tampered | Log: Complete

Log: Complete

When; Very early Friday morning 10/24
Rating; PG13
Characters; Lestat (

notapreacher)
Summary; Going underground.
Log; It's well past midnight by the time he gets home from the club. The nights are cooler now and one of these days he's going to have to get himself a winter jacket. If he has his say in the matter it will be like the one he had on Callisto: long and wool and warm but easy to move in. That was a good coat, dammit, and he should have had it with him. But he was a little too fixated on what was going on with Vicious and the whole red-eye business and I'll send a woman and revenge to think about practicalities. Except somewhere in the back of his mind he was; he had the presence of mind to have his sax and a few necessities with him on his spacecraft... for all the good it did him. What was he going to do, bring music to the battle-weary sands of Titan?

Maybe. Now that the war was over they were experimenting there instead of Pluto. Word filtered through -- it always does -- and he figured... what did he figure? Something about how he wouldn't be the only one, the only experiment gone wrong, that he'd be in a place (bleak as it was) where he'd fit in. So much for that idea. He never would have made it to begin with.

It's probably time to take those Titan pictures down off the wall, but he goes back and forth on that every time he looks at them: Titan's part of his story, part of who he was, part of who he is. Even if Vicious isn't here any more and like he told Lin, he's got mixed feelings about that, but... how long will he be holding on to the past? It's stupidly difficult to let go of. Turning the key in the lock he steps in only to find dim lights on, the windows open, and soft music coming from the general direction of his computer.

What a nice surprise. Setting down his sax case carefully, he closes the door and smiles.

"Hi."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Mm. I have no idea. I've never bothered to find out. This music is unlike anything I've heard as well. We can share the experience together. Making new memories. That is what you said before."

Tilting his head back, he laughs as he keeps pulling Gren along. A normal person would trip doing what he's doing. Ah the glory of not being a normal person. It allows him to do exactly what he's doing now.

The measure of trust that is placed here isn't lost to him. It's very obvious that Gren has put just about everything in his hands. Quite possibly everything. That kind of trust isn't something he's entirely used to. But, he treasures it.

"It is what I said. A friend of mine introduced me to the concept and I liked it so much I decided to keep it."

That laugh of Lestat's is like its own song and tonight it is music. It's a sound he's glad to follow: it's familiar and it's warm and it's lyrical and it belongs to the most beautiful man he knows, and he can feel his earlier uneasiness slipping away in the face of that laughter. This is just another part of the city, he tells himself, and they're going to just another club. Together.

And it was so good to come home and find Lestat waiting. He hopes that thrill never gets old.

As soon as they are close enough, he kisses Gren then turns so he can enter the club. The lights are low and the place isn't overly crowded. The gothic style and fishnets of a small portion of the people remind him of those who used to follow him around when he was a rock star.

He finds an empty booth that he pulls Gren into with him. It's the perfect place to watch the people dancing. His arm is now around the man's shoulder as his eyes follow the movements of the dancers.

"Just look at them. The way they move to the music. The way it fills their souls to bring out the dance. It's always so beautiful to watch."

He shakes his head then looks over at his lover. "This is the most tasteful club you'll find down here. For that reason, it's never crowded. Even in this booth there is room enough for the many we don't have with us."

It only needs to have room for two, although he appreciates the sentiment. What he likes is the arm around his shoulder, being pulled into the booth like it's their own private domain. The wealth of kisses he's getting tonight. At Lestat's comment he does turn to look at the dancers and they are beautiful... but not as beautiful as the man sitting here with him.

This is like a date. The two of them at a club: it's going to be fun. He hasn't done anything like this -- gone out with a handsome man, and Lestat definitely qualifies as that -- since Mars. And this isn't a club where he works, so...

"It's pretty nice. I don't know what I was expecting, but it wasn't this." He's about to lean into Lestat when he changes his mind. Instead, he turns to face him and there in the booth, entirely of his own volition, gives him a really nice kiss. Not that the others aren't nice, but this one has a lot of... oh, say intention behind it.

And then he smiles pretty smugly and leans into Lestat.

He can't help but laugh when the kiss is done. "Give you some dim light and a somewhat private booth and suddenly you're the one initiating kisses in public. Believe me, I will remember that."

Crossing his legs, he's suddenly looks as if he comes to this club every night and has done so for years. It's an easy thing for him. He can do it anywhere. The trashiest places all the way up to society. It is all a matter of blending in.

A man comes over to them. Clearly, he works here and he asks if he can get them something to drink. He wants nothing. But, he turns his head to look at Gren.

"Would you like something?"

His very favorite drink is specific to Callisto and he's sure they don't have it here, and anyway, he wants to keep his head clear and his blood clean. In the end he settles for a glass of club soda with a twist, just like he orders at work. He's got his reasons.

And enough coins to cover the cost, even after that camera, which just happens to be in his jacket pocket. He'll sneak some pictures later: the thing has to be tested in low light, right?

"It's not so much a matter of dim light and a private booth as it is being on my own time and in a different place. This really feels like a whole other city." In a way, it is. Connected but separate, and this is as much Lestat's playground as the rest of the city.

And his behavior isn't really all that remarkable, is it? "I don't know. I feel like we're somewhere so different from the City above. I didn't used to be as shy as I am now, you know. In a way, this feels like old times, but with a brand-new and much more interesting partner."

He'll pay for the drink later. Yes, he knows that Gren wants to keep things fair. That's a fact that he's well aware of. But, he can pay him back in other ways. He's the one with the money of the two of them. More than enough.

Gren lavishes him with affection like no one has before during his years as a vampire. He loves it and as far as he's concerned that is equal payment for anything he might buy with the money he has.

"I do try to be more interesting. It keeps life from being dull. Especially for partners who I enjoy as much as you."

Smiling, he kisses him again.

"Flirt."

There are no complaints about that. "So do you come here to watch the dancers? Or is it the atmosphere you like?"

Personally, he likes the company. And Lestat still hasn't let go of him -- he promised he wouldn't -- and he likes that too; his hands go to either side of the other man's face because... because that's where they want to be and where they feel at home. Long fingers play with strands of blond hair, feel the warmth of that freshly-fed skin, and it occurs to him this has to be Lestat's second trip to the Underground tonight.

He won't ask about that, though: there are some things he doesn't want to know. He will happily share the taste of his soda with him, though. It's so much fun knowing exactly what methods work for that kind of exchange.

"I haven't been here for months actually. The last time I was here the music was suited for more classical dancing and I was among the dancers." With his partner changing between Aleera and Marishka. "The Count had said that I was welcome to come along. I have not been here since them."

That's his little story told. Playfully, he leans forward.

"Do you intend to just sit there holding my face and staring at it all evening? I have no complaints, I'm merely curious. After all, I could easily throw nights away to do the same to you."

Shy now, he drops his hands to Lestat's shoulders. They just want to be touching him. It's how the drug of contact works its magic, after all; he looks down and away.

"I just... I don't know."

He does know: he's filled with want. He would have been perfectly content to stay at home with Lestat, doing all the things they usually do. But the night obviously had different plans and maybe he just ought to step up and take a little bit of control and he does, urging Lestat forward so he can taste those lips.

And again.

He doesn't even notice the drink being served, but it's there when he pulls back, lets his own tongue run over his lips as if there's more of Lestat hiding there.

"Well. That's what I know."

"You know a great deal, don't you?" Pulling the drink closer to them, he turns slightly so that his legs end up tangled with the long ones next him. Like they belong there. As far as he's concerned, they should and do.

"Tell me something...his drink you always order...just what is club soda? By the time I ever heard of it, it was too late for me to ever drink it."

Not that he's really bothered by that. He's already confessed that he would not trade being a vampire for anything. That was something he learned before arriving in the City.

Switching bodies is a very interesting lesson.

The question makes him laugh. "It's water infused with bubbles, that's all. I get lemon in it to make it taste like something."

He knows how this might want to play out; the weight of Lestat's legs on his is a comfort and a sign of ownership and nobody owns him but he's more than willing to lend himself out to one person and one person only.

The lemon wedge gets squeezed into the glass; even he can smell that so he knows it has to smell at least twice as strong for Lestat. He takes a sip and lets it play over his tongue for a little while before swallowing.

"You want to try it?

"Yes."

He leans forward for a taste. He's smelled lemons before by never tasted them. This will be a new flavor of things he wants to try when he gets the chance, he's sure. That's the way it is with most things.

He picks up on the hint of lemon almost right away. It's an interesting taste. So unlike other things he's felt on his tongue before.

Pulling back, he tilts his head curiously.

"I think that I like it."

To be able to taste things only through contact with another is both intriguing and a little bit sad, although he's more than happy to share. "I'm glad you do. Let me know if you want more." It's a pretty open-ended offer and could mean so many different things, but he likes the ambiguity in the statement. He's big on that kind of thing and always was, even before prison changed his body into what it is now.

The insistent beat of the music and the dancers capture his attention. "Marius asked me for a story the first time I talked to him and I told him I tell my stories through music. He said something about how music was a falsehood, or no: what he said is that art is imitation or representation." His memory for that kind of thing is very good, especially when it hits on the one thing in his life he loves more than anything else.

Those words of Marius' still rankle and he knows exactly what they were: a test and a challenge, but two can and do play at that. "So I have to tell you, I think your friend Marius is full of shit."

He's entirely welcome to view art and music in whatever way he wants, but those opinions are only that: opinions. And everyone's got their own.

"Music is part of the soul." It infuses every single thing he does, so screw Marius and his ethereal vampiric holier-than-thou crap: he's not having any of it. "It's sad he can't see it that way. For all his experience and all his wisdom."

His head falls back at the declaration. And then he finds that he can't stop laughing. Bending over, he leans on the table as the statement rolls around in his mind. 'I think your friend Marius is full of shit.'

He does manage to hear the rest and when he finally settles down, he's still grinning. Gren deserves a good long kiss for that so he gives him one.

"Ah, Gren. Marius was never a musician. He does not understand music. Just because he has lived longer doesn't make him wise. You'd have to know everything in the world and all other worlds to even have a chance really. He has his moments of wisdom but it is all too easy to rebel against him."

He greatly respects the older vampire. Marius was his teacher. For him, he'd actually listen to words given. Only him and no other vampire. But, he is who he is. It was Marius who first gave him the title of Brat Prince.

"Do not let his words trouble you. I certainly do not."

It might just be a fact that out of all the people he knows, Lestat laughs the most. It's a pretty wonderful thing to see and an even better thing to be able to appreciate, and he can't not join in after that kind of reaction. That it's all sealed with a kiss makes him wonder exactly what pearl of wisdom he just dropped, but he'll take it. He has his moments.

"Oh, they don't trouble me. Everyone's entitled to their own opinion. He was just so serious about it."

It occurs to him then that he judges people by how much music they have in their souls. Lestat, he knows, is an entire symphony, filled to overbrimming with it and the music is surprisingly beautiful and melodic. Julia has music of a softer, more subtle variety but it's there if you listen. Abby has it in spades, and Machi's is a little conservative and regimented, and Lin's music is a cacophony of sound, disjointed and extreme but there nonetheless. Vicious... well, he thought there was music there but he thinks not, after all, although it might have been trying to escape. Marius is somewhere down there closer to the bottom. It's like the music is there but it's been turned off. Even Armand, he thinks, has significantly more.

"And I'm glad I made you laugh. I've never been under the illusion that just because someone's lived longer than me they automatically deserve to be thought of as wiser. That's bullshit too. People are too complex to categorize that way."

What he feels most badly about when he thinks of Armand and Marius and Louis and all those vampires is that they seem to wear this heavy mantle of staid sadness, as if their immortal eyes have seen enough to make them so tired of it all. They're lacking in passion.

Lestat's different. There's a light in his eyes and a beauty in the fierce way he enjoys everything that's so very nearly childlike that it's refreshing. He's so full of life.

"Here, tell me what I'm thinking." The look he gives Lestat is a pointedly open invitation.

I absolutely adore you. The world is a much better place with you in it, and I don't know how I managed without you.

Without waiting to be asked, he takes another sip of his drink and shares it. There's something so liberating about being this open in public, and he loves it.

At first, the thoughts make him pause. They're new and he can't stop hearing them. He knows that he's adored. That's a fact that he's always known. But the world is better because of him? Gren doesn't know how he managed without him? There is a devotion that he's not fully used to. And...it's making him fall for Gren further.

With the hint of lemon still fresh on his tongue, he smiles as it all sinks in.

"You absolutely adore me. The world is a much better place with me in it, and you don't know how you managed without me."

The words are said loud enough to be heard but only just. He doesn't want them said any louder. They should just remain between them. Lost to anyone else.

"Let's forget about Marius and the others. They are all so serious it could kill them if weren't for the fact that they are immortal."

"Marius who."

It's not just any vampire who can steal his heart. He was attracted to Lestat from the start, before he had a chance to be dazzled by his speed and agility and mind-reading skills and finesse and supreme competence at everything he does. No, there was something immediately intriguing and really, if he thinks about it Lestat is his type: tall and fair-haired and pale-eyed and confident and powerful and he's never claimed not to be a creature of habit.

And he doesn't have to think about that now because here they are. And in some ways -- when Lestat speaks so softly -- it's like they're wrapped in their own impenetrable little cocoon and no one can interrupt: not the couple who dances right into their table, not the server looking to see if they need a refill, not the guy who's been lingering with that hey, how about it, you two? look on his face just this side of the shadows, not the pickpocket in the corner. Not even the music, really, although it's a glorious undertone to the whole affair.

With utter fondness, he runs his hand over Lestat's hair. "Look what I've got." His hand slips into his pocket and comes up with the camera he hasn't told Lestat about yet.

A camera? When did he get that? And such a fine one too. Someone obviously helped him. Probably Abby. She's quite the expert when it come to technology. He only needed a short glimpse into her mind to see that. The term for it was 'technogeek' if he recalled correctly.

Leaning forward, he gets a closer look at the camera.

"When did you get this beautiful piece of technology? I assume it was Abby that aided you in finding it, of course. She seems the most likely suspect for such a thing."

He slides even closer. He can see the camera just fine at a distance even in the dim light. But, he can't resist the simple task of looking closer. The fact that it's an added excuse to be closer to Gren is wonderful as well.

"I do not recall you having a camera in your possession before."

Being able to surprise Lestat is so much fun.

"I got it a few days ago. Horatio and Apolline helped. They were very convincing when it came time to keep the salesman's prices in line." Handing over the camera for inspection, he smirks a little bit. "You wanted to know what kind of camera took those pictures in low lighting so well. This is the same kind of camera Abby used. She went with us to pick it out."

He's immensely pleased with himself. "Now I can have my own pictures of you on the wall. I think we should try it out, don't you?"

"This is the type of camera she was using?"

So, Gren had bought the camera when he'd gone out with the dogs. And had kept it to himself for several days. He couldn't help but to be impressed by that. The offer that follows the story brings the smile back to his lips. After all, that is an absolutely brilliant idea.

"We should. I would love to see me up on the wall. However, I want the chance to take pictures of you as well."

Ah, there's that vanity he loves so much on Lestat: he wears it so evidently on his sleeve for everyone to see. Of course he would love to see himself up on the wall; it will fill him with satisfaction.

"That sounds fair to me. Want me to show you how this works, or would you rather figure it out for yourself?" He's easy either way and really doesn't want to take the fun out of it. Lestat's got such innate curiosity and really seems to get a kick out of figuring out how things work -- that he'd figured out the computer and the music program on it was a surprise -- and he's so much fun to watch.

"I thought it would be fun to have something like this for us to share."

There isn't even a moment of hesitation before he's shaking his head. "I want to figure out how to use it for myself."

One thing about being who he is, is that he'll figure it out quickly then never forget how to use it. It is one of his gifts. To have an understanding of how technology functions. Plus, he's always been curious about the way technology has changed through the ages. He still remembers days when cameras looked nothing like this. Now they are small and compact.

It's just fascinating.

"I like having this new thing for us to share."

That's exactly the choice he thought would be made; he nods and reaches for his soda. "It's all yours, then."

For now, at least, and once Lestat figures it out -- which will happen in a matter of moments, he's sure -- he's welcome to take as many pictures as he wants. The memory card has room for almost a thousand of the things, or so the instruction manual said.

"As long as I'm your first and best subject." He's teasing; there aren't any conditions on the camera's use. Sometimes, though, it's nice to feel important.

"What a delicious subject you will be too."

Taking the camera, he turns it over a couple times in his hand. It's turned off currently but this symbol here means...Ah, there. Now it is turned on. He doesn't need the flash so to turn that off probably means...There. No more flash. The button for taking the picture is generally located...here. What is this button though? Oh! He can view the pictures he takes? How delightful.

He flips it back to the other function then takes a quick picture of Gren without warning him. Switching back to the viewing side, he smiles at what he captured. Gren sitting there relaxed with the soda held in his hand. A little smile toying at his lips.

"Beautiful." Turning the camera to Gren, he continues smiling. "Look."

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