w i n t e r s a l p h a

Lana tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and she bend her while she bit her lip to try to hide her smile a little. “And I actually thought that they would call me or send me an e-mail or something, but the hospital actually sent me a letter to tell me that I got the job and that I can start my study to become a nurse without having to leave Arcadia and I couldn’t be happier.” She shook her head and she folded the letter, carefully putting it away. “It seems a little unfashioned, but now I could open it on this bench in the park when I was as ready for it as possible, just in case this letter had been bad news.”

the words fall into the air in somewhat of a flutter.  an entire stream of them.  and vincent has to stop himself from visibly wincing at the ‘chirpy’ attitude.  as it is, he manages to maintain something of a curiously interested look.  possibly even pleased as that -- good news -- is broadcast in all of it’s detailed splendour.  and true to form as he is, there’s a nod, a smile that graces the alpha’s lips -- 

“well, in that case, please allow me to be the first to congratulate you.”

if someone had to prepare themselves just to open a letter, he wonders what manner of fragile constitution she might be made of.

“That depends on what they do.”

It wasn’t only a specific species he saw as lesser than him. Actually, it was almost the entire world that was even fit to stand in his shadow.

“Although I would classify anyone foolish enough to go after me among them.”

A few people in town had learned that lesson already. Some computer wizz kid, Sutton, that foolish Amber girl… although she still had to get what she deserved. Which would happen, soon enough, if he could find a witch to cooperate.

“Trust me, mate. I’ve walked around in this town for a few years now. Even that return of investment is not going to happen with most of them.”

Erik? Maybe. Nicolas… most definitely, if the other vampire wasn’t out to kill him, that was. Gabriel? Worth keeping as a friend. He didn’t alienate everyone immediately. Just the worthless ones.

“Some return on the long term. Some… well, matters I’d rather not discuss with someone I hardly know.”

Then again, aside from a witch or two, no one knew of those plans yet. Some would suspect he was up to something. After all, after what he had done to Sutton, it wasn’t exactly necessary to hide his true colours anymore. He was one of the bad guys, and all those associated with the doctor would know that by now. 

“Let me assure you I do have my reasons for what I do.”

perhaps this conversation might have been different, led somewhere with a little more potential --  if there had been even a sliver of something... more... -- but... it seemed to be more of a thinly veiled crypticism.  shame... and he wonders if the other even realises that he’s a bit of a self-fulfilling prophecy.  no return on lack of investment.  

“well, i wish you all the best with those... plans--”

he just shrugs.  tips the rest of his drink into his mouth and pushes the empty glass slowly across the table.

“--and whatever - future investments - you happen to make for... whatever reasons.”

vincent just offers one of those quick and dazzling smiles - a flash as he stands, a notion of excusing himself from the conversation - and in so far as the alpha has cultivated a particular persona for the residents of arcadia - even he could grow weary of constantly delivering inert verbal platitudes.

then again - vincent takes note of the caution.  at least he doesn’t flap his jaw like some others in this town.  has a modicum of... discretion about him.  perhaps, if they met again, there might be more of a revelation.  perhaps not.

“likewise - i don’t take assurances from someone i hardly know.”

He shrugged.

“I’ll start doing my part when they bother me. Which was the case when we first met, but now? I think at least some of them learned their lesson.”

No, the hunters didn’t know what he and Erik had done to a few of their comrades, but they weren’t stupid. Well, not all of them, at least. Some knew it was better to leave someone like him alone and as long as they focused on werewolves or on vampires he could live without, he’d let them. The moment they entered his territory again… well, they’d know.

“I know. Which might be amusing to watch as well. I like to let the… lesser creatures solve their problems among themselves.”

No need for him to interfere. Although Vincent made an interesting point. It was something he had used in the past, but he didn’t see much use for it with most people here in town.

“I know. And I have done it from time to time. Although the majority of this town is not worth that investment. It should have a return, after all.”

And sometimes, in a very rare case, he’d help someone without that incentive. It was how things between him and Lexi had started to shift, even when he hadn’t known it back then. It was what he was trying to do with Lydia, until he could determine what her worth was.

“I’m known to prepare what I plan, mate. If I’m up to something, you can be bloody sure there’s nothing there to disturb it. And if someone would dare to try despite all my preparation, they will meet an untimely end.”

“and just... what... would you consider to be a -- ‘lesser creature’?”

oh, that thread of arrogance wasn’t so much a slender piece of cotton, but rather more of a steel rope, layer upon layer twisting into something more like a cable -  this man really couldn’t scream ‘bad guy’ more if he tried.  pity.  if one really did have ‘plans’ then it was best served to see those through - before - playing the antagonist.  it’s just a lot of the same - the same words as he’s heard from others of his kind.  

“and wall street was founded at the foot of a buttonwood tree.  sometimes even the smallest gestures prove to yield the greatest results.”

in so far as vincent personally thinks that humans are rather pointless, weak, sorry little creatures, unaware of the true face of strength and power.  he also realises that they can have their uses - from time to time.  and vampires -- well, they tend to be... all talk and murder and very little finesse.  probably what the vampire would think of his own species - given the wolves currently resident in this town.  visionless... fighting pointless little battles... short-sighted... unable to see that... bigger picture.  

Lana sat on a bench in the park with the unopened envelope with the symbol of the hospital in her trembling hands. She knew that she had to open it at some point and she also knew she would probably have to do it soon so she could actually get started if she happened to be accepted. With one smooth movement she ripped the envelope open and then her eyes started to read the words that had been typed on the formal paper. “O my…” She stopped breathing for a moment and her hands started to shake even more. “I got it! I really got it!”

that sounded far too -- chirpy -- to be a notification of bad news.  the letter clutched in the young womans hands was perhaps, not a notification of a recent demise ( unless said demise involved a person who had left a gratuitous inheritance in their will ), or something equally morbid - but he’s probably safe in the assumption that whatever it is, is... good news.

“now, that’s something i don’t see much of these days --”

a pause in his path as he turns his head slightly to look at the other, just after the exclamation...

“--the letter.”

he goes on to explain further.

Vincent remained unflinching at the idea of a vampire existing at all, even less, one feeding to its heart’s content just a ways away from him. It was her only tell that the man was more than human. Of course, there was a rare chance that he was simply aware, but Bellamy found it unlikely. Back in her old town, factions made sure not to let one too many civilians learn about the supernatural world, for the sake of containing that  c h a o s . With the amount of shadow creatures Arcadia has been rumored to bring in, she wondered how useless that order was here. 

Bellamy didn’t doubt how careless she must have looked, turning her back to a vampire, whether or not he was walking away, was a reckless choice for anyone. And, despite what little happiness she had left to lose, Bellamy had learned early on how to manage the ones who burned in the sun. She’d only ever been bitten once. It wasn’t for lack of trying. 

“I’ve dealt with them before. Feels like a formula, after awhile.”

how very... contrite.  and assumptive. 

vampires did have a habit of alluding to various stereotypical elements of their species ( more so than wolves or other supernatural )... generically formulaic they were not.  and perhaps, if she sticks to the same -- formula -- she might be in for a rather, visceral re-education - at some point.

“dealt with them?”

quite the aggressive way of framing what had been a simple conversation.  as though it was some kind of troublesome matter - after all, from what he had witnessed, it was she who’d stepped into the vampires space, she who had decided to take it upon herself to impose and interfere with him... not the other way around.

“that does make them sound rather like a ‘problem’ than a person, hm?”

She flinched when he called her  f r i e n d , inevitably feeling the guilt that came from that title. ‘Friend’, meant that she should’ve been there… ‘Friend’ meant that she should’ve done more. “I… Wanted to be her friend. I don’t know that we ever got there.” But this wasn’t about her, and she was quick to continue. “But yeah… She was young. Still in her teens.” Somehow, it was easier to speak with a virtual stranger about Talia, than it was to someone who’d known her well enough to feel that loss, and to respond with the emotional dismay she was desperately trying to keep at bay. 

Tatiana looked down when he rightly guessed that the cause was supernatural. “So I’ve-… Been told. I didn’t get the chance to see the body myself.” She turned over Vincent’s courteous offer in her mind, and felt a second stab of guilt in dragging him into such a grim event. But as a supernatural being himself, maybe he had experience of his own kind with respect to the injuries that could be sustained - or inflicted by a werewolf. “Would you… Mind? I actually came to discern the cause of death. The report was… Really vague.” Then again, Zachary had probably seen to it that the report had been taken out of the hands of any non-supernatural official, just in case. She hadn’t been able to reach Zachary for his take on the report since he’d first delivered the news of Talia’s death though.

“i think that if you -- wanted to be -- then that probably makes you so by default.”

he’s very good at offering the gratuitous, at placation, at the things that people often needed to ( whether they wanted to or not ) hear.  after all, it’s part and parcel of that keenly cultivated ‘image’... and often manages to say it in a way that sounds more like a mild suggestion, an offering, rather than an imposition.  little seeds... 

“the lack of time to see that - flourish, isn’t your fault.  a genuine desire for friendship... a feeling of loss... a concern and caring... says an awful lot more than a label ever does.”

...little seeds.

cause of death?  how -- delightfully morbid.  vincent being quite the connoisseur of cause of death.  or just ‘actual’ cause of death.  then again, he’s intrigued - is this a vampire kill?  a wolf? ( though the one’s he’s met so far don’t exactly seem to have the wit or the stomach for killing - and there’s an internal ‘sigh’ at that thought ) - or maybe something else... 

“troubling - but then i have heard that the town has been experiencing a few... problems, as of late.”

not to mention the rather entertaining public murders at the carnival -- damn, now he wants a slushie.  however, he does manage to knit brow in a look of moderate concern, as though the news is indeed... troubling ( it’s not, the more chaos that they raged and rained between them, the less attention they’d be paying... they wouldn’t see HIM coming... ).

“though i have witnessed on more than one occasion a - vague - public statement when the inexplicable, or supposedly ‘impossible’ is to blame.  which often leads one of a more intimate knowledge of - reality - to suspect that it’s nothing easily explainable by... and please, forgive the phrase - ‘human terms’.”

there’s only a small shake of his head, the slightest smile of encouragement and he gestures that she should lead the way --

Amanda genuinely doesn’t feel like Vincent is one of the bad ones at all. His manners have been impeccable throughout the time she has spent with him. He has offered far more patience than most would have if she would have intruded on them. Then of course, there’s the fact she really has enjoyed his company so far and it really makes a change from some of those she has encountered in Arcadia.

“I couldn’t agree more…and hopefully I will be able to explore the town more soon when I take a few days off work. I am due some time off.”

Though not all of her time would be taken on the leisurely side of things. She has plans to execute, so she won’t have to spend the rest of her life working for a boss she can’t stand to work for. 

“Well I think you are being more than gracious with that, but yes, I am enjoying reading it…mainly before bed, but sometimes after work.” It probably sounds boring to some, but some days Amanda just comes home from work, showers and changes, then curls up on the couch with the book. It’s not like she doesn’t enjoy getting out there and having some fun as well–but not every single evening.

Letting a small smirk appear on her face, she looks at him. “Ah, Vincent…what makes you think something is holding me back?…maybe I was just speaking metaphorically…..”

Her gaze remains on him and she pauses for a moment before speaking. There’s at least a couple of things holding her back, but not everything she is willing to speak about yet. 

“But yes…one thing maybe…I have a few plans laid out, which means at some point in the future I will be my own boss instead of anyone being in charge of me….and that in itself is a fine place to find myself.”

“all work and no play...”

a small grin as she notes the need for time off.  there generally wasn’t a time when vincent wasn’t ‘working’ though his line of work was rather more -- personal -- than it was a dreary means to an end.  it was far more fun just to -- take -- what he wanted.  

“well then, i do hope that you manage to take, what sounds to be - a well deserved break.  they do say that a change is as good as a rest... so change, or rest.”

he does turn slightly, looks once more at the young woman.  only the slightest arch of brow.  he wonders if perhaps any of the stories she reads manage to make the way into her nocturnal wandering.  into the visions or images that she might glimpse in that semi-slumbering state.

“fewer take the time to - read - these days.  and perhaps that makes me sound a little archaic, preferring leather bound tomes and the crackle of pages to a... console or a device with social statuses and a constant stream of ‘media’.  a lost art... or perhaps, a lesser one - but personally... i find it better to wake the imagination when you let the words take you to a place that no CGI could ever accomplish.”

besides - if he wants a little slice of ‘call of duty’ he simply has to venture outside of his door and make it happen.  with less guns.  more screaming.  and a death count and gore rating that would make the NC-17 censors quake in their boots.

“then forgive the question -- if there isn’t anything holding you back, then you are lucky -- a free spirit isn’t something that one encounters all too often.  then again -- i forget, that the sandwoman is, after all... a myth.”

“ah - the independent woman.  an honourable pursuit.  i wish you all the success with your plans.  i have to admit - i’ve never really been one to - work for others.”

he pauses outside of the bar - slightly more exclusive than some of the spit and sawdust places that arcadia seemed to revel in.  and he does move to open the door for her, stepping back, gesturing for her to move inside.

An unreadable expression stayed on her features. Vincent’s smile, charming as it may be, wasn’t granted anything in return, but a faint curiosity. Wallflowers didn’t usually beckon the ones they’d been observing with a well-meaning gesture. The possibility that the man up ahead was one who lived life like a spectator sport was a bit of a reach, if his size and posture said anything about him. 

Still – Nothing was impossible. He could have any kind of personality, be a fool or a king. Well, that was a bad analogy. Most kings were fools. He could be…Well, she’d never fill in the blanks standing from this distance.

Opting to play the yes-man for as long as she remained foreign to Arcadia’s ways, Bellamy made her way to the bench and settled on the opposite corner with a cross of her legs.

“How much did you overhear?” she asked, comfortable with being forward.

overhear?  it wasn’t as though he was purposefully eavesdropping.  couldn’t exactly help that the magnitude of sound during their conversation was something he was quite acutely attuned to.  either way, he hadn’t exactly made it a secret that he was there...  

“enough.”

a simple enough answer.  he’d heard pretty much every word, other than where perhaps a car had passed on the street with an engine blurring some of the terms.  and perhaps it’s enough that he wasn’t raging like some kind of crazy person about the topic of their discussion which might give just a little something away.

“though you didn’t seem particularly concerned that you might become the subject of sating that -- appetite.”

He nodded.

“You could say that. I like a good game.”

And it wasn’t like he had better things to focus on, like an ancient old grudge or a spell where he needed a witch for. Those things weren’t out of his mind, but due to all kinds of circumstances, they couldn’t be his first priority.

“With the numbers coming in to town these days they start to change from an entertaining pastime to a nuisance. A plague that needs to be exterminated.”

Then he shrugged.

“But that is hardly my responsibility. I can handle them. Some others around here less so.”

That would include more than one wolf, who still thought the world wasn’t such a bad place, and a few newbie vampires. There was only one of them he wished to save that fate. Until now he had managed.

Then he smirked, at the careful attempt to find out what he was up to.

“Well, what can you say… Nothing to spectaculair at the moment, I have to admit.”

He wasn’t going to divulge his plans to acquire the powers of a wolf to another wolf. They didn’t need to know what would be coming for them. They’d notice.

“But you never know what will happen in the future.”

funnily enough -- the alpha isn’t known to ‘play well with others’.  at least, in so far as it brought him no advantage.  and he hasn’t quite decided - yet - whether there’s anything to this vampire that might yield desirable results.  so he’s happy to be that -- null event.  something which is simply, present.

“then if it’s not your responsibility, and they fail to ‘handle them’ - that’s rather bad luck on their part.”

and something interesting for the alpha.  it’s quite the ingratiating manoeuvre to play with ‘unsuspecting hero’ to someone’s tragic situation.  to have them feel a sense of indebtedness.  quite the handy lever.  so on this -- he does decide to voice something, even if it’s just a thought...

“though i do find that the -- defenceless and the unprepared can sometimes be quite gracious in their gratitude when they are... assisted.  and educated - by someone more capable.”

“well then with no distraction and a plentiful influx, i’d say that you won’t go wanting for ‘entertainment’ at any point -- be it in the future or now.”

he does take a small sip from his drink, runs a tongue across his lips to catch the lingering taste of the liquid - keeps watching the cattle that mill around in the bar, rather unaware of the potential lethality that sits within their midst.

   Once the vampire across from her retreated in a huff, Bellamy averted her gaze. She did wonder if she should put a stop to his second attempt at bleeding someone dry for dinner. Was it her responsibility anymore? The question answered itself, from a decisiveness come alive in the front-lines of her mind long ago. She didn’t know the rules in Arcadia. Banter with a hungry vampire should be nothing more, until she understood better what kind of order the small town had. Or until she needed something from him. Stepping over to where Erik had nearly begun his meal, Bellamy studied the leaves on the ground. 

  “Skye, are you serious?” The fit of giggles from her younger sister were an airstrike to her scowl. Bellamy nearly stopped looking annoyed as she watched the pile of orange and red leaves cave in on itself like an undercooked cake, under the weight of the only other Hall daughter. 

“Come on, you’ve been using that rake for hours. Don’t act like you didn’t want to do it.”        Skye’s eyes glimmered brightly under the fuzzy hood of her winter jacket, while Bellamy’s narrowed. 

  “You stand on the edge of a cliff, and think of jumping off, but you don’t do it. It’s called responsibility.” she sassed. Too bad it didn’t slow Skye down. Nothing ever did when fall came around. 

                                          “It’s leaves. Not a giant pit of death.” 

    “It’s a chore you’re going to finish for me now.” Bell fired back, holding the rake out for the child who was no longer smiling. For a moment she wondered if Skye would complain or whine, the pout on her features at least reaching second-degree hazard. But then the youngest shot Bellamy a tight-lipped smiled, and held her hand out. “Fine. Help me up. I’ll do it.” 

Sure, she would. The minute Bellamy’s hand moved to pluck Skye from her earth-chic throne, she was hauled away from the instrument she’d been using to clean it all up in the first place and thrown right into the soft heap. Almost as quickly as she had fallen, Skye sent scooped up leaves raining over her, a grin on her like she’d slept with a coat hanger in her mouth.

The scattered leaves bellow her now, looked nothing like they did in her memory. Snapping back into the quieter spring, Bellamy looked up and scanned her surroundings, her eyes lingering on a lone man not far.

interesting.  insult a vampire and then spend a moment daydreaming.  perhaps the word he was looking for wasn’t -- interesting... but more -- foolish.  though whether the vampire chose to make her his next intended prey, and whether the woman herself might even be aware of that ( seemingly so, given their conversation ) - did rather lend itself to an assumption, tentative in it’s formation - that this ‘human’ might be something more than just another vapid slab of meat trolling the streets of this small town.

however - he’s not exactly -- lingering -- he’s seated, quite comfortably, on a public bench.  and he will never be surprised at the displays of quite public revelation that he’s witnessed here so far.  it wasn’t as though the supernatural was much of a closely guarded secret in arcadia.  dead bodies - exsanguinated corpses, shredded flesh, all manner of gruesome deaths littering every other street corner.  not to mention those other overtly public displays of... airing dirty laundry... that he’s borne witness to.  the dead rather did outnumber the living here.  he’s surprised they still have room in their cemetery... let alone the morgue.  ( and he hasn’t even gotten started yet... ).

however - as she seems to regain some manner of - presence - back from whatever little daydream might have caught her imagination, and notices him... vincent - ever the gentleman, simply offers a kindly nod, a flicker of that suavely charming smile - and indicates with a small gesture of his hand, that she might join him on that wide, wooden bench -- if she so wished.

“Mysterious, yes. That’s what one calls it when it’s hard to figure out the person they’re dealing with.”

The other guy might find that funny, but it’s the idea Jacob got from the man. Closed off. Not wanting to disclose any information. Keeping a smoke screen safely in place.

“I haven’t figured out yet if it’s unique or merely hard to understand. Those are two completely different things, after all.”

He chuckled.

“Being one of the sheep is never a good sign. Although if we’re talking about sheep or wolves… you’re fairly easy to put into one of those boxes.”

The man smelled of wolf, after all. And seeing that Jacob had never seen him with someone else, he was assuming he was or a lone wolf, or an alpha with his own agenda. Neither of them very intimidating to him, though.

He shrugged. The time that he would become truly afraid for hunters still had to come. That particular hunter probably still had to be born, if he or she would ever come.

“Those who want to try? Let them come. I’ve killed enough of them to show them they do have a problem if they come after me. If they are still trying, that only says something about their intelligence. And they are far easier to kill then cockroaches. More amusing as well, I have to say.”

The two that had died at the hands of Erik and himself had known that they had made a grave mistake at the end. It was almost a pity they hadn’t been able to pass on that message.

“I’ve passed that point around… well… a few hundred years ago, I guess.”

His name was too well known in certain circles. No matter if he would keep a low profile, they would still search for him.

“And I don’t mind. If they come at the right time, they are a bloody entertaining pastime. If I’m not distracted by anything else.”

Or if they went for someone he cared about instead of him.

“and, you’re trying to -- figure me out...”

how very... droll.  the longer he sits here, the more those little snippets flow - inert perhaps to the one speaking, but quite entertaining, and more than a little revealing to the wolf.  he wonders, does that ‘not knowing’ delve a little deeper than the superficial.  more than simply being ‘up on the gossip’ of a small town.  something to do with a spinning lack of control - and that is quite a delightful thought -- and perhaps he’d wish him luck in those endeavours - a few had tried to ‘figure him out’ before - and failed.  quite spectacularly.  mostly running on assumption or rumour or just plain and simple previous experience with those of his kind.  vincent tends - not - to adhere to those rather contrite stereotypes - how can you discern the true colour of a chameleon?  however, the vampire doesn’t fall far short of his own stereotype.  arrogance, over confidence, a braggart nature.  

that, and contradictory - saying one thing and changing his mind as it suited him only moments later.  how terribly... fickle.

I’m not some kind of bloody hunter cleaning team.

turns sharply into --

And I don’t mind. [ -- ]  they are a bloody entertaining pastime. 

he really could care less.  if the hunters were focussed on the vampire and his ‘dastardly infamous deeds’ - all the better for vincent to go about his own business undisturbed - unperturbed.  and if they thinned either the fanged population, or the human as they went about their pithy tete-a-tete of slaughter - then so much the better.

so let him put vincent into a ‘box’ - wolves and sheep was rather more rhetorical than literal - and there’s a small ‘tchh’ within his own mind at how the other takes the aspect of his words.  perhaps the vampire himself might be on the receiving end of his own surprise when he finds that that box doesn’t really apply.  that he doesn’t fit the mould of whatever shape he might be assumed to fit into.  however, that’s not the alpha’s problem.

“well, with the numbers visiting this town, with seemingly increasing frequency, i don’t think that you’ll be -- short -- of entertaining pass-times for some time to come.”

She felt a stab of guilt upon recognizing the courteous newcomer and winced visibly as she turned to face him. “Mr. Kell-… Vincent… I’m sorry, it- uhm… It’s not you, it’s…” She trailed off, the combination of grief and tempered rage tying her tongue even more than usual when it came to unexpected encounters. The young doctor studied the pavement for a few seconds, sticking a loose, lifeless strand of hair behind one ear until his significantly smoother words registered. “Someone I know just passed a-…  K i l l e d ; she was killed, actually. A fri-…” She paused just short of the label, unsure of whether she could claim it. For the longest time, Rose had stood between herself and Talia; vengeful, distrustful - alienating herself and her lackey from any who wished to call either one ‘friend’. And when Rose no longer had that same choke-hold over her young charge, time had robbed them from that possibility. “A young acquaintance…” The witch settled ruefully.

he waits.  expectantly patient as she searches for words.  that same stumble as another ‘sorry’ - that oft repeated apology ascends from her lips.  notices also the rather abrupt change of terms from ‘friend’ to ‘acquaintance’.  how terribly tragic - ( not the death, he really couldn’t care about that - it seemed that people died in this town with alarming frequency, which only proved to be a rather invaluable asset for the wolf, manufacturing his own intent to slaughter... ) - that she couldn’t settle on a simple word.  one which might - in it’s first incarnation, have explained the tautness of her stance, that flash of unsettled emotion in her eyes... the latter simply a name you give to someone you might frequently pass on the street.

that look of moderate concern remains - lips pursing at the news, as though such a ‘tragedy’ bore some weight.  he wonders who it was.  what they might - or might not - have meant to the witch if she couldn’t even bring herself to define it.

“then - i’m sorry for your loss.  the death of any young person - especially a friend --”

he uses the word casually and it slips free as though he may not have noticed his own faux pas - though it’s uttered with attentive purpose on his part - not missing a beat before continuing - 

“--is quite tragic.  more so when that life isn’t simply... lost... but taken.”

and she talks so openly about murder ( it’s rather refreshing, most people cower from the thought, as though any admission or utterance might bring down the same fate ), so he draws a few conclusions from that - even so, it’s something that’s probably not inappropriate to clarify.

“i might ask if the police have any leads.  but something tells me that this is as beyond the influence of the ‘law’ as much as the - extra-curricular sabbatical - we discussed in your office.”

inference - that it was a ‘supernaturally’ connected death.  how very intriguing.  

“forgive me - i shouldn’t speculate.”

he’s not really.  either speculating, or sorry.  but as ever, it sounds wholly genuine.

“and you have matters to attend to.  if you would like to be left alone, i completely understand.  however -- if you would like - at least, a presence, then i would be --”

happy?  not exactly the correct term to offer the grieving... 

Bellamy slowed in step, her eyes falling on the person not far from her as they went about their day, clearly of the mind that they were alone. Silently, the witch watched them, reclining her hip against the sturdiest object beside her until she felt it fitting to make herself known. Clearing her throat, Bellamy interrupted. 

“Anyone ever teach you the art of subtlety?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest and fighting the urge to look too entertained as the other person whirled around to look at their witness. 

“Doing that out in the open, you must not be as smart as you look.”

apparently the young woman could do with a few lessons in the ‘art of subtlety’ herself.  vincent, however, had been more than content to watch the scene from a bench on the other side of the park -- unobtrusive, non-invasive.  simply - observant.  though with the acute hearing afforded to his species, he’s not altogether ‘absent’ from the proceedings.

and a contrite narration to the other individual about their actions was also -- not smart.  especially in this town, where one never really knew to whom - or more precisely - to what - one was speaking.

he wonders if she bears any heed to her own words, or whether it’s simply an opinionated, entitled drawl.  however, there’s only a small smirk as he waits for whatever it is to unfold.  it wasn’t every day that he was provided with such open amusement after all...

Was this guy serious? “Who talks like that?” he murmured jokingly, raising his brow. The guy sounded like he was from a different time. Adam studied him for a moment before shaking his head. He doubted the stranger was a vampire. Raising a brow, the man raised his shoulders. “Hey whatever you said, old boy.” And pocketed his hands and strolled by the guy and the door his gaze straying just the slightest. “Just try not to have too much fun, sure a heart like yours could take it.” He gave one more chuckle before going on his way. He glanced back just once more, his accommodating grin gone. He needed to get a lay on the town again. Might be fun to start with the prick from the Victorian age.

Originally posted by arthaemisia

“usually anyone with manners and a basic sense of decorum.”

really though - this - mutt - was really toying with the wrong person.  had vincent not got more important things to do within this town - one he was rather carefully cultivating the ‘right’ impression toward.  he would have ripped out this mangy strays throat with his teeth.  and he has to wonder what manner of alpha would manifest such sufferance to take in a fool like this.  one who clearly couldn’t see what was - to coin a lupine phrase - right under his nose.

the smile that he offers the other before he leaves is far too much - teeth - and not so much humour.  and in any other brain than the clearly limited one that inhabited the young mans skull, it was a clear threat.

He chuckled.

“There’ll always be assumptions, mate. And the more mysterious and closed off you act, the bigger those assumptions will become.”

People liked to make their own stories about the ones they met if they didn’t get that story, after all. It was only human. And even he, as a vampire, wasn’t above that human character trait. He smirked.

“Fine, you stay lonely in your own category then. The one who never speaks. Not about himself, at least.”

He shrugged.

“There are more ways to soothe my boredom, as you phrase it, than just having a drink.”

He liked to watch. See what people were up to. Watching this wolf was almost as amusing as it was frustrating. They had spoken before and still, Jacob knew nothing about him. Not where he belonged, not where he loyalties were, not what he wanted…

“I will, in due time. I’ve had my fun with a few of them and I reckon they know better than to bother me by now. I’m not some kind of bloody hunter cleaning team.”

“mysterious?”

now it’s vincent’s turn to smirk.  he’d never been put down as ‘mysterious’ before.  it’s an amusing thought.  and one which he’s content with... something to let play into the persona - at least until the time was right.

“a category all to myself - how delightful.  after all, isn’t it preferable to be - unique - rather than, and no species pun intended - one of the sheep?”

lonely?  no.  he’s anything but ‘lonely’.  that was rather a misconception, especially for an alpha.  for one who had a bond - a connection - with every other wolf in the pack.  not to mention the few burgeoning ‘friendships’ ( *ehum* ) that he’s cultivating with people in town.  as for the not speaking of himself, that’s true - to a point - however, there’s no question been asked of him yet - other than why he’s in a bar.  and that’s hardly delving into the deeply personal.

“prestige.  making a name for yourself -- a de facto “nemesis’, if you will -- among hunters just means the next one is more ambitious - keener still, to claim the prize -- seeking out the ‘prestige’.  said prize being your head, or otherwise dispatched corpse.  they’re like cockroaches.  they keep coming - in their waves - irritating infestations that are annoyingly difficult to -- s t a m p  o u t.”