tampered | (no subject)

Musicians' hours, he calls them: up until late, sleeping late: he's been used to them for years. Even with that in mind, keeping up with Lestat and his schedule is a little bit of an adjustment.

Ask him if he minds, though: he doesn't. Still, he's glad he made this lunch date for one and not for earlier. He's not even on time.

He makes his way in, hair long and loose. Finds Anita, nods, joins her. At least today he should only smell like shampoo and soap and clean clothes and not like anybody else. The whole business with enhanced senses is something he's still trying to figure out and he's glad it isn't something he has to get used to for himself. No, he likes things okay the way they are.

He also likes being able to walk around in the sunlight. Whatever else Anita inherited from her own vampire friend, he doesn't know but the world is suddenly both crazier and more sane, brighter and more polarized, a little bit on fire.

"Hi. Sorry I'm late."

Her eyes find him as soon as she hears his voice. A smile is offered even if might seem a bit strained. She looks tired but happy, not to mention a little rumpled, but she didn't have much time to get back to the apartment and get ready before lunch.

Long night and all.

"I just got here a few minutes ago. Promise I didn't wait too long, Gren. How are you today?"

She vaguely nods at the seat closest to her in case he wants to talk without being overheard.

Sitting in the offered chair, he stretches out his long legs away from her. He's tall and learned at a young age not to take that for granted. Also, the whole sitting-and-stretching thing buys him a little bit of time to check Anita out, just like she's doing to him. They're a little bit like a pair of cats meeting unexpectedly: there's that circling, the posturing, the sniffing each other out that has to happen before they can come to an uneasy rest and watch each other warily.

"I'm good. You look happy."

He remembers Lestat's words so very clearly after he asked him to describe the relationship he had with Anita: I love her deeply and she loves me in return... Her passion inspires me. Her ever changing moods amuse me. I love to make her gasp and moan beneath my hands as I kiss her. I look forward to the little moments when she suddenly comes to me and just quietly holds me. Without fear or wonder. Holding her in my arms is a completion.

Although he has no right even to the thought, he supposes he probably ought to be a little more jealous. But he isn't. He can't be: Anita was there first. He's the intruder.

Really, he gets the feeling that all of them -- himself, Cloud, Anita -- are lined up waiting for Lestat to pick the one he wants to play with that night. For now, he's satisfied with that. At least it's a lot less demanding than the usual.

It always makes her a little jealous, being around taller people. It's something she's always dealt with so she's used to it, but seeing Gren stretch out just makes her chuckle under her breath and shake her head a little.

"I had a date last night. It went... quite well."

A fond smile crosses her lips at the thought. Yes, she'd had a good time the night before even though it hadn't been with her usual lovers.

"Police work's been quiet lately so I'm actually starting to get a social life. It's almost scary, actually."

That's... funny. It makes him laugh and the laughter's genuine. It feels good. This shift in his mood the past week or so is so welcome that he hardly knows what to do with it. It's making him reckless, and he's not particularly reckless by nature.

He likes it.

"I'm glad you could squeeze me in, then." Brushing his hair out of the way, he sits forward but not too much: he absolutely towers over Anita and doesn't want to make it seem like he's... oh, he doesn't know, trying to be more dominant or anything. It's none of his business asking who her date was with so he doesn't. The way he sees it, this is her opportunity to grill him, to ask him whatever questions she wants.

He only has everything to hide.

"Well, I did have to pencil you in between so many other things."

The effected voice is such a bad mock of a bored socialite that even Anita laughs. She's known a few people in her life that acted like that so it's always fun to poke at them, even if they're not around to defend themselves.

After a quick drink, she sets her handheld to let her know if there's an emergency she needs to know about then settles it on a safe spot on the table.

"Have fun shopping with Lestat?"

"It was sweet." Flagging down a waitress he orders himself a cup of tea just to have something to do with his hands. "I have to confess I felt a little bit like a doll, but he had fun dressing me up. And he's generous to a fault so... no, I don't have any complaints. Does it bother you that we did that?"

What he wants is everything out in the open so he doesn't have to feel like an intruder, an interloper. He is and he knows it, but he doesn't want to have to feel that way. He's not the most selfless or blameless person in the world -- he killed Lin and tried his damnedest to kill Vicious -- but he wishes he hadn't done either.

Of course, that and a few woolongs will get him a big big cup of crocodile tears.

The doll comment brings a smirk to Anita's face. She's been at the mercy of Lestat's fashion sense before, having lost bets to him for various things. "Trust me, I know how that goes. He thinks of me as his very own Goth Barbie. One time we bet that he couldn't guess my size. Well, he won and I was stuck in a dress and heels the next day."

It's a fond memory and even now, she finds herself dressing a little better. It isn't really to please him, but it's nice to see him smile at her as she walks by instead of shaking his head at her myriad collection of jeans.

"It really wouldn't matter if it bothered me, Gren. It's his choice, but no... not as much as I thought it would. I can't just... lay claim to him. He's as faithful as I am."

That's an interesting answer, and not necessarily what he was expecting. But he shakes his head anyway, folds his arms across his chest. "I get the feeling with him that... his idea of love is a little different from the average person's." It's obvious that his idea of pleasure breaks the mold, but that's not what he's talking about. "But I don't think his level of commitment is any less than anyone else's. Stop me if I'm wrong, but dangerous as he is, I think he's... one of the kindest people I've ever met. Am I getting that wrong?"

To echo Anita's sentiment, it wouldn't really matter if he has it wrong: he's too enamored of Lestat and what they have and the whole thing -- all of it -- to turn back now.

She leans back a little in her chair, an odd smile gracing her face. It's soft and fond, but a little sad as well.

"Lestat... loves completely, I think. He's passionate and I don't mean sexually. He loves with all the fervor of someone that's had ten lifetimes. It's not an uncommon trait in his kind, but with him, it's... different. He is very dangerous and I know that for a fact since I've gone against him, but... he's kind to a fault. Some of his fledglings took advantage of that, in fact."

It's strange, really. Two lovers on the opposite sides of the same person, sharing ideas on what makes that certain person so special.

The situation is pretty much beyond bizarre, but at the same time, there's an odd normalcy to it. He genuinely likes Anita. He sees why Lestat loves her.

He genuinely loves Lestat in a helpless, hopeless, immediate kind of way that's way too strong for how new it all is.

He wonders how Cloud feels, and he hasn't even met him yet. Soon, though.

"I've never known anyone else like him. A vampire, I mean." His voice is soft so they're not overheard: what Lestat is certainly isn't a secret, but he doesn't want to broadcast anything. "But you have. You've known a lot?"

The comment about passionate but not sexually he leaves alone for now. His opinion on that might just be different from everyone else's and he knows what Lestat told him and he knows what the physical evidence tells him but... there's desire and then there's desire. Lestat's got one of those in spades.

You've known a lot?

Really, the comment isn't funny, but she chuckles all the same. "I've known a lot, yeah. Killed a lot, too. I'm kinda lucky today's curse didn't hit me in fact. Lestat shares a lot of traits with the vampire back home that I was bonded to. Loving and kind, but ruthless when it comes down to it. They see the world with old eyes. Most of them are so jaded they just... sit back and watch the cattle. Some aren't like that. Some love humanity, but they're rare. In the end, most of them think of humans as food and nothing more. Maybe toys to play with sometimes."

In her mind, there's other things to their relationship beyond the passion. To her, they're almost like an old settled couple. There's comfort and love, and while the passion's still there, it's quieter. Toned down. He's found passion elsewhere and who is she to intrude?

"I must seem like such a child to you." For him it's all new and he's seeing it through innocent eyes. "You know how when you're little and everything looks bright and shiny and you know there are bad parts to the story but in the end, good wins out and heroes win and differences are made. I really don't harbor any illusions that I can change anything and I don't want to change anything. He's... well, for me, he's beautiful. Beautiful exactly as he is in a very... different way."

Probably, he should quit while he's ahead.

"I'm sorry. I'm sentimental, a die-hard romantic, an optimist. I always have been. It probably seems very naive to you. But I do have a question, if you don't mind."

It has to do with that whole bonded thing, and it's something that's been on his mind.

"Well, yeah, a little, but you have to keep in mind that I've been dealing with the more supernatural things for a long time. I couldn't tell you how many times vampires have tried to kill me, and I won't lie and say they didn't almost accomplish it. Hell, I've lost count of the scars I have... and he is beautiful, but so are leopards and wolves. They all predators in the end, but so are we."

Mentioning her scars always makes her seem a little distant, but it's something she's never hidden. They've all been earned and are marks showing that she's a survivor. Without thinking about it, she absently rubs at the bend of her elbow.

"There's not a damn thing wrong with being an optimist. In some ways I wish more of the world was. It'd be better off."

She nods when he asks about his question.

"Go ahead."

This might be none of his business, but...

"When you were... reawakening, Lestat asked you about the bond and you said it was gone."

He feels like such an intruder. "I don't know if you remember that I was there, then. I left right after you said it was gone. Was that a bond with him, or a bond with another?" He knows what the bond entails; she told him about it the other night at Lux. But he never did ask about the details.

Her eyes go a little wide, locking onto Gren's for a long moment. For all her bluster and pride, Anita looks as small and almost human as she really is in that moment. Her hand finds her glass again, needing something to do.

".... it was with the vampire back home. Jean Claude. The master-human servant bond usually doesn't allow for survival if one of the bonded dies."

It's the first time she's ever admitted it; that fear that someone she loves back home isn't waiting for her to get back.

The waitress picks a really bad time to bring his tea; he waits impatiently for her to do her thing but the minute she leaves -- he does give her a nod of appreciation -- he reaches over and covers Anita's hand with his.

The one not on her water glass.

What can he say besides I'm sorry? And those words are so inadequate he almost doesn't want to give voice to them but he does, and his hand only lingers on hers for a moment.

They're the same temperature. Not warm, not cold. Just... there.

"Are you going to go home?" The words and find out are entirely unnecessary.

His hand on hers is a shock and her eyes fall on it immediately. Instead of a grimace or a flat stare, she smiles softly. Lestat's not the only kind one here.

She leans forward at his question, both elbows finding the table in a gesture that would've made her stepmother frown.

"I have to sooner or later. There are things there that need taking care of and I might be the only one that can."

She doesn't say that taking care of the things she has in store for her will more than likely mean her permanent death.

"... I have a lot of loved ones to protect from the dark."

But... can she? She's dead. Dead and revived like him, and he always assumed... well, maybe he shouldn't make assumptions, but he's dead: how can he leave the confines of this city without simply vanishing? Crumbling away forever?

"Anita. How does that work?" Now he sits forward, concerned as much as curious: he likes her and it isn't just that he doesn't want to lose a new friend. He doesn't have any claim on her. But Lestat loves her, and she was worried about Lestat being hurt. "Those of us who aren't alive any more leaving. What does it mean to leave? To go back home?" How can she go take care of things without endangering her very existence?

"I have to make it home somehow. I've been thinking about things to offer the deities to get my life back, but I'm kinda fond of all my memories and such. I don't want to lose anything I've learned here unless I absolutely have to."

She doesn't want to leave, but she knows she'll have to sooner or later. She made promises to so many...

"Death here isn't an absolute. Not like back home. I can feel every single dead person here but I can't control them like I'd be able to back home. It's weird, but this place is just like that."

If death isn't an absolute, is anything?

"I died. You know that. Out there, before I got here but the whole time I've been here I've been questioning it: what's the difference between alive and dead? Is it purely a function of a beating heart? I'm no scientist, but I always thought it was the oxygen in the circulatory system that kept a body going. But here..." Ignoring his tea, he turns his hands palms up. "Is it just this place? Are there other places like it, where the living and the dead and the undead can mingle like polite company at a tea party?"

Her explanation about this place just being like that isn't enough. He wants answers. He wants to know.

And what could anyone offer the deities that would be worth a life? What could be equal in value? He only knows of one thing that important to him, and maybe it's selfish but he wouldn't give up his music.

He couldn't.

"Death is a lot of things to a lot of people and I'm sure there's a lot of places like this since we've met so many different people from those places. Thing is, we'll never see them or get to know what it's like. All I can tell you is that for humans, there's a soul and I'm pretty sure that's what keeps things going. If there wasn't a soul left, we'd be in the ground by now."

She's leaning in close to him, her eyes bright with life. It's a subject she's passionate about and her years dealing with life and death and what comes after just fuels her power.

The whole business about dying here and coming back still doesn't make any sense to him. In a way it's like going in for personal alterations: some tailor of life and death takes people away, changes them: leaves their heart but takes away their heartbeat, leaves their lungs but takes away their breath, leaves their soul but takes away their freedom of movement, then dumps them back into the City to fend for themselves with no answers, no user manual, no way to figure things out. It's weird and discomforting and at the same time it's like being reborn but without having to learn to walk and talk all over again.

It's the price they pay for continued existence.

All these thoughts flit by in an instant, and it's the vibrant light in her eyes that brings him back to the here and now, out of the realm of speculation and regret. "A soul. You're from Earth, right? What year?"

"Yeah. St Louis, in fact. It was 2008 last time I was home. Why?"

It's an odd question to her, even though she knows that there's those in the city from other places, times and existences. She might be open minded, but it's still hard to wrap her brain around such things sometimes.

"I never made it to Earth. It was one of those things I always planned on doing, because I heard the stories of how beautiful it used to be and on good days, when the risk of rock showers is low, it's supposed to still be pretty beautiful. I always wanted to be able to see one of the sunsets: I bet they were amazing. Not filtered through any climate control mechanisms."

So much for moving away from that regretful place but as he confessed, he's sentimental. "To not be able to leave -- to be dead but not dead -- doesn't that just make this a bigger and better prison?" His thoughts are moving from place to place so rapidly and he can't slow them down.

"I'm sorry. I got distracted." Now he focuses on that tea, picks it up with hands that aren't entirely steady, takes a sip. It's not his favored Callisto blue tea, but it's calming anyway.