roman rose

|

Leaving behind his jacket as his muscles tensed in glorious expectation, Peter himself would’ve been lying if he’d said he wasn’t salivating at the moment. At the vampire’s playful scolding, the werewolf chuckled, rolling his eyes. He was more relaxed now that a plan had been formed and they were unfolding it. Old habits died hard, especially with company such as was Roman who identified the darkness within the werewolf so long before. 

“I was thinking we run. Faster, stealthier… I get to show your old ass this teenager still got it,” Peter snuck in playfully with a chuckle. Roman’s silent eagerness and excitement was contagious. And for a bit, Peter could be himself—even if under false pretenses…

“Especially Malia,” Peter agreed. “My priority is Malia,” he added, as a shadow of disgusting guilt creeped into his chest. All the macabre fantasies in his mind quieted at the name of his daughter being spoken, his plan changing from heinous torture to more orthodox killings. “Meet you there, slowpoke,” Peter teased, dashing off at full speed to the first address they’d agreed upon.

.

Roman didn’t mention being a faster runner than most werewolves, knowing it would be proven in moments, and instead grinned at Peter; waiting to give the wolf a long head start.

It had been far too long since they’d done this. In fact, Roman could barely remember the last time he and Peter had gone all out- years perhaps, maybe back in the beginning when Roman had first returned to Beacon Hills and Peter had gotten into a tizzy over the bad way Roman had gotten. The vampire had no concept of home, not really, nor family, but if he did he might have considered Peter a part of it certainly. Joshua and Olivia, of course, but Joshua was never around and Olivia’s scathing remarks often had Roman second guessing if she was joking or not.

With Peter though, Roman always knew the asshole didn’t really mean it. Just like Pete knew Roman didn’t.

After waiting enough time, Roman summoned up all the vampric speed his kind were known for, and in a flash had caught Peter up. With a wink, he passed the wolf and leapt up onto the roof of the house.

Like something from Hereditary, Roman crawled over the roof silently and peeked down through the window light shone through, and flashed his friend a smile- sharp and crooked through the night- before entering. Thank g-d the invitation entering was a myth.

Once inside, Roman stood watching the hunter making himself dinner and leaned his hip on the counter top awaiting being noticed. Just when Roman was about to alert the man, if only so Peter didn’t get bored outside and ruin Roman’s fun, the hunter turned and let out a startled yell.

“Ei’ up, Rich. Did y’know you’ve locked the dog out? Tha’s not fair.” Roman pouted.

Richard, or Rich has Roman recalled his friends called him, gripped the counter behind him, staring wide eyed at the vampire suddenly in his home. “Dog? I-I don’t have a dog.”

The vampire sighed, moved over to the kitchen’s back door, and opened it. He gestured to the blackness outside. “Well, who’s this then?”

—

The strain of a new job had thrown Erica off balance more than she had realized. It shouldn’t have taken Erica so long to connect the dots: Older vampire, works with Peter, named Roman. 

He was Stiles’ sire. 

She was going to give him the best damn eye makeup ever. 

“My first rave ended in murder and my first time really dancing was at the carnival, so,” Erica’s eyes rolled. “I have more experience with unnecessary gymnastics while running than dancing. Close your eyes.” Erica rolled out her mini kit out on the table, her brush twirling in her in-between her fingers. “My first alpha had a bit of a flip addiction,” she added dryly in explanation, the thin tip of her brush skating over her black liner.  

.

Roman whistled at her experience.

“Sounds like a fuck ton’a fun to me,” he said, obediently closing his eyes for her. “carnival less so. I had fun there right up until surprise parenthood hit me like freight train.”

Not that he’d ever take back siring Stiles, but he’d never wanted to be a sire in the first place. Out of fear of the True Alpha, Roman had turned Stiles- a guy he’d barely known and thus far enjoyed teasing more than anything else- which was embarrassing considering how much of a puppy Scott turned out to be once Roman knew him better.

“From what I’ve seen of you wolves, you don’t half like twirling in the air as much as running on all fours, arse in the air,” Roman teased lightly. “but that being said, it’s a starting point. You know, you can always stop by the club out of hours and ask for me, I’ll be willing to give you practical lessons.”

He opened one eye.

“If Pete minds then he can fuck off somewhere else,” the vampire laughed, thinking of the many times he and the man had told each other so in jest. 

.

Kira blushed hearing Roman’s description of Scott, looking down shyly. “Yeah well you better like him, because he’s my boyfriend. Otherwise I’d have to kick your butt.” She teased, brushing some hair away from her face, embarassed. Thinking about Scott lifted her mood a little, and she got lost in her thoughts a little as Roman talked about the family he knew. Satomi had been really old, right? So… maybe Scott would get to be. Maybe she wouldn’t lose him too soon. 

“Let’s… not think about the sad parts then. How about the good parts.” She suggested, smiling a little brighter. “Are there any photos of you in the past? Like, really old photos? If mom has some of her, she hasn’t shown me most of them. Really she’s difficult to talk to about these things sometimes. You’re more… laidback.”

.

Hearing this woman was dating the True Alpha, Roman chuckled.

“Y’know, when I first met Stiles and your man, I thought they was a thing,” he admitted, amused by the thought now. “It’d be no shame being beat by a kitsune, you lot are something else.”

The only species Roman considered cooler than a kitsune was of course... a mermaid. He just liked rarity, and viciousness- though Kira seemed considerably less so than the first and only kitsune he’d encountered.

“I love good parts! Um, I’m not sure,” he tried to think of any time he might have been caught on camera. “obviously there’s ones of me from the last thirty years or so, but I’m guessing you mean the good stuff; ol’ guvna, chuckaboo victorian eh?”

Roman had learned very quickly to Americanise his accent when he’d moved to the new world, as his genuine accent was the source of many gags and jokes in more modern times. It was funny, he’d never deny that, but it made him realise how isolated he’d been before.

“I think I remember some blokes doing surveys of the slums, some study of the workin’ class and all that. I was probably about this big,” he gestured to around his hip height. “they had a massive camera and took pictures of all us kids hanging out in the street; so that’s out there somewhere. My old sire did commission paintings of me though, but they’re in storage.”

The vampire considered his impending offer for a moment.

“If you’re really that interested, I can go get them out. It’ll take a few days but there’s about five or six-” six, exactly. And one partially incomplete. Roman knew the paintings well. 

—

Erica hummed, her lips twitching upward at Roman calling Peter ‘Pete’. She was sure the werewolf loved that. She leaned forward on her elbows, eyes sparkling mischievously. 

“I never learned how to pole dance, but I have to admit I’m curious.” Her eyes swept over Roman’s currently bare eyes. 

“I have some of my backup makeup in my locker. If you promise to behave for the 90 seconds it’ll take me to get it; I can do your eyes for you.” she grinned. “If you tell me more about pole dancing, that is.” The she-wolf fluttered her eyelashes at the vampire. If Erica wanted to keep a closer eye on Peter, she’d need skills that wouldn’t allow him to turn her away. Cora had already told her that Peter had tried to get her to leave the club for her safety. Erica wasn’t going to give Peter the chance to do the same.

 She knew how to hustle too.  

.

The vampire brightened at the thought of having his make up done, and better yet having some lessons. At her cost of teaching her about pole dancing, Roman brought up a hand for her to shake.

“You got it,” he grinned, already excited. As he waited for her to come back, the vampire considered the best first few tips.

Once Erica was back, Roman drummed his hands on the place beside him in the booth, practically vibrating.

“Welcome to pole dancing with Roman! Lesson one and the most important thing; strength training. Now, now- I know since you’re a little wolfie, building up shouldn’t be a problem, but running free in the woods and tossing around other wolves in fights as a super strong werewolf isn’t the same as knowing how to hold yourself up on a pole. You don’t see competitive strongmen knowing shit about acrobatics, after all.”

He had a few decades of pole dance under his belt, and far longer of acrobatics and other dance forms, so it was always nice to teach others what he’d learned over the years.

“I’ve met a few supernaturals who didn’t realise how different it is. Hm, you have any dance experience? Not important, but it’s a bonus.”

—

So he worked at Peter’s. Erica breathed easier. She didn’t know why the vampire needed a babysitter, but it didn’t seem to be of the dangerous variety. It had been her understanding that Elysium and White Fang had a respectful sort of partnership. It had been part of the reason why Erica had come to Olivia in the first place. 

If she wasn’t ready to work for Peter yet, that wasn’t going to stop her from staying close. Hunters could try to pull another attack. Erica wouldn’t mind the excuse to get her claws on them. 

Erica shifted closer to Roman, carefully closing just one eye so Roman could get a better look at her work. There was something classic about a clean cat-eye. It was something Erica could still claim she had pride in. “I always had a way with a paintbrush when I was growing up.” she breezed. Her time in Mr. Nathaniel’s art class was her only happy memories of school pre-bite. “This is just a smaller brush, really.” 

.

Roman peered closer at her work, admiration on his face.

“Wow,” he remarked, liking the eyeshadow too. “you could do that as a job, you know? I knew someone once who made a ton of money just going around homes selling make up to people. I mean, she did it to feed on them too, but these were pre-ambrosia days so you’ve gotta respect the hustle there.”

She’d helped him out once or twice with a feed, but when his personality got too irritating for her she’d soon told him to piss off or she’d rip his head off. Literally.

“I was never much good at art, even now if I draw anything it comes out looking wobbly and really, really cursed,” he lamented. “My skills are strictly in dancing and pole work. I’ve been working for Pete the third longest now, only two got me beat but they ain’t as good on the pole as me. Swings and round-abouts.”

–

Alec listened to the vampire, his mind already starting to form plans to avoid something like this happening again. “Trust me,” he said, with a hint of a smile, “I am aware of the distrust toward my kind and I do understand and respect it. I’m willing to do what needs to be done to earn your trust.” He had managed to do it before with the Downworlders in New York, he would have to work on it again. “This place won’t be overrun by Shadowhunters, I’m mostly going to be working with the ones who are already here and established.” The Clave wasn’t going to allow him to reach out for more support anyway - though he would try and contact a few people who could be inclined to help in any way. 

When he thought about the punishment the hunters would have to face, his face grew hard. “As for punishing the hunters, my people nor I are currently in the position where we are allowed to punish them but my husband is part of the UWA and I’m sure he’ll pull every string necessary to make sure they do get what they deserve.” And if the UWA would be of no help, well, Alec wasn’t above covering for people to dish out their own punishment if it came down to it. 

Without hesitating, Alec took one of the business cards from his pocket which contained his name as well as his phone number -  he had printed them to make staying in touch with others easier. “Look, here’s my card. If you do need anything, feel free to text or call. In the meantime, I’m going to check on the others to make sure they’re going to be okay or if they need additional healing. If you think of anything that could help us get to the attackers and if you feel comfortable sharing the information with me, please do so.”

.

With a sceptical eye, Roman accepted the card. He looked down at the name, recognising it from somewhere, and then back up at Alec.

The thought that there were already Shadowhunters established in the town bothered Roman in a way that it hadn’t before. The attacks on his people could have been endorsed by the Shadowhunters for all he knew... Shit he was beginning to sound like Peter, or something.

“Oh great, the UWA. I feel so reassured,” Roman replied, tone bone dry. “So instead of one probably corrupt organisation, it’s a different probably corrupt organisation handling it: got it, thanks.”

As benevolent as Alec might think his lot were, and as decent a guy as Alec seemed, Roman wasn’t about to believe there wasn’t some kind of corruption behind the scenes. Anyone with power and authority were bound to find themselves infected by it somehow, sometime.

“Might give you a ring, yeah. Or just send you lots of stupid gifs,” the vampire grinned, pocketing the card. 

|

Peter couldn’t help arching a brow at the vampire’s words. “Usually. Some foot soldiers aren’t family though,” the werewolf pointed out. He wondered if Roman hadn’t realized it before. After all, ever since they had met, Roman had been more of a nomad. While the Hales called Beacon Hills their home proudly. Hunters were not always only enemies, but Talia had managed to win some over to her side… Of course, there was the whole…. Gerard and Kate waltzed into their lives bit. 

“If they go to prison, I can arrange to have them eliminated,” Peter answered. What was most convenient: his connections would be able to make it look like a gang thing rather than a supernatural’s revenge. “ Otherwise, I’d say no. It’s unnecessary heat we’d bring to ourselves,” the werewolf explained coldly. It wasn’t that he didn’t want their lives, nor that they didn’t deserve to lose them. But if known individuals attached to the White Fang attack died or went missing, the Sheriff’s Station would be up their asses in no time. Perhaps once he’d taken out his anger on the first few he’d be more clear minded and could come up with a good plan to rid the world of those… But just then, all he could think of was to damn the unveiling. 

Hearing Roman tap his finger on a picture, the werewolf stood over the vampire, looking over his shoulder. “Let’s go,” he stated, moving to the door and holding it open for Roman. 

.

Roman clapped his hands in excitement, and practically skipped out the door Peter held open for him.

“Eliminating them in prison sounds so shady, Pete. Nasty boy,” he tsked, tone far too playful to be anything but a joke. It sounded far less fun to have someone else deal with them, than being able to handle it themselves, but Roman understood the importance of keeping their hands as clean as possible.

What they were doing now was bad enough.

“Do I get to ride in your big, fancy car or are we running there?” he asked once they were out of the club. 

The cool night felt nice on his skin compared to the heady layer always within the club. Even though Roman was dead, by all biological definition, he felt very much alive in that moment; itching to sink his teeth into someone who deserved it.

Last time Peter had let him in said car, Roman had spilled ambrosia on the leather, so he’d get it if the other man didn’t let him.

The vampire hovered near the car, jumping on the spot between it and the parking lot exit: hopping between getting in and running off. He knew the address, he’d a sharp memory for those kinds of things, so he could easily find his way there.

“We agree that Cora, Malia and Stiles ain’t finding out about this, right?” Roman asked. “and you know, that Alpha of yours.”

“It’s never a logical choice… I mean, unless the other person’s hurting people. I had someone locked away, but that was because he hurt Scott, and killed a bunch of people. He’s back in town now, but we don’t talk about that.” She said, sighing at the thought of Theo. 

Hearing his denial that he was anything to do with the pack, Kira couldn’t hold in the giggle. “Have you met Scott? Trust me, he’s not going to take no for an answer. You’re connected to Stiles, that means you’re connected to us. Just something you’re gonna have to live with.” She teased.

Her face fell at his explanation, shrugging her shoulders. “But the feeling bad side of things isn’t grand. And it is the end of the world if you have to just… watch the people you care about die. I don’t know how my mom’s done it for so long.”

.

Roman almost reeled from that casual input. He wanted to ask who that was, since hurting Scott by proxy hurt Stiles, which then meant it was Roman’s business; but then he reminded himself he was trying to claim not to be in any pack.

“I have, he’s a charming little fuck I guess.” He’d concede that point. 

When her mood only further lowered, Roman tried to think of a way to cheer her up. This wasn’t something he was all too familiar with, being someone who liked others at a comfortable distance and rarely had meaningful interactions with mortals. 

“I knew a family once, back when I first came to America, this couple who helped me out of a tricky situation I’d have known better about had I not been so naive at the time; I didn’t know a thing about downworlder politics or that there was anywhere I couldn’t go, I was so high on the idea that the world was open that I never realised that some places are off limits,” Roman told her, remembering the couple in question with a fond quirk of his lips. “By stroke of luck they seemed to understand I’d no clue what the deal was and let me by, and I did revisit them a few times over the years to ask questions or just see their kids.”

He liked kids. Big gaggles of them throwing stones, playing hop scotch... Reminded him of his old Human family.

“I watched them grow older with each visit, watched their kids grow up and have kids of their own,” he patted her shoulder. “Not to sound like a sociopath or anything, but it was nice. It was nice to see their life pass from the moment I met them to when they weren’t there no more; they got to have these whole, long lives going through stuff a lot of people don’t get to.

It ain’t grand seeing people you know age and die. But immortal or mortal, you’ll see it happen and grieve, and you’ll get the time to grieve too; can’t say for what your mum thinks, but to me death ain’t a bad thing. There’s no such thing as immortal, not really, even the oldest fuckers around gonna pass sometime...

As the blonde on the stage twirled around the pole, winking at him, Jace chuckled, before looking back at Roman, seeing that he’d been watching her as well. It wasn’t as though he was falling head over heels, at the end of the day, he was just looking for some fun, and so was she - it was harmless in his eyes. 

“Well I’m not one you can scandalise.” He snorted, picking up his drink and turning his attention to the vampire. “Yep, 110% straight, sorry to disappoint. But I don’t mind the company, so I can slip a few dollars just for that.” He grabbed some notes from his pocket, sliding them across the table. “I heard about the attacks that happened here… Everything alright now?”

.

“You’ll pay me just to hang out? Alright, I’m down.”

Roman collected the tip with a pleased air about him. It wasn’t often that people paid him to do absolutely nothing; in fact, he didn’t think it had ever happened before. Wonderful.

He folded up the notes and tucked them away in a hidden pocket in his outfit for the night, and settled himself in for what was going to essentially be a paid mid-break. 

At the question though, Roman rolled his eyes. Too good to be true.

“Yeah, we got hit bad. I wasn’t here but a few of their friends cornered me and managed to get the jump,” he winced at the memory of sensing Stiles in danger. “some warlock friend of Pete’s- my boss- came and fixed the place up. As you can see, we’re all back up and running, no lasting damage.”

Except there was lasting damage. Everyone was paranoid about a second attack and one girl had quit.

“One of your lot actually told me he was gonna ‘do his best’ to make sure it never happens again, or whatever.” Sure.

In that moment, Peter didn’t think how his upcoming actions would affect him. He didn’t care for consequences—topics he was still struggling with in his rehabilitation, so to speak. He didn’t question if it would affect his relationship with his daughter. Later on, after the deed was done, he would ponder on it… Then again, what has been done, can’t be undone.

Roman’s agreement was refreshing, although Peter had a better system of getting rid of dead bodies, so he’d have to break up that promise to put the attackers six feet under. Since the attack by wendigos and vampires, the price of human flesh in the black market had tripled due to the heat placed on wendigos and their ever growing—and righteous—paranoia. Hunting was no longer a possibility so it seemed. 

The vampire’s questions pulled the werewolf from his thoughts, claw shifting back to nail as he reached in one of his desk’s drawers. “I do. The ones who were apprehended, I marked with an x.” Pulling a large parcel, he handed it to Roman. “Most of them already made bail, but we still aren’t going to touch them. They haven’t cooperated with law enforcement, so… you and I are the only ones with this information.” Four had been arrested, each claiming to be working alone even when most were family members or close friends according to records. Yet Nashuja had handed him twenty names and addresses. A look into local records, and the werewolf had put up the files Roman now held in his hand. Perhaps it was twisted, but the werewolf enjoyed knowing exactly who he was killing. Where was the satisfaction elsewhere, right? Peter looked up to meet the vampire’s gaze. “The ones with a court case, we’ll deal with them later. I will keep an eye on their legal status as their cases proceed. The others… The others, we hunt.”

.

Like a kid ripping into a bag of sweets, Roman eagerly opened up the parcel given to him and scoured through the information within. 

Reading through them, Roman noticed the familial connections between how many there were, and despite not wanting to get involved too heavily into investigative matters; he couldn’t help but notice something-

“Hunters are usually family affairs,” he said under his breath, flipping through to the next set of pages. 

He frowned.

“Why not?” Roman curbed his questions, and waited for Peter’s explanation. “Oh, I guess I get that. But we’re going to take them out afterwards right? Whatever the outcome of their cases are.”

A giddy feeling came over him at the thought of hunting them as they had hunted his home and friends.

He tapped his finger to one of the names.

“I know this fella, seen him around town; he’s even been a customer of mine before,” Roman’s teeth were out. “Can we drop him a visit first?”

In the back of his mind, Roman figured he ought to tell Peter about the Shadowhunter he’d spoken to making promises to help. But given it was a Shadowhunter, Roman doubted the legitimacy of it all and neither would Peter, so the idea was quickly drowned out by the rich feeling knowing he was going to hurt this old customer of his.

outside of roman's upbringing in the slums, the only thing about him that roman's sire hated was his teeth

his sire considered his gap front teeth and crooked bottom row to be "unsightly" and forbade roman from smiling in a way that showed them. roman's maker often complained that it was a "shame vampirism didn't realign them".

(reality is, there's nothing wrong with crooked teeth, so there was nothing to cure during transformation)

.

Kira pulled out her phone as he explained, googling as he spoke, before humming to herself. “So… it was first published in December of 1860, so… let’s make your birthday December 1st. So we know when to celebrate it.” She smiled, encouragingly.

She frowned as he talked about his sire, hugging herself once he let go of her hand, biting her lip. She wanted to push, to ask more about his sire, but it felt too prying. She didn’t want to bring up bad memories for the other, it wasn’t fair for her to.

“You were locked in a box?” She frowned, shaking her head. “I’m sorry… You deserve better than all that.” In a quick movement she hugged the other, lightly. “But you have Stiles now! And the pack! So either way, we’re not going to let you be on your own. And…. that means I’m gonna be around to bug you. Even if.. yknow… the others aren’t one day.” Her shoulders slumped, and she looked down. “Sorry. I was trying to cheer you up, not bring us both down.”

.

The vampire hummed as he thought about the date. He’d never really cared much for when his birthday was, didn’t figure how it mattered much, but it seemed to mean a lot more to people in more modern times.

He nodded, smiling. “Nice. December 1st this year shall be my 160th birthday- roughly.”

Roman hadn’t realised he’d let it slip one of the ways his sire had kept Roman to himself. But then, he was prone to casually mentioning things other people found horrific or devastating, in his flippant tone.

“Ah, it was a while ago now. I kept trying to run off ya see, so I guess in his head it was a logical choice,” Roman tried to imagine doing the same to Stiles, and felt a violent lurch of nausea. The idea of hurting his progeny made his skin crawl. 

He frowned.

“Pack? Oh no, no wait, no. That’s not a thing,” he shook his head, laughing a little. “I’m all fine with being your friend once the mortals have all moved on and all that, you, me and our boy, Stiles. But I’m not in no pack, love, I’m not even in a clan.”

Joshua may disagree, but Olivia would vehemently agree and that, sorry Joshua, meant more.

“Well, when you’re down you just gotta laugh and get back up. The way I see things; tomorrow’ll come no matter what you do, as low as you feel now, give it time and you’ll be grand all over again. Nothin’s the end of the world really.”

“The real question is: are both attacks connected? It could mean they’re more organized than we believe,” the werewolf noted, although the more beastial part of him pointed out how none of it mattered: he wanted blood. Eye for an eye might make the whole world blind, and Peter Hale was definitely the type to poke out his own to hinder someone else. Yet, they had to go about it smart since the unveiling had shone an inconvenient light on the supernatural. 

At Roman’s question of buddying up, Peter would’ve normally made a joke of poor taste that tested the vampire’s patience—the one person whose skin he had yet to manage to get under… The numbing wrath within did not allow him to proceed as he usually would. “I was thinking you’d go with me,” he answered the vampire’s inquiry coldly. 

There was a pause in which Peter simply looked on over Roman as the other stared at the phone the werewolf had given him mere moments before. The tension, the anger… It matched Peter’s, fueling his overwhelming hunger for vengeance. 

At Roman’s words, Peter silently looked down at the desk between them, a nail elongating into a claw. Calmly, the werewolf carved a spiral onto the desk. “This would have to be between us,” he began lowly. “Then again, whats another secret between us?” he questioned, narrowing his gaze as it returned to the vampire. After all, Roman had long been keeping secrets with Peter… “It’ll also have to be smart… But I don’t want them dead. Let’s bring them back alive.” His eyes shifted to blue, his controlled rage on the verge of bursting. 

He had something more appropriate in mind…

.

Where their interest and minds differed was there; Peter wanted to delve deeper into the causes, and perhaps find correlations. He wanted a full investigation into some deeper conspiracy. 

Roman on the other hand, disliked the idea of playing Sherlock Holmes. He didn’t care whether the attacks were connected or if there was a deeper connection behind the scenes. All he wanted was to handle the people who’d dared attack his progeny, his home, and himself, and leave following the bread crumbs to someone else.

There was always more behind things than what seemed. There was always someone pulling the strings in the underground, like a sick puppeteer, and Roman had become cynical and numb to the idea of it. Whoever it was, the moment they fell, another would replace them. An endless cycle that he wanted nothing to do with.

“That sounds like a good plan to me,” buddying up with Peter meant they could get violent, dirty, and Roman didn’t have to worry himself over being stopped by someone else’s moral compass. 

Of everyone Roman knew, he could say for certain he knew Peter the best out of them all. The vampire rarely made lasting connections, before Peter and certainly before Stiles, his bubble was limited to Olivia and Joshua- and even then, he rarely saw them via mutual preference- as it was how he preferred to live his vampric life. He knew about Peter’s underground workings, his business partnership with Olivia, among other things, and knew there were still things Roman hadn’t had shared with him; all things Roman never breathed to other people, because in his mind it wasn’t worth mentioning, so there was no doubt this would go unsaid by the vampire.

The vampire put his hands up with a shrug.

“Alive sounds fun I guess. Keeps the supply running at least; so long as they do eventually end up six feet under,” he cracked his knuckles. “so, we have any leads on who the fuckers were? I’m in the mood for something fun.”

–

Alec noticed the flinch and it made his stomach turn. He knew that despite the steps forward they had already taken, it didn’t mean everything was suddenly turning for the better, but having that kind of a reaction aimed at him… stung. He didn’t let it show though, he couldn’t take this personally - besides, this wasn’t about him or his feelings on that matter. He did try to seem more approachable though and tried to at least not scowl.

“I’m going to look into it,” he replied. “I know it doesn’t mean much, especially since those attacks happened and we didn’t prevent them, but I’m going to look into it and take on more patrols to make sure everyone’s safe.” Add that to his long list of things he needed to take care of. “It definitely does not sound like a coincidence. Do you - or anyone else - need medical attention? I could ask my husband to send one of his friends to check on you. She’s a warlock healer and one of the best I know.” 

.

A Shadowhunter who did care, who’d have thought?

Roman admitted to himself that the man’s act seemed convincing, but he knew better. No one genuinely cared for those below when they were sitting pretty at the top, experience and history taught Roman that from the day he was born right up until that moment standing with Alec.

Still wary of the Shadowhunter, knowing somewhere in his clothing he would have hidden a weapon Roman wouldn’t be able to match, Roman nodded listening to the measures this guy planned to introduce.

“You do know a lot of us aren’t going to accept much help after this now? Sure, I’m down for more patrols but it’s kinda hard to swallow that you lot would be there for us and not... you know, just there to watch us making sure we’re not going anything you don’t like. It’ll make a lot of people uneasy seeing so many Shadowhunters around,” he took a deep, unnecessary breath and braced himself. “I meant what kind of punishment are the hunters gonna get for it? The attacks were unprovoked and, um, racist? Speciesist? I don’t know, but you get me.”

Call him thirsty for revenge, Roman wanted the attacker’s heads on spikes so they could decorate outside the clubs, bars and hell, wherever a downworlder wanted. 

“I’m good enough now. Not sure about Olivia’s people, but two of my colleagues got badly hurt in the attack; and one of them was Human, ain’t that interesting. Almost as if it ain’t entirely about us, but really an excuse for them to hurt people and feel powerful.”

While Jace frequented bars and clubs back in New York, he’d never been one for strip clubs. But the oddness of having a place like this in such a small town made him curious enough that he’d come by a few times, and while he didn’t leave with many numbers - yet, at least - he did find allure in being able to look but not touch. A pretty blonde he’d got speaking to a few nights before had told him her schedule, when she’d next be working the pole, so he’d headed down, grabbing a drink before taking a seat to watch.

Seeing a guy heading over, he snorted at the nickname, raising his eyebrows. “Well that’s a new one.” He said, shaking his head, keeping his eyes on the vampire. He seemed harmless though, so Jace certainly didn’t feel threatened. “I don’t think your boss’d have much of a business if people didn’t come to look. Plus, she invited me to come watch her tonight.” But he laughed as he was asked about Alicante, taking a sip of his drink. “You kidding? I love the place, but it’s all business and no fun. This type of place’d have them clutching their pearls.”

.

He hummed in agreement.

“I’ll take that as a good time then?” Roman settled down with this stranger, interested to see whether this guy was going to make all the rookie mistakes or not. 

Roman looked to the dancer Jace meant and suddenly had a pretty clear idea of this man’s type. He refrained from telling the Shadowhunter that invitations to watch dancing usually didn’t mean much, it was more of a marketing ploy than anything, but with the woman Jace was here for Roman wouldn’t dismiss the idea that she was genuinely interested in him.

The Shadowhunter had a vibe to him, not so much Roman’s thing, but if he squinted he could see the appeal. Maybe.

“We live to scandalise here, especially if it’s Shadowhunter shits,” the vampire chuckled. “you’re straight aren’t you? You seem it. No chance I could squeeze in a dance and a few dollars, then?”

Regardless, Roman could at least enjoy a good conversation.