(no subject)

[onceaviking]

 Night has fallen and Eric is at the Bar. 

Seated and slightly turned so he has a fair view of what is happening, he slowly sips his drink. Hoping that something better will turn up soon. Or at the very least, something to distract him.

His hair is unbound today and he is only wearing shirt, trousers, and boots. Not quite what a gentleman would make do with in public in his time, but far more comfortable and closer to what he would prefer to wear. So he is going to take advantage of Milliways and do just that.

Comments

[hadyougoing]

[ooc: want an ava by any chance? it's cool if no!]

[onceaviking]

(ooc: always! :))

\o/!!!

[hadyougoing]

Ava comes in from work, silvery headband in her hair but necklace absent from her neck.

When she catches sight of Eric, she thinks vaguely of the stakes and UV flashlight up in her room. (Sadly, all she has on her is a hand mirror.)

She should probably leave, but ... sigh ... she wants a drink. To the Bar it is!

She smells a little like vengeance and sulfur.

[onceaviking]

He smiles when he sees her.

"Buffy," he says."What a pleasure. As you will have noticed, I did in fact not come knocking on your window unannounced."

Of course, he doesn't know if she has a room here.

[hadyougoing]

... Oh, right, she's still Buffy.

Actually, that's probably a decent plan for the time being. If he finds out her real name, she might learn something about who he talks to around here.

Aside from Urquhart, that is.

"No," she agrees, pleasant.

She leaves a space between them as she comes to the counter.

"I hear you've been kinda busy, though. Bar, can I do a cocoa?"

[onceaviking]

"Really?" he says, still smiling.

So either she has been trying to check up on him, or people have been talking and she has overheard something.

Or both.

"I would say that depends on one's definition of busy."

[hadyougoing]

Ava's an industrious little bee.

Keeps things fun.

"Huh." She takes up her mug and blows to cool it. "What's your definition?"

[onceaviking]

"I would likely assume that it indicated a certain amount of business transactions or participation in society on my part," he answers, knowing full well that she isn't hinting at anything remotely like that.

[hadyougoing]

She smiles faintly, gaze slanting his way.

"For a given value of 'society,' maybe."

Hey, for all she knows, he's paying people for their blood. If he needs to drink it to live, that'd be the civilized thing to do, right?

[onceaviking]

"Ah, like that. Yes, I have come across several - people who were -favorably disposed towards my kind," he agrees. Getting a little distant-looking as he remembers the fairyæ

[hadyougoing]

"That must be nice," Ava says, with intense neutrality.

Sip. Sip.

[onceaviking]

"It certainly makes my own existence here easier," he says, disregarding her facial expression cheerfully. "And much more enjoyable."

[hadyougoing]

"Just how easy is it for you around here?"

[onceaviking]

He shrugs. "As we spoke of last, I have met several males here who have been interested. And sadly, no females. So far."

If she truly wants him to, he won't mind giving her a number.

[poins]

Surely, that man is not drinking blood, is he? Maybe a soup of beetroot or some such?

Ned Poins, for all his jaded, worldly-weary ways, doth stare.

[onceaviking]

Eric picks up on the stare. It'd be hard not to.

He catches the man's eyes and lifts one eyebrow. Just a fraction.

His eyes are bright blue. And his face is pale. Very pale.

[poins]

That cannot truly be -- it is a soup! For sooth!

Poins would not lower his gaze before the stranger, though, looking at him with quiet defiance.

[onceaviking]

Eric takes a sip of the slow-flowing liquid. Then he says, "Good evening."

His voice is pleasant, but his Scandinavian roots are betrayed by his accent.

[poins]

"Good even, sir," Poins says, cautiously polite. "I hope that wine is good?"

Soup, or what else it may be...

[onceaviking]

Eric considers his glass and its contents. "It is passable," he says. "For this sort of drink. Not what I would call good though. It would need to be fresher for that."

[poins]

"Fresher?" Ned asks. "It is not wine? A soup, then? What manner of a man drinks soup from such a vessel?"

He is, surely, no longer in Eastcheap.

[onceaviking]

"Not wine, nor soup, nor juice pressed from fruit or vegetable," Eric says, with a small smile. "And I am no man."

[poins]

"For sooth, sir, you're no woman!" Poins declares.

[onceaviking]

Eric smiles at this. Widely. "That," he agrees, "is true as well."



(ooc: bedtime for me - back tomorrow)

[poins]

"But then, what are you?" Poins asks, so worried he hardly notices how rude he is.