#sure ig

The vampire sits across the round table from him, linking his fingers and crossing his legs. There's an air of dignity to him which at least reveals a noble upbringing, if still one that obviously did not teach to keep one's fingers in their own business.

Not breaking the silence, Scott picks the cup up and takes a small sip. The blood is clean and warmed, though animal. Scott is slightly too hungery to discern what type, exactly, but he manages to keep his movements smooth as he sets the cup back down. Lips lightly wetted as he meets the vampire's eyes once more.

It goes on like that, silent and drawn out.

There is plenty to take in, and the silence only serves Scott. Gives him times to wake up from the stuttery magical sleep still sticking to him, to take in his surroundings, to collect his mind. While the vampire may be more patient, Scott is happy to gather whatever is given to him so easily like this. Utterly generous.

Just as Scott begins to think that enough time has passed that he can take another sip of the blood without appearing ravenous, a hand slaps down on the table.

Both Scott and the other vampire turn. The human sitting between them is squinting back.

"Who are you and what were you doing in Louis' basement?" The human demands.

Scott tilts his head slightly to the side, examining the human in earnest for the first time. The man is disheveled, which is frankly putting it politely. And Scott has no real urge to describe him politely, on account of how inadequate a sight it is.

The man's face is covered with unkempt and uncared for waves of hair, limp brown. Underneath which, the originally assumed impressive pallor of his skin is revealed to be thick swaths of bandages, wrapped around so much of his skin that it is hard to discern the quality of what lays beneath. Mottling peeks out, and paired with the thin body, poor posture, and appearance of bad health despite age, Scott assumes that he is sickly. Which is frankly an odd and embarrassing servant for this vampire to have, let alone considering that he is apparently not trained in decorum.

"Owen," The vampire scolds, setting his hand on the human's. Then, he pushes it off of the table with a soft smile. When he turns it to Scott, it is once more made brittler. "My Fledgling."

"Ah," Scott says, as it does explain quite a lot.

Though even more so, it sets judgment within Scott's mouth. Why would a vampire choose a human like this to take on as a Fledgling? It may be true that some Sires like them challenging and needy, but this is ridiculous.

Without as much worry, Scott takes another sip of the blood. Cow's.

"Do you posses a name and title likewise?" Scott asks, smiling.

"Mayor Louis of Oakhurst," The vampire says

"Mayor?" Scott asks, mildly surprised. He assumed the man was of higher peerage. "Shall the lord be making an appearance later?"

Louis smooths a smile across his face, pressing a hand to his chest.

"Oakhurst does not have a lord. We have had only a mayor for over a hundred years," Louis says.

"Ah," Scott says. Drier.

What have these stupid peasants done to his land while he slept?

"Quite in luck, I am the lord of Oakhurst myself, Lord Scott Goldsmith," Scott says.

"Hm," Louis says, a line appearing between his brows. "The Goldsmiths have not ruled Oakhurst is nearly four hundred years."

"My, that does seem about right for the amount of time I was sleeping," Scott says, pressing a palm to his cheek as though in thought.

"Does it?" Louis asks.

"Yes," Scott says.

"Hm," Louis says.

The staring and silence commences once more. It is even tenser now. And even more comfortable for Scott, as he battles himself to not smile truthfully. A mayor vampire, arguably not true nobility, who has a poorly trained and chosen fledgling and seemingly not much more.

Things could be much, much worse for Scott here after so much time. What luck.

"And why were you buried beneath Louis' house?" Owen repeats, earning eyes on him once more.

From how he shies down at them, one would think he doesn't like the attention. And yet, he opened his mouth once more.

"Vampire hunters staked me and placed me down there," Scott says simply.

"I see," Louis says, frowning and touching his chin.

"Yes, quite the vexing affair, truly. I should really see to those responsible. But, until then, retaking my rule of Oakhurst will suffice," Scott says.

"You—!"

"Owen, give us a private moment, will you not?" Louis dismisses. When it seems like Owen will argue, he adds: "Please."

Glaring at Scott all the way, Owen stands and stalks out of the room. He will not be going far, but it scarcely matters. It is not as though he poses any real threat.

"I must make it clear, Mister Goldsmith, that you shall not be retaking the rule of Oakhurst from me in any such forward manner. It is not just a case of power for me, but I care for my humans very deeply, and until I know that you are trustworthy of a similar cause, I can not allow it. The reputation of the Goldsmiths was not so kind," Louis says, genuinely appearing afflicted.

Scott tilts his head slightly. "And how shall you see to that?"

"Well, if you make push come about, I will have to kill you," Louis says, smiling gently. "I do not wish to see that fate for you. But I have a duty to my humans."

At the moment, Scott is certainly outclassed to the point that he shall be killed by the vampire before him if he tries. Four hundred years without blood, and injured at the start of that, Scott has been in far better shape. It may take years to return to his full state. And though Scott has some confidence that perhaps he could take on the vampire before him slightly weaker than his peak, in months or maybe weeks, it would be a challenge.

The other options are more complicated. Ways of politics. Gaining support, allies, there are surely still vampires in the world who owe Scott favors. Who owe him their immortal life. After four hundred years, likely not many. But some.

Though without that… There is always the mayor himself. He is an unknown entity, but he appears a bleeding heart of sorts.

Scott needs more information.

"And what of if I share your beliefs alongside my rightful claim to the lordship?" Scott asks politely.

"If that were to be the case, then I suppose there are more discussions to be had about the political structure of Oakhurst," Louis says carefully.

"Mayors so oft have lords," Scott says.

"That is true," Louis says, eyeing him. "As stated, power is not my motivator. Should the lord be someone I trust, I would not necessarily be opposed."

"I see," Scott says.

He sits back in his chair and drains his cup of blood. While he does it, he carefully examines the choices before him. Brute force, gaining allies, or working with Louis. In order of possible consequences: permanent death with failure, difficulty of being four hundred years out of the court, or being forced to kiss upon a lowly play-pretend mayor.

Well, Scott has kissed upon less beautiful men before.

Scott sets his empty cup down carefully.

"Then it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mayor Louis," Scott says, spreading a pretty smile across his lips.