his golden eyes watching her cleverly::  Having a consistent, clean, powerful donor helps.   ::he grinned at Erik then:: 

You're welcome ::Erik grinned back. They clinked coffee cups and snickered at each other:: 

And I enjoy a great many things about it.  ::Jan glanced to her again::  The distillation of amalgamate is not one of them though, so it's easiest to just store what I can carefully using proven methods.  Having a great network of Evolved to tutor me has been categorically principal in establishing and maintaining those methods, as well as and improving upon them whenever I can. 

Honestly, Mina, it's really not something we discuss very often at all ::Laszlo responded.  He tipped his head then::  It is alright that I address you as Mina? 

::Mina nods:: absolutely you can cal me Mina.  We are hardly the type that demand formality..  especially among friends. 

Thank you! ::Laszlo offered her a genuine and happy, toothy smile.  He was still smirking when he supped strongly from his champagne. 

He had taken some time to warm up--not that he'd been cool or unfriendly in the least!  And he'd even seemed to struggle through a myriad of emotions over the past few hours while in their presence.  In part, true, his anxiety was goaded along by the varying, and often personal nature of the subject matter they discussed, but there was evidence that finding the right balance of attitude had been very heavily at play for him for much of the evening.   

Now, however, without Moore beside him, his demeanor was less rigid, more relaxed, more animated.  His expressions were less reserved, more free flowing.  The spark in his eye was bright and alluring.  He was overall more attractive and definitely more engaging. 

Maybe it wasn't the lack of Moore's distractive presence and more the two glasses of wine, the half-finished flute of champagne, and the full belly of rich foods.  Either way, they three took notice of the change in him.:: 

It's queer how time speeds when we allow ourselves to invest in our happenings.  We've had such an agreeable living that considering anything different has barely been our topic since that incident.  ::Laszlo added for Mina, continuing his response to her question::  We're certainly not complacent in anything, some routine has been well received.  And although the blood draws and administration have changed some... ::he glanced to Jan::  Nothing is much different now than it was 100 years ago.  In fact, after having imbibed approximately two years, my vigor was such advanced from its former attitude, we began to travel.  ::he paused, supped his champagne again::  By that time, I couldn't recall having left New England since I'd opened the Institute. 

We've been very fortunate.  ::he paused, chuffed::  Blessed, actually.  Perhaps the most distressing thing we've endured since the shooting wa the closure of the Institute. 

For the children...? ::Erik part-asked:: 

Correct.  ::Laszlo nodded::  I opened the Kreizler Institute in 1885 and by 1950, it was virtually useless for its original intent.  I was 100-percent against turning it into an asylum for wealthy families to dump their... unfortunates.  ::he sneered::  My mission was always to provide sanctuary and answers, and HOPE; to edify young people.  We were a school.  A place for learning, not a stockyard where parents could abandon their problem colts, then rarely visit, or worse never return. 

I shut down the schooling portion and reassessed the files of any remaining students whose parents still wanted to pay for therapeutic services.  It was arduous and heartbreaking.  ::He shook his head::  But at least I was still helping troubled children.  The ways the State handled social services, the economy, commerce, the whole of the population, everything! seemed to morph constantly after the Crash.  The Justice System especially was completely different by then. 

The 50s?  ::Erik asked, making sure he was following Laszlo's verbal timeline:: 

Yes. ::Laszlo nodded sharply once.  He chuckled then::  I apologize if I'm rambling on.  I don't know what's gotten into me ::he blushed again and lowered his eyes a moment, before gazing back at them quietly with a sheepish smile:: 

It's very true that the 50s and 60s completely changed socially.  My client base became almost entirely criminal or forensic by '68.  ::Jan piped up:: 

'68 specifically?  ::Erik mused::  That's not an arbitrary year, it's specific. 

::Jan smirked at him::  Robert Kennedy died that year.  It's not arbitrary. 

Oh!  ::Erik laughed::  OK that makes sense! ::he chuckled heartily again, grinning at Jan:: 

::Moore finally returned, smelling of cigarettes and sticky night air::  I apologize for my absence.  Thank you all for being accommodating.  ::He sat back down next to Laszlo, who began reaching for the champagne for Moore, but Moore was already helping himself, snatching up the bottle and pouring liberally into his flute, finishing off the bottle. 

Should I order another?  ::Erik offered:: 

::Moore gulped from his flute, then replied briskly to Erik::  No, rather, I say we move our merry band to someplace more informal. 

How informal?  ::Erik cocked a brow at him:: 

::Moore cocked a brow back::  What have you in mind? 

What have YOU in mind? ::Erik grinned:: 

::Moore grinned a fangy smile right back at him, chuckling gruffly::  I'm not quite sure.  But I'm certain it involves cocktails and dancing.  ::Mild horror glazed Laszlo's dark eyes as he gasped silently up at Moore as if to speak out in protest.  Instead though, he closed his mouth and stayed quiet.  His hands slid from the edge of the table back into his lap in his typical, oft-adopted, snug and restrained, guarded posture.:: 

I can definitely think of a few places you may like.::Erik offered::   

::Moore drained his flute, nodding to Erik, then set the glass down with a brusque clunk.  He slid his arm across Laszlo's shoulders then and leaned his face near to Laszlo's cheek::   

We're not in New York right now.  Let's enjoy the distance... 

::he allowed his hot breath to buffet against Laszlo's collar, watched the doctor's eye roll to its corner to peer down at Moore's mouth so close to his neck. He heard the squelch and click of Laszlo's throat working wetly.   

Laszlo had stopped breathing. His lips had parted.  His head gave a wee twitch; a compliant nod. 

Thank you, Laszlo. Moore merely mouthed the words but he may have shouted them to the whole room for how loud and clear his gratitude landed on all the ears at their table. 

Moore turned his head, eyeing Jan, then Erik, and finally resting his gaze on Mina.  His leer grew with each tick of his eyes from person to person::   

Let’s also give ourselves more time to get to know our new friends much better. 

HUNGARIAN TOAST: 

"Célozzunk mindig magasra, tartsuk alacsonyan az egónkat, és járjunk barátaink mellett."