fatespoken | ∞ [ phone post ]

[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.

Maybe. [He's not going to give you the satisfaction of getting riled up at that.] Said it was a risk. Blood's the one thing I know, though.

And what about blood? [ He perches his elbows on the bar ledge, leaning forward. ] You're going to have to give me more than a clue, Frankie. Direct, not circuitous.

[Frankie leans in slightly himself, closing the distance so he can lower his voice.]

Yours is fucked up. Not infected, but kinda seems like it. Maybe close enough for the cure to help.

∞ [ phone post ]

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