milliways_bar | (no subject)

She sits, but doesn't drop the reason she confronted him. "I want them out. My room is mine, not yours. Got it?"

Not having heard of the translating thing, she shakes her head. "So the bar is a Wonder Bar or something?"

She is still relatively new.

Luckily the bar does not translate that as German.

"Something like that, perhaps."

He shrugs. "I'll take a look later then."

-Beat- "What is étouffer in English, quickly?"

"Make sure you do."

She glares, but then her eyes take on a faraway look as she finds the translation.

"To choke. Or suffocate." She is so not going to ask.

"Two f's?" He writes it down anyway, not really waiting for an answer.

"But where exactly is your room?" He's expecting them to be too large, or demode. Something clearly not his own.

Then scratching his head, "But I have been missing a top hat." he mutters.

Absentmindedly, "Yes, two f's."

"If by where you mean where, then in a hallway. If you mean what room, 19.5. Odd number."

"It's in the right corner of the closet. I kept stepping on it, started getting annoyed."

She leaves out the part where she stabbed it.

His eyes widen at the room number. "Mon dieu, but the bar is cruel."

Then his eyes narrow again. "It had best not be harmed."

"Though I suppose that would explain the shirt. I just assumed it belonged to-" He trails off and writes down 'choke' as well, for good measure.

While his eyes widen, hers narrow. "And why is that?"

A bit of a shrug and blush. "It has a small...slit in it? But it's okay, the thing was ugly, it had lace on it."

No, she has not noticed what he normally wears. Or she's trying to make him mad. The glint in her eyes might tell which.

An eyebrow is raised. "Belong to whom? One of your....acquaintances?"

He hisses in response.

"Pieu?" It may be a translation request, or possibly a threat.

"And yes, an acquaintance, but I must say, they tend to have more taste."

The sparkle in her eye intensifies, but her voice turns a bit colder. "Stake. Are you trying to create a murderer's bible or something? If you are, I hear sunlight is efficient."

If he wants to threaten her, he'd better be ready for a threat in return.

"And I tend to have more knives to hide. And I really don't think whatever they wear in your bedroom is considered taste where I'm from."

He snorts at the last comment, still not looking up. "Too true, mademoiselle. As much weight as I place on fashion, I still prefer them in nothing at all."

"And sunlight is only effective on vampires. It is not a vampire I am referencing."

Now he's got her curious. "Oh, and who are you referencing?"

She leans over, just a bit though.

He's writing in some combination of Latin, English, and French so good luck making any of it out, but it makes a strange sort of sense to him.

"I am not certain what he is." He admits. "Other than large and ugly. And claiming to be immortal." He shrugs at this though, because he knows better. Or he thinks he does.

He glances up again though, seemingly randomly, as a thought occurs to him. "Not a murderer's bible, no. Is that what you think of me?" He asks curiously. She'd be right, of course.

"..."

"So you're referencing yourself?" What? He fits all of those!

She raises an eyebrow at him, tilting her head a bit. "Do I even need to answer that? You've told me more than once that you think it'd be easy to kill me."

She sits back down.

"And to kill me, you'd need a lot of experience."

Montparnasse looks at her. In fact, he gives her a look. It says 'Are you blind, or just fucking stupid?'

Then he glances down at himself. Admittedly, he is just under six foot, but he is far from big. "Oh yes, large." He mutters. To be honest, he's still rather scrawny. Young after all.

He feels no need to comment on being called ugly. He's cocky enough to recognize that lie. Or assume that it is such. "How old are you?" He asks instead, absently.

She gives him a look right back. It says, 'duh?'

"Yes, large. I'm 5'4, everyone is large to me."

Her eyes narrow. "18 in...I guess a few days. I would ask your age, but I can't say I care."

He snorts, then nods knowingly. "18. Right then."

He smiles. "I don't think experience is an issue then."

She ignores the nod and first comment, running her hand through her hair instead.

"It should be. Something like over 11 years of experience."

It's said with a bit of regret. Her mother was a fricken slave driver.

He's listening for all it may appear that he is not. He's taken to sketching, however, rather than writing.

"When was your first kill?" He asks softly.

He's not ready to share his own life story or experience just yet, but who knows, maybe...

She thinks back, even though she doesn't need to. She remembers it easily.

"I was 13. It was an accident. We were on a training mission, learning how to tell auras apart in the middle of a city. There was a trainer with us, but she was a bit behind us. They wanted us to learn by ourselves."

A deep breath.

"There were three human girls, living on the streets. They stopped us to ask for money, and we were just going to keep walking. Except, we stayed a moment too long."

Something like guilt floods her face.

"I don't know how it happened, but a vampire found us. He was weak, but so were we. He just appeared, grabbed one of the girls, and bit her."

She shrugs softly.

"Our trainer couldn't get there in time, and all I could think about was how angry Mother would be if I let the girl die. He was distracted, feeding, and so I just stepped forward and stabbed him."

He listens quietly, still sketching, though it's hard to make out just what yet.

"I see." He replies, finally. Still looking down, -to hide the frown perhaps.

He can sympathize with both sides easily, but that was not his reason for asking. "You were young then, but at least you believed it to be a good cause."

She laughs bitterly, and there is no warmth there.

"A good cause? Maybe it was. But a worthless cause. The girl was still dead, was she not? For all I know, the vampire did not intend to kill her, even though he most likely did."

"Perhaps, had I waited, the girl could have been saved. The other two girls...I cannot say for sure what happened, but they disappeared a week later."

And now she gets to the problem that is always there, always lurking.

"And now I am that which commits acts such as these. I can never return to my home, and all it takes is one slip of my control and I am lost."

Such heavy burdens on such bowed shoulders.

"Mademoiselle," He replies, all but smirking. "if you expect sympathy you are telling your story to the wrong man. I cannot provide it." The smile becomes slightly rueful as he scratches a few more lines on the sheet of paper. The outline of an elephant beginning to form.

"We all face trials such as these. At least your intentions were good. Someone was ready to act in her defense. That has to count for something." A soft amused snort follows. "You would have had a harder time forgiving yourself, I think, had you done nothing and watched him kill her, all the same."

"And now you are one who commits such acts," He repeats scornfully. "A vampire, part demon, a murderer. Like myself. Some of our kind are even soulless, but we do not all deserve your contempt. Some of us have suffered at least as much as you and have survived in the only way we know how."

"I was not looking for sympathy!" She spits, black eyes flashing.

"And believe me, I have had my share of trials. You asked about my first kill, I told you. Excuse me for not being the rock of Vida control that is expected of me."

Her glare intensifies. "You do not need to tell me this. I know it as well as you do. But I cannot stop what my heart feels. Just because it doesn't beat does not mean it doesn't feel."

And she laughs again, the heartless laugh of a killer.

"If you had ever actually listened to a thing I said, you would not think I hold all of your kind in contempt. I have seen firsthand what a vampire can do when control is lost. Even the most well-meaning of them can cause enough damage to ruin whole bloodlines. Not all vampires are evil, but a vampire who looses control is no longer a thinking entity. And that does not spawn contempt. It spawns fear that one day, that might be me."

/As she looks down upon a shattered youth
/A shattered mirror shows a shattered truth

"Then feel all you like." He replies indifferently. "I prefer not to."

But the smirk falters a bit, because it is not only that he does not wish to, but that also cannot. He feels much less already, and less humanity.

"It might just as easily be anyone." He adds, somewhat resigned. "Even a human may be evil, may kill needlessly, and that almost certainly will be me, someday. It is only a matter of time."

"That is obvious." She catches the falter, but presses on. He doesn't deserve anything from her.

"Yes, it certainly will be you. And it would have been you before the blood froze your heart and lungs. It is what you are, Montparnasse. A sick bastard. You find things and people that you care for, and then you bring about their death."

"It all seeps off of you. You're incorrigible. You pretend to treasure your friends but would kill them in a rage. You will end up alone. It is people and things like you that I hold in contempt."

Most of this is guesswork, based off what she can feel from him. But some, she simply knows.