fatespoken | ∞ [ phone post ]

come down to my bar

stars, fresh air & solitude vs. vampires & shitty liquor

no.

free liquor, and it's not shitty. buy you a drink. only offer you'll ever get

it's a vampire bar. what do vampires know about drinking?

[ A beat. ]

why the sudden generosity?

not everyone down there's dead. and the guy who owns it is alive.

take it or leave it

your own bar, huh? Not that impressive.

It'll take me some time. I'm with my horse, on the mountain.

Edited 2011-07-04 04:06 (UTC)

bright side of a vamp bar, open all night.

[ Amory hadn't exactly been exaggerating when he said it would take him 'some time.' A vague increment of time that translates into six hours, give or take ten minutes, during which Frankie must have wondered whether the brunette had flaked out. When Amory does arrive, it's nearly going on 3 AM, and he walks in smelling of horse musk and dank sweat with the definite shadow of a beard shading his chin. Rivers make for decent showers, but for the sensitive olfactory capabilities of a vampire... maybe he doesn't seem edible, blood aside.

Just as planned?

He enters without drawing much attention to himself, for the underground sports shadier characters than a false mountain man. Ironically, Amory takes a seat in the same place his father sat just a few weeks ago. Irony known only to Frankie. ]

Free alcohol, you said?

[It's probably a cruel move, asking Amory to meet him here of all places; but that's not really one of Frankie's concerns right now. He nods, jaw a little tight, as he looks Amory over. A mess, but more or less intact, which is maybe more than he could be sure of over texts.]

One on the house. [That's a tacit way of saying... something more than it says, even if the meaning's not clear. Frankie has been anything but reluctant to voice his disapproval of Amory sliding back off the wagon. This has a purpose; it's an invitation, it's bait.] What'll you have?

[ Amory has just chosen to divest himself of all the trappings of civility and return to the basic world of a savage noble, or something. Just him, a horse, bottles of wine, and a telescope. At least he's wearing clothes, Frankie. ]

Blood. [ The word is spoken rather dully. An obvious joke. ]

Coke with rum, of course.

[ He raises a single eyebrow, vaguely examining Frankie's body language as he moves around. Amory isn't that clueless-- being asked down to this bar is an odd invitation. Frankie knows about his dislike for vampires. But the real question is: why did Amory agree? Only Amory knows the answer, and the answer is quite simple. Solitude is his first salve for trauma and unremitting bad moods; conversation with a 'close friend' is the second after solitude has been enough. ]

[Frankie cracks a grin as he takes down two glasses; both get Coke, one gets rum. Funny that Frankie's effectively on the wagon without meaning to be; but he's grown past wanting to drink alone, and he's got no one to drink with since he won't drink with Amory. So it goes; he's just kind of surprised to find it hardly bothers him. He slides Amory's drink over, takes the other himself, and lifts it slightly in a mock-toast before having a sip.]

You look pretty awful.

[ He raises an eyebrow before joining him in a toast. As much as it his impulse is to toss back the glass, he savors it instead to keep with Frankie's pace. ]

It's just a beard. [ Raising his free hand, he runs fingers through his nascent beard. ] You ever live outdoors, Frankie?

[That gets a short laugh out of the bartender.]

We counting smoking in the park after school?

[Frankie shakes his head, fingers draped loosely around the base of the glass, which he's now set back on the bar top.] Not my kinda thing.

Somehow, I saw you as a running-through-the-woods naked type.

[ Okay, that's a bad joke and Amory knows it. There's only one weak chuckle from him.

He slips out a cigarette from his back pocket, twirling it between his fingers, silently asking Frankie if it's okay to smoke. ]

Isn't a city too loud for a vampire?

[He wrinkles his nose a bit, but doesn't say no. Hey, he tries to stay healthy, now that... you know... it actually makes a difference.]

Noise never bothered me. Harder to get by in the country, anyway. Have to hide out all day. No blood. Shitty way to live.

[ He jumbles through his pocket for that elusive lighter. No success. ]

You have a lighter?

[ Probably not, but it doesn't hurt to ask. ]

He loved the city, but if he stayed too long, the sound would drive him mad. I hated it at first. The quiet, those great fields of nothing. [ He adjusts his position on the chair. His tone suggests the slightest, slightest sarcasm. ] But then I discovered that art of getting lost. I'd go up in the woods forever, hoping that I'd never find my way back.

[ A pause. ]

The woods here aren't too bad. I'll take you some time.

[Frankie shakes his head slightly, gives Amory an odd look.]

Things'll kill you.

[An old and not very funny joke. Frankie quit smoking when he quit breathing.]

Sometime I'm off work. [It's sort of a dig, but offhanded; unimportant. Hardly the point he's here to make.]

So. How bad is it, Amory? Worth a big risk?

[It's an odd attempt at being polite, avoiding the word sickness. But of course that should be easy to infer; after all it's why he's been in hiding.]

Feels good to lecture someone, doesn't it? Makes you feel like a big man.

[ The adult that Frankie is, physically at is. He jumps into his next line with a dismissing tone. ]

If you know the stars, getting lost is unfortunately impossible.

[ That's not what Frankie was getting at, he presumes. ]

[Frankie leans back a little, shrugs and follows through to cross his arms over his chest.]

Not a joke. [For now his tone's even; he isn't perturbed by that intentional misapprehension. He hardly expects cooperation in this conversation, he just wants to get it over with. His offer.] Wanted to help. Finish your drink if you're not interested, we don't have to talk about it.

Wanted to help? [ He knocks back the last bit of alcohol, all the while wishing there were more to the glass. If he wasn't such a failure at being what he is, by now would he would have figured out a way to convert air to wine. Or vodka. ] I just needed some air, been in this City too long.

[ In other words, ' I'm fine. ']

Your call.

[He has his moments but Frankie's not a self-sacrifice junkie; he's interested in trying to help, not eager to bleed. If Amory's not willing, he's not going to press the issue.

He relaxes a little, finishes off his own soda.]

I don't know what you're talking about.

[ He adds raised eyebrows for emphasis. ]

[Unflappable, unreadable, Frankie just shrugs at that.]

[ Amory assumes what Frankie is getting at, but he doesn't know for sure. ]

You're not smart enough to help me, Frankie.

∞ [ phone post ]

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