(no subject)

[lazy_but_loyal]

Pam is getting restless.

She and Eric haven't gone back home in a while, but now she's feeling the itch, even if she's not looking forward to what awaits them. A giant pain in the ass, is what.

But she isn't leaving without Eric. When he says it's time to go, then they'll go together. She just hopes he's had enough time to come up with a plan. And it's not like she's been completely idle, she's been wracking her brain trying to think of something, too, but how to kill a 3,000 year old vampire isn't in her field of expertise.

So what else can you do but sit at a table with a laptop and compose a very long and detailed email to your personal shopper in Chicago about overhauling your entire wardrobe.

She's not very botherable and never really has been, ever. But she won't bite your face off. This time. Probably.

Comments

[athelstanthescribe]

Athelstan is around, with the usual table covered in paper - whether he's working on his illumination or on the more standardly written book, it's always with the paper.

He doesn't look like a monk any more.

[lazy_but_loyal]

Pam drums her manicured fingernails on the tabletop as she decides how many more website links she should include in her email. She's built up quite the bookmarks tab.

It's then that her attention wanders out of boredom, and so do her eyes. Which narrow with some curiosity when she sees someone who smells like the little monk but doesn't exactly look like the little monk the last time they met. But she's pretty sure that's him.

"So, are you a godless heathen now or what?"

[athelstanthescribe]

He glances up, and smiles slightly when he sees her.

"Probably my people would say so... but the Northmen are far from godless. Hello, Pam."

[lazy_but_loyal]

She leans back in her chair and crosses her arms, looking him up and down with a slow flick of her eyes. Her expression remains mostly unchanged except for a faintly raised eyebrow.

"Trying to blend in, huh?"

[athelstanthescribe]

"Successfully, I hope", he says with a nod, turning fully to face her. "Since it seems likely to be my home for the rest of my life."

[lazy_but_loyal]

"Well, you know what they say. When in Rome, do like the Romans do."

That's...probably not a saying in his time, but anyway.

"Don't you want to go back home?"

[athelstanthescribe]

He gets the gist, anyway, and shrugs to her question.

"My home was Lindisfarne and it burned", he says simply. "My brothers there were killed, my parents and siblings died long ago... I have little to go back for."

His tone is matter-of-fact. He's not telling her this out of any self-pity, just explaining the situation.

[never_lost_faith]

A red-headed woman in 18th century dress stops by Pam's table and peers at the screen, attention briefly if impolitely caught by the written word moving upon it as if by magic.

[lazy_but_loyal]

Pam is typing away about the current line of Louis Vuitton handbags when the woman decides to hover. Irritated, her fingers pause, and she looks up at her-- and then she switches attitude almost immediately.

"Can I help you?" she says in her most pleasant Southern drawl.

The woman smells nice. If a bit like herbs and earth.

[never_lost_faith]

"How does that happen?" she asks. "The appearing of words upon that surface?"

[lazy_but_loyal]

...

Pam stares at her for a little bit.

"Well, it's a computer, so basically...electricity?"

She types her name out.

My name is Pam. What's yours?

And she smirks up at her. Pleasantly.

[never_lost_faith]

"You hit the letters on that table, and they appear on the -- computer, you say?" the woman says. "Like instant type-setting? How very useful!"

[lazy_but_loyal]

"Instant type-setting is a good way to put it. Whatever you see on the screen, you can also print it out on paper."

Pam remembers when personal computers first came out, but she didn't find them quite as fascinating.

"When are you from?"

[onceaviking]

Late in the night, Eric shows up smelling of sex and blood and night air.
He leans against the table, looking down at her.

[lazy_but_loyal]

Pam feels him come in even before she sees him, and so she keeps typing away without much concern. It's only when he leans against the table does she pause to look up at him.

"You've been busy," she says, a faint smirk on her lips.

[onceaviking]

"I have," he agrees.

It's how Eric deals with stress. And uncertainy.

"Compiling shopping lists?" Not for food of course.

[lazy_but_loyal]

"Might as well while I'm here." It's said with a shrug and a little sigh in her voice.

"It's just a theoretical list. I'm not planning on maxing out your credit card."

[onceaviking]

He pushes away from the table and walks behind her, leaning in and down.
"Show me," he says.

It's not a no.
And when it's not a no ...

[lazy_but_loyal]

Pam likes it when it's not a no.

She clicks on a few bookmarked links for things like a pair of strappy red pumps, a slinky black dress, or a tight skirt with a slit up the side.

"--But here's a corset that a girl here showed me. I'm going to get it custom made at my usual place in Chicago. What do you think?"

He did say that she ought to get a new corset.

[buh_bye]

The smell of dust lingers around a man drinking tea near her, if her nose is really good she might catch the underlying smell of decomp.

[lazy_but_loyal]

Eventually, Pam has to stop typing and glance around her.

It's the old guy who stinks. She has half a mind to take her laptop and move.

"Jesus Christ, what the hell did you step in?"

[buh_bye]

"Miss. De Beaufort, I believe what you are smelling is part of my nature," he said, "Most humans can't smell it, well unless I let them. But you aren't human."

He smiled.

[lazy_but_loyal]

Slow blink. Eyeroll.

She turns back to the laptop screen.

"Lucky guess," she mutters dryly.

She already knows he isn't human. So go figure that he knows that she isn't either.

The weirdos in this place sometimes.

[buh_bye]

"Not necessarily," he said he took a sip of tea.

Death was willing to forgo conversation.

[lazy_but_loyal]

"Oh, well, aren't you special, then? Good for you."

Type, type, type.