( in Steve's defense, his overly biased assumptions were wizard OR vampire. he still hasn't ruled either out. if anything, Louis makes him think one is more likely than the other. both would be equally bad, if the stranger he agreed to meet up with alone in a secluded place decided he wanted him dead. but he's not dead yet, now is he?
Steve frowns, wearing his confusion on his face like a puppy. sadly, he does not know a Marty McFly when he sees it. he was not a movie buff even when he had the opportunity to watch them, using them mostly as background noise for making out. all the same, Back to the Future came out in 1985, and thusly the kid that got stuck in a foggy murder dimension in 1984 has no clue what Lestat is talking about. )
That somebody you know? ( Steve asks, trying to follow along. if only he'd used a Alex P. Keaton reference, that Steve could have picked up on. he shrugs, because probably some random dude named Marty doesn't matter that much. ) Last I remember is '84.
( Steve's trying not to look overly interested in the rifling through pockets, the overly wrought search for a cigarette case and lighter, but can't actually manage to look away. it's really goddamn depressing that just the thought of a smoke is making his mouth water. and how is this dude not freezing up here? Steve came appropriately dressed and still finds it uncomfortably gloomy this far from the hearths of the castle. he must admit upon watching the guy that he looks more than good for being ancient, if only to himself. what's the deal with all the good looking blonde french guys around here? like, there's only two that Steve knows about, but that's still a strange amount of adjectives to have in common. )
After your time, then. [ He is proudly close, then. Good work for someone who has mostly understood the cultural zeitgeist of lost decades by absorbing it through thought miasma and binge watching media at home. ]
Very [ His hand swirls around in the air a bit. ] Golden Boy, small town hero, but when stressed, becomes like a...cranky puppy.
[ While he's certain that if cigarette smoke poured like liquid, Steve would fight the urge to lick it off the ground, he's polite enough not blow smoke in his face. Balancing his wrist on his perched knee, his fingers twist the cigarette around to dangle it on offer. ]
Didn't you just want to get to the point? You can come closer, you know. [ He smiles. ] I won't bite.
( it's funny, Steve actually would prefer a shotgun moment. because he's got pride, even now, even after everything. too much to just beg, no matter how desperate he feels, even if his fingers are almost twitching with how bad he wants it. he doesn't even remember the last time he had a cigarette, which means it must have been before the fog. having smoke blown in his face would be shitty and condescending, and very, very annoying, but also a lot closer to actually having a smoke than just standing here with nothing. )
Wow. Okay, asshole. ( Steve crosses his arms, both offended and uncomfortable. it's a bonus that it hides his greedy, twitchy hands. literally no red blooded teenage boy wants to be compared to a puppy, Lestat!!! and the hero golden boy thing isn't much better, not after everything with Agnete. everyone in the castle knows how that went down at this point, makes the words feel shitty and sarcastic.
Steve does just want to get to the point. if he's not getting a cigarette out of this, even staring at the cracks in his ceiling would be a better use of his time. so Steve pries himself off the wall and comes closer, playing along but only barely. ) Are you gonna tell me what you want for it, or did you just drag me out here to be a dick?
[ Unfortunate how he tends to keep to his promises. What Steve could offer him, he wouldn't want. What Lestat would, he's certain Steve is not desperate nor fond enough of him to agree to. He could be a dick. He could be a monster. Yet, the vampire is here, twirling a cigarette outward like baiting a stray with a can of tuna.]
You mistake me for someone petty. Have you once considered that I could be feeling somewhat generous?
[ Pettiness is reserved for someone he knows and hates intimately. Steve is some punk kid that his dearest situationship has imprinted upon as a replacement for his absent sister-daughter. They don't need to like one another. Steve can continue to observe him with both contempt and bisexual yearning. He's already attempting to look as harmless as he possibly can.]
Consider it a peace offering. My condolences for your losses. For putting up with my Louis.
Seriously? ( of all the twists this could have taken, Steve did not see that one coming. maybe he should have, though, because someone bringing real weird energy tracing back to Louis has happened to him twice now. the Chevalier had been Intense in caping for the guy when the situation certainly did not merit it. is the guy catnip for moody french blondes or something?
it is a weird reason to extend an olive branch. especially when they both know a cigarettes are a limited resource in their present situation. weird as it is, it also feels more genuine than the rest of it did. and while Steve genuinely has no clue what he has to do with anything, he's also not gonna argue about getting a free smoke for it.
which means he does close the rest of the distance for his treat, thank you very much π€² )
If that's what it's for, I deserve more than just one. That guy is a pain in the ass. ( Steve does not say it with animosity, at least for right now. he and Louis made up somewhat recently and, in fact, Louis is the only reason Steve can walk around for questionable meetings with strange men. that does not detract from the reality the guy drives him up a wall on occasion. )
[ Don't conflate the replacement for the original, he's the blueprint (the blondeprint) from which Louis obsession stems. ]
He means well, of course. [ He has no reason to come up with excuses on his ex's behalf. It's half hearted at best, Louis is a pain in the ass. But that's his ass they're still talking about here. Relieved of his cigarette, his fingers thread across his knee. ] But consider this place partially to blame. Restless, hungry.
Of which we all suffer. [ Him included. A dozen or so heartbeats fluttering throughout this compound. Even now, the steady beat of Steve's heart bats at his attention. His focus draws in, as if to track the rhythm's shift as the nicotine rushes through his system. ] While some of us are more accustomed to thriving in dire circumstances, this is Louis first time to feel like the rat in the bucket.
( Steve isn't as stupid as he looks. he knows a cigarette isn't gonna fix him. but goddamn if it doesn't feel a bit like heaven. it's nostalgic. comforting, as crazy as it sounds. it is the closest to home he's felt in a long fucking time. Hawkins feels so far away sometimes, like it's a life someone else lived. it makes his chest hurt, a little, and not just because of the carcinogens. because he's homesick, misses a life he can't go back to, a life he might not even be capable of living anymore, even if he could.
he goes back to bisexually leaning, just closer proximity this time. blows the smoke up instead of in Lestat's direction, because Steve CAN use his manners when he wants to. Steve frowns, considering. Louis had said he was used to doing things on his own. that he thought he had someone he could trust and then it turned out he couldn't and now he's stuck in the same pattern of trying to soldier through. My Louis, huh? does that make this guy the one Louis couldn't trust? it's a reach; it'd be kinda a big coincidence. but Steve is saddled with goddamn Hargrove haunting him here for no good reason, so, clearly ghosts from your past can catch up to you in the Crucible.
the point is, being hangry was not an option that had been presented for his bad behavior. Steve's gut instinct is to deny, but then remembers the sexy noise Louis made and the fangs jumping out when he'd been bleeding everywhere. so, now that it's been brought up, maybe hangry could have been a part of it. Steve has done what he does best and avoided thinking about Louis healing him, but now he is somewhat forced to contemplate that it must have taken a shitton of restraint to not suck him down like a milkshake given the opportunity.
Steve does not want to talk about that, obviously. so he appraises present company again. ) So I was right, huh? ( Steve takes another drag of Lestat's cigarette, knocks the ashes off the end (it's so fucked, he even likes the familiar burn of the ash on his knuckles), and then props up his eyebrows like the next part is so obvious he should not even have to say it out loud. ) Vampire.
( is it wild to accuse a guy of being an undead leech before you even ask his name? definitely. but also not really, in this particular instance, because Steve would never neglect to capitalize on an I told you so.)
None are here, nor would Lestat care anyway. For all that he's done, for all that he's endured, for the outdated and suffocating notions of ancient vampires and their stifled ways. After getting almost murdered by one's lover tends to shift one's perspective on danger. His is that he no longer truly cares if it is provoked or not. What is Steve going to do? What are any of them? ]
I lack the figure for wizard robes, I'm afraid. [ Confirmed with a modest shrug. Why cover up β¨all of thisβ¨ when instead he can exist, scars and nippples out in cold dying world, undead glory on display. He doesn't need the cigarette to quench him the way it parches Steve's throat like water, but he takes it back anyway if only for the fact that Steve is within reach. It's given back to him immediately after. Why does he still do it? Old habits, something to keep his hands busy, passive seduction..among other things. ]
Blood, on the other hand, would suit my pallor. No?
[ Considering his human meals are far and few between, the blood of rats has barely put color back into his alabaster skin. The graze of his fingertips along Harrington's when this cigarette is passed back are cold, body acclimated to the frostiness of the night. ]
Edited (a typo...theres prob more tbh) 2025-12-26 21:37 (UTC)
( Steve is the definition of a choosy beggar and yet he's still a little π€ annoyed to have to share. not so annoyed he's going to blow his chances of getting another drag, but, you know. a little. thankfully, Steve isn't clutching his homophobic pearls about frenching by proxy. he's shared a cigarette or a joint with a friend or teammate before. Tommy never had his own smokes, the shit seemed to genuinely prefer them with Steve's spit on them first. and while a barely dressed french vampire is not exactly the same as a friend, it is close enough that Steve is not going to ruin his cigarette overthinking it.
he was prompted for an opinion, so Steve appraises. contemplates. blonde and pale and intense fucking eyes aren't not vampy, but it's also not on the nose twiddly mustache silver hair and campy cape that Steve has grown to associate with vampirism. Steve could buy Lestat just being a pretty if not aggressively theatrical dude, if he weren't such a weirdo. the weird shit for sure gave him away, even if he looks more human than Steve finds particularly comfortable. especially when he smiles, which Steve wants to find creepier than he does. )
That's a real vampire ass thing to say. ( Steve has worn more than his fair share of blood in his lifetime and has never bragged about how good he looks doing it. he's humble that way. but, somehow, Steve finds it more funny than ominous, which is fucking crazy, considering he's been on the wrong end of a vampire before. even huffs a laugh, if only because he is forced to wildly evaluate what his life has come to that he's sharing a cigarette with a vampire.
he does hand it over without prompting this time. is the passive seduction working? maybe. and tbh Lestat is not the only one who has a lot of points in charisma, ok. Steve is not incapable of being charming, he's just lost a lot of his incentive to bother. ) Don't tell me you don't turn into a wolf, either. ( though, looking at the guy, demon dog doesn't really fit. Lestat is definitely more of a big cat type. slinky and lazy. dangerous, but quiet about it — at least right now. Steve's sense of danger isn't entirely broken, the slight thrill of his heartbeat is hinting a little faster under his skin. but it's not enough to try and make a break for it. )
[ Well, Steve, he is a real ass vampire. As human-shaped as he remains, the unsettling glint in his eyes stalks Steve's every movement like a feral animal prowling along the edge of the woods. The thrum of his heartbeat fluttering is difficult to ignore. Fear drives primal instinct. The man before him is no more than a bunny hopping around the woods, sensing danger and considering whether or not it should snack on more weeds or flee when danger prowls near. A weaker vampire would choose now to strike, crumple to their hunger before the food gets away. Lestat takes a deep breath, shoulders sloughing as he relaxes against the stone.
Most mortals ignore that instinct that writhes inside of them upon seeing him. An uncanny pretender that moves among them, too charmed by his charm and smiles to remark upon what the Dark Gift has changed in him. When he'd come out of the coffin back in the modern day, his name now a topic. His secret unveiled. How the trembling of their hearts have changed when they look upon him and know what he is. Who he is. Steve may not have read Louis' very misguided tale, but he knows about vampires. He is aware of the infamous count that someone likely fabricated with numerous falsehoods about his kind to deter any detection of their kind. (The idea that Steve met a real Dracula doesn't even cross his mind.) ]
No, nor can I turn into a bat or any other sort of creature of the night. [ He muses, politely humbled by the assumptions. If only because the wolf thing is rather personal to him, actually. Wolfkiller, his maker had called him.] What powers Louis has shared with you are the same as mine, as I was the one who made him.
[ With a few others, as a vampire who has consumed the blood of the ancients, has developed abilities not even Louis has grown strong enough to possess. Alas, little Steve Snack doesn't need to be privy to those just yet. ]
( well, that explains the my Louis thing. Steve has a couple puzzle pieces to put together now, though not enough to make much of a picture. will he get chewed on if he explains them to Quentin so they can make a conspiracy board of gay vampire backstory? hopefully not. bc he will almost certainly tell Quentin. Steve has recanted most of his mean girl ways, but he's still a gossip for entertainment type. )
It was less of a I can do this and more I can't do that. ( Steve frowns, because... well, because frankly he is not an expert on vampires, despite regularly being murdered by one. it is apparent now that Dracula had some other shit going on, and who knows why. he knows the obvious; vampires drink blood and are weird about garlic. something about mirrors, he can't remember exactly. and oh the whole living forever thing. maybe something about silver stakes? or is that werewolves? this would be so much easier if he were more of a nerd.
suffice to say Steve doesn't know even remotely close to everything, and in hindsight Louis was pretty good at going around any opportunity to make it more clear. that's annoying. maybe it's another vampire superpower, to be sneaky little assholes. )
Let me guess, you don't feel like clearing it up. ( that's also annoying, but at least Lestat is consistent about being annoying. which means it's not as annoying as the guy who already tapdanced on his trust once hiding things. funny how that works. )
What benefit is there for me to unveil my every strength and weakness?
[ Ever stop to consider that Steve? His ex husband practically wrote the user manual to vampires (sparing a few details), if only he'd not been kidnapped with his well-annotated copy. Then they'd have all their answers. Louis grief-twisted pessimism and then the Frenchman's own corrections passive aggressively scribbled into the margins. Their gay magna carta. ]
Half the nonsense you were told about vampires were probably fed to mortals by vampires who didn't want the pitchforks and torches.[ He waves a hand dismissively. Easy to prove you're not a vampire by eating garlic or showing a reflection. Lestat only had a certain threshold for it. Playing human for so long has its limits for entertainment when you happen to often be the most deadly thing in the room. ] Tell me why you want to know and maybe I'll indulge you.
( factually, Steve, and by extension, every other little human loser in the Crucible, benefits from knowing details more than the vampires benefit from sharing them. Steve is more pretty than smart, and even he knows this. and it is hard to appeal to something so outside your plane of existence. why would an 800 year old parasitic magical undead creature understand the perspective of the squishy juice boxes with legs?
doesn't make him less curious, though. it's ... interesting? Steve has had to deal with all sorts of supernatural threats, but he's never really had much of a chance to talk with any of them. he never got to have a heart to heart with the shrieking lady that turned into a floating head and trail of intestines to figure out what was going on there, or what the mushrooms had to do with anything, or what the bald purple magician guy's fucking problem was. killers would chase and he would give a good college try at surviving and sometimes it worked and most times it didn't. that was sort of as deep as it ever got, so having the option to just exist and not get immediately mauled is truly a bit of a thrill. he's got a lot of burning questions, okay, and in the past they were eternally unanswered. if Lestat is not going to eat him, why can't he ask invasive personal questions about his cool superpowers? )
Why wouldn't I wanna know? ( blunt. to the point. ) If you were trapped in a creepy castle with something that ate vampires, I bet you'd want details. ( a beat. ) And you're different. From the last one I met. ( clearly. he's not pulling the demon wolf thing out of his ass, all right. Dracula 100% could do that. )
[ Still not 800 years old steve. Is that why they only let you teach sex ed? His face parces that last note, but chooses not to comment. Instead, ]
Not a complete drag? Unfortunately, that's most of them, except for me.
[ Granted, Lestat's life was a drag as well. Daddy issues, mommy issues. Identity issues. Abandonment issues. He deserves to suffer the undead life and has chosen to spend most of it deliciously to ignore the banality of immortal life. He's more of a drag clown, really. Why be sad when you can be a whore? ]
If you're concerned about my diet, why don't we just get that out of the way? [ A polite smile. Because that comment didn't come out of nowhere. That's one thing Bram Stoker got wrong; no vampire would be foolish enough to pick off the crew of a ship. Maybe one, a few if they're feeling snackie. In limited populations, it's better to resort to the rats than pluck away something that can get noticed. ]
Currently, less than ideal when the rats outnumber the humans. Louis seems to tolerate the taste better, but... [ Lestat's head tilts, eye catching the faint shade of a vein along Steve's neck. Rats have always been in a survival situation for him. Barely enough to keep one sane, and it takes multiple rats. He's tired of the fur getting trapped between his teeth. Undead life is hard, Steve. ] I prefer to take un petit coup when I can. It's not enough to impose upon someone, but enough to feel warm for a short while.
( no shit it didn't come from nowhere. do you know how many times he was Dracula dinner? trick question, because not even Steve knows how many times he was Dracula dinner. it was a lot though.
his brows line in obvious, adorable confusion at the french. petite means small. that's all he's got. puzzling over what the fuck cooing has to do with anything does not mean he doesn't notice that glance at his neck, though. it makes his heart thud faster, some faulty survival instincts trying to kick in, fog brain whispering he should run while he still can. some other part of his brain unhelpfully wonders what it'd feel like. he doesn't actually know, thanks to Drac preferring to crack his throat open like a keg.
look. he's just curious! is that a goddamn crime or something? of course it's the neck, though. that's pretty fucking cliche, old man. )
If you don't like cold, maybe try buttoning your shirt. ( Steve has an unfortunate habit of telling cute blondes to put their tits away, but ONLY when they're boys. wonder what that's about. suffice to say, he is not feeling an excessive amount of sympathy about surviving on a rat diet at the present moment. and since apparently he truly cannot help himself, digging and digging; ) So you're like a lizard or whatever?
( which is to say, cold blooded. that's weird as shit, but he never would have guessed that based on his current understanding of vampires. )
[ Sometimes the simplest gestures are the best way to get the message across, Steve. ]
I'm undead. My body doesn't function the same way as a living mortal anymore. Blood is what makes us feel human again.
[ Covering himself in fur pelts won't give him what he needs. He's a living corpse. Fortunately, that means that no means of weather truly bothers him. The nipples are out, and how proud he is that they keep distracting him. Keep telling on yourself, kid. ]
Without it, we become less like ourselves over time.
[ For better or worse, for Steve and the others, that's left to interpretation. ]
( astonishingly snarky, considering he must look like a walking talking bloodbag to present company. if Lestat is as strong as Louis, there is absolutely nothing stopping him from having a boy snack, right here and right now. Steve did not come armed, wouldn't be contest even if he did. and yet ... something is stopping him, huh? because they've had a conversation this long, and he could have been a juice box before even getting a hit of the cigarette if that's what Lestat intended.
it isn't actually that hard to figure out what might be motivating Lestat to keep his teeth to himself. my Louis was not subtle. and Louis isn't subtle about assigning Steve babysitters, or going out of his way keep him in relatively one piece, either. it seems highly likely he is only somewhat safe right now because Louis prefers him that way. which is really weird to think about.
Steve does not know what to make of Lestat himself just yet. does not trust him as far as he could throw him, which isn't exactly far. he seems to be honest, though, if he bothers to share at all. which is more than Steve can say about Louis, actually. )
Thanks for the smoke. ( this is Steve attempting to play nice. which is an improvement from where they started, actually, whether Lestat appreciates that or not. )
[ It's only been his depression diet for decades, but go ahead...rub it in bloodbag. Here he's been, more than generous with his company, his knowledge, his resources. The ungrateful gratefulness of youth. He could pluck Steve's tongue out of his mouth and feed it back to him. He could have him howling like a wolf on his knees before Lestat's feet. ]
VoilΓ ! [ He exclaims softly, leaning forward to clap a hand on Steve's shoulder as he slips onto his feet to pass him with a subtle tease. ] He has found some manners.
[ Better late than never. Steve is slow to warm, but so was Louis. This vampire is nothing but persistent. ]
You really are an old man. ( harping on manners cinches it. the face Lestat wears isn't that old. 20s, 30s, somewhere in that ballpark. he fits the part until he opens his mouth, and talks a grandma. it's kinda funny, actually. a vampire telling him to mind his p's and q's.
Steve is good at putting on a air of nonchalance. his voice doesn't give him away. but despite talking a big game, even a casual, harmless touch made Steve's stupid little heart skyrocket. fear and thrill in tandem.
he's not surprised to hear the next cigarette won't be so easy. proud and a little stupid, Steve tells himself it won't matter. one is all he needed, and now he's right as rain. he stays and Lestat goes, at least as far as Steve can tell. he doesn't linger in the gatehouse long. just enough to stare out at the murky fog curling around the landscape, linger in what is left of the stink of tobacco. rub the spot over his heart, like he can massage out the traitorous way it thunders when he doesn't want it to. )
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Steve frowns, wearing his confusion on his face like a puppy. sadly, he does not know a Marty McFly when he sees it. he was not a movie buff even when he had the opportunity to watch them, using them mostly as background noise for making out. all the same, Back to the Future came out in 1985, and thusly the kid that got stuck in a foggy murder dimension in 1984 has no clue what Lestat is talking about. )
That somebody you know? ( Steve asks, trying to follow along. if only he'd used a Alex P. Keaton reference, that Steve could have picked up on. he shrugs, because probably some random dude named Marty doesn't matter that much. ) Last I remember is '84.
( Steve's trying not to look overly interested in the rifling through pockets, the overly wrought search for a cigarette case and lighter, but can't actually manage to look away. it's really goddamn depressing that just the thought of a smoke is making his mouth water. and how is this dude not freezing up here? Steve came appropriately dressed and still finds it uncomfortably gloomy this far from the hearths of the castle. he must admit upon watching the guy that he looks more than good for being ancient, if only to himself. what's the deal with all the good looking blonde french guys around here? like, there's only two that Steve knows about, but that's still a strange amount of adjectives to have in common. )
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Very [ His hand swirls around in the air a bit. ] Golden Boy, small town hero, but when stressed, becomes like a...cranky puppy.
[ While he's certain that if cigarette smoke poured like liquid, Steve would fight the urge to lick it off the ground, he's polite enough not blow smoke in his face. Balancing his wrist on his perched knee, his fingers twist the cigarette around to dangle it on offer. ]
Didn't you just want to get to the point? You can come closer, you know. [ He smiles. ] I won't bite.
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Wow. Okay, asshole. ( Steve crosses his arms, both offended and uncomfortable. it's a bonus that it hides his greedy, twitchy hands. literally no red blooded teenage boy wants to be compared to a puppy, Lestat!!! and the hero golden boy thing isn't much better, not after everything with Agnete. everyone in the castle knows how that went down at this point, makes the words feel shitty and sarcastic.
Steve does just want to get to the point. if he's not getting a cigarette out of this, even staring at the cracks in his ceiling would be a better use of his time. so Steve pries himself off the wall and comes closer, playing along but only barely. ) Are you gonna tell me what you want for it, or did you just drag me out here to be a dick?
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You mistake me for someone petty. Have you once considered that I could be feeling somewhat generous?
[ Pettiness is reserved for someone he knows and hates intimately. Steve is some punk kid that his dearest situationship has imprinted upon as a replacement for his absent sister-daughter. They don't need to like one another. Steve can continue to observe him with both contempt and bisexual yearning. He's already attempting to look as harmless as he possibly can.]
Consider it a peace offering. My condolences for your losses. For putting up with my Louis.
[ Take the cigarette treat, you stupid puppy. ]
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it is a weird reason to extend an olive branch. especially when they both know a cigarettes are a limited resource in their present situation. weird as it is, it also feels more genuine than the rest of it did. and while Steve genuinely has no clue what he has to do with anything, he's also not gonna argue about getting a free smoke for it.
which means he does close the rest of the distance for his treat, thank you very much π€² )
If that's what it's for, I deserve more than just one. That guy is a pain in the ass. ( Steve does not say it with animosity, at least for right now. he and Louis made up somewhat recently and, in fact, Louis is the only reason Steve can walk around for questionable meetings with strange men. that does not detract from the reality the guy drives him up a wall on occasion. )
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He means well, of course. [ He has no reason to come up with excuses on his ex's behalf. It's half hearted at best, Louis is a pain in the ass. But that's his ass they're still talking about here. Relieved of his cigarette, his fingers thread across his knee. ] But consider this place partially to blame. Restless, hungry.
Of which we all suffer. [ Him included. A dozen or so heartbeats fluttering throughout this compound. Even now, the steady beat of Steve's heart bats at his attention. His focus draws in, as if to track the rhythm's shift as the nicotine rushes through his system. ] While some of us are more accustomed to thriving in dire circumstances, this is Louis first time to feel like the rat in the bucket.
[ Long answer short, no extra cigarette. ]
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he goes back to bisexually leaning, just closer proximity this time. blows the smoke up instead of in Lestat's direction, because Steve CAN use his manners when he wants to. Steve frowns, considering. Louis had said he was used to doing things on his own. that he thought he had someone he could trust and then it turned out he couldn't and now he's stuck in the same pattern of trying to soldier through. My Louis, huh? does that make this guy the one Louis couldn't trust? it's a reach; it'd be kinda a big coincidence. but Steve is saddled with goddamn Hargrove haunting him here for no good reason, so, clearly ghosts from your past can catch up to you in the Crucible.
the point is, being hangry was not an option that had been presented for his bad behavior. Steve's gut instinct is to deny, but then remembers the
sexynoise Louis made and the fangs jumping out when he'd been bleeding everywhere. so, now that it's been brought up, maybe hangry could have been a part of it. Steve has done what he does best and avoided thinking about Louis healing him, but now he is somewhat forced to contemplate that it must have taken a shitton of restraint to not suck him down like a milkshake given the opportunity.Steve does not want to talk about that, obviously. so he appraises present company again. ) So I was right, huh? ( Steve takes another drag of Lestat's cigarette, knocks the ashes off the end (it's so fucked, he even likes the familiar burn of the ash on his knuckles), and then props up his eyebrows like the next part is so obvious he should not even have to say it out loud. ) Vampire.
( is it wild to accuse a guy of being an undead leech before you even ask his name? definitely. but also not really, in this particular instance, because Steve would never neglect to capitalize on an I told you so. )
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None are here, nor would Lestat care anyway. For all that he's done, for all that he's endured, for the outdated and suffocating notions of ancient vampires and their stifled ways. After getting almost murdered by one's lover tends to shift one's perspective on danger. His is that he no longer truly cares if it is provoked or not. What is Steve going to do? What are any of them? ]
I lack the figure for wizard robes, I'm afraid. [ Confirmed with a modest shrug. Why cover up β¨all of thisβ¨ when instead he can exist, scars and nippples out in cold dying world, undead glory on display. He doesn't need the cigarette to quench him the way it parches Steve's throat like water, but he takes it back anyway if only for the fact that Steve is within reach. It's given back to him immediately after. Why does he still do it? Old habits, something to keep his hands busy, passive seduction..among other things. ]
Blood, on the other hand, would suit my pallor. No?
[ Considering his human meals are far and few between, the blood of rats has barely put color back into his alabaster skin. The graze of his fingertips along Harrington's when this cigarette is passed back are cold, body acclimated to the frostiness of the night. ]
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he was prompted for an opinion, so Steve appraises. contemplates. blonde and pale and intense fucking eyes aren't not vampy, but it's also not on the nose twiddly mustache silver hair and campy cape that Steve has grown to associate with vampirism. Steve could buy Lestat just being a pretty if not aggressively theatrical dude, if he weren't such a weirdo. the weird shit for sure gave him away, even if he looks more human than Steve finds particularly comfortable. especially when he smiles, which Steve wants to find creepier than he does. )
That's a real vampire ass thing to say. ( Steve has worn more than his fair share of blood in his lifetime and has never bragged about how good he looks doing it. he's humble that way. but, somehow, Steve finds it more funny than ominous, which is fucking crazy, considering he's been on the wrong end of a vampire before. even huffs a laugh, if only because he is forced to wildly evaluate what his life has come to that he's sharing a cigarette with a vampire.
he does hand it over without prompting this time. is the passive seduction working? maybe. and tbh Lestat is not the only one who has a lot of points in charisma, ok. Steve is not incapable of being charming, he's just lost a lot of his incentive to bother. ) Don't tell me you don't turn into a wolf, either. ( though, looking at the guy, demon dog doesn't really fit. Lestat is definitely more of a big cat type. slinky and lazy. dangerous, but quiet about it — at least right now. Steve's sense of danger isn't entirely broken, the slight thrill of his heartbeat is hinting a little faster under his skin. but it's not enough to try and make a break for it. )
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Most mortals ignore that instinct that writhes inside of them upon seeing him. An uncanny pretender that moves among them, too charmed by his charm and smiles to remark upon what the Dark Gift has changed in him. When he'd come out of the coffin back in the modern day, his name now a topic. His secret unveiled. How the trembling of their hearts have changed when they look upon him and know what he is. Who he is. Steve may not have read Louis' very misguided tale, but he knows about vampires. He is aware of the infamous count that someone likely fabricated with numerous falsehoods about his kind to deter any detection of their kind. (The idea that Steve met a real Dracula doesn't even cross his mind.) ]
No, nor can I turn into a bat or any other sort of creature of the night. [ He muses, politely humbled by the assumptions. If only because the wolf thing is rather personal to him, actually. Wolfkiller, his maker had called him.] What powers Louis has shared with you are the same as mine, as I was the one who made him.
[ With a few others, as a vampire who has consumed the blood of the ancients, has developed abilities not even Louis has grown strong enough to possess. Alas, little Steve Snack doesn't need to be privy to those just yet. ]
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It was less of a I can do this and more I can't do that. ( Steve frowns, because... well, because frankly he is not an expert on vampires, despite regularly being murdered by one. it is apparent now that Dracula had some other shit going on, and who knows why. he knows the obvious; vampires drink blood and are weird about garlic. something about mirrors, he can't remember exactly. and oh the whole living forever thing. maybe something about silver stakes? or is that werewolves? this would be so much easier if he were more of a nerd.
suffice to say Steve doesn't know even remotely close to everything, and in hindsight Louis was pretty good at going around any opportunity to make it more clear. that's annoying. maybe it's another vampire superpower, to be sneaky little assholes. )
Let me guess, you don't feel like clearing it up. ( that's also annoying, but at least Lestat is consistent about being annoying. which means it's not as annoying as the guy who already tapdanced on his trust once hiding things. funny how that works. )
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[ Ever stop to consider that Steve? His ex husband practically wrote the user manual to vampires (sparing a few details), if only he'd not been kidnapped with his well-annotated copy. Then they'd have all their answers. Louis grief-twisted pessimism and then the Frenchman's own corrections passive aggressively scribbled into the margins. Their gay magna carta. ]
Half the nonsense you were told about vampires were probably fed to mortals by vampires who didn't want the pitchforks and torches.[ He waves a hand dismissively. Easy to prove you're not a vampire by eating garlic or showing a reflection. Lestat only had a certain threshold for it. Playing human for so long has its limits for entertainment when you happen to often be the most deadly thing in the room. ] Tell me why you want to know and maybe I'll indulge you.
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doesn't make him less curious, though. it's ... interesting? Steve has had to deal with all sorts of supernatural threats, but he's never really had much of a chance to talk with any of them. he never got to have a heart to heart with the shrieking lady that turned into a floating head and trail of intestines to figure out what was going on there, or what the mushrooms had to do with anything, or what the bald purple magician guy's fucking problem was. killers would chase and he would give a good college try at surviving and sometimes it worked and most times it didn't. that was sort of as deep as it ever got, so having the option to just exist and not get immediately mauled is truly a bit of a thrill. he's got a lot of burning questions, okay, and in the past they were eternally unanswered. if Lestat is not going to eat him, why can't he ask invasive personal questions about his cool superpowers? )
Why wouldn't I wanna know? ( blunt. to the point. ) If you were trapped in a creepy castle with something that ate vampires, I bet you'd want details. ( a beat. ) And you're different. From the last one I met. ( clearly. he's not pulling the demon wolf thing out of his ass, all right. Dracula 100% could do that. )
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Is that why they only let you teach sex ed?His face parces that last note, but chooses not to comment. Instead, ]Not a complete drag? Unfortunately, that's most of them, except for me.
[ Granted, Lestat's life was a drag as well. Daddy issues, mommy issues. Identity issues. Abandonment issues. He deserves to suffer the undead life and has chosen to spend most of it deliciously to ignore the banality of immortal life. He's more of a drag clown, really. Why be sad when you can be a whore? ]
If you're concerned about my diet, why don't we just get that out of the way? [ A polite smile. Because that comment didn't come out of nowhere. That's one thing Bram Stoker got wrong; no vampire would be foolish enough to pick off the crew of a ship. Maybe one, a few if they're feeling snackie. In limited populations, it's better to resort to the rats than pluck away something that can get noticed. ]
Currently, less than ideal when the rats outnumber the humans. Louis seems to tolerate the taste better, but... [ Lestat's head tilts, eye catching the faint shade of a vein along Steve's neck. Rats have always been in a survival situation for him. Barely enough to keep one sane, and it takes multiple rats. He's tired of the fur getting trapped between his teeth. Undead life is hard, Steve. ] I prefer to take un petit coup when I can. It's not enough to impose upon someone, but enough to feel warm for a short while.
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his brows line in obvious, adorable confusion at the french. petite means small. that's all he's got. puzzling over what the fuck cooing has to do with anything does not mean he doesn't notice that glance at his neck, though. it makes his heart thud faster, some faulty survival instincts trying to kick in, fog brain whispering he should run while he still can. some other part of his brain unhelpfully wonders what it'd feel like. he doesn't actually know, thanks to Drac preferring to crack his throat open like a keg.
look. he's just curious! is that a goddamn crime or something? of course it's the neck, though. that's pretty fucking cliche, old man. )
If you don't like cold, maybe try buttoning your shirt. ( Steve has an unfortunate habit of telling cute blondes to put their tits away, but ONLY when they're boys. wonder what that's about. suffice to say, he is not feeling an excessive amount of sympathy about surviving on a rat diet at the present moment. and since apparently he truly cannot help himself, digging and digging; ) So you're like a lizard or whatever?
( which is to say, cold blooded. that's weird as shit, but he never would have guessed that based on his current understanding of vampires. )
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I'm undead. My body doesn't function the same way as a living mortal anymore. Blood is what makes us feel human again.
[ Covering himself in fur pelts won't give him what he needs. He's a living corpse. Fortunately, that means that no means of weather truly bothers him. The nipples are out, and how proud he is that they keep distracting him. Keep telling on yourself, kid. ]
Without it, we become less like ourselves over time.
[ For better or worse, for Steve and the others, that's left to interpretation. ]
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( astonishingly snarky, considering he must look like a walking talking bloodbag to present company. if Lestat is as strong as Louis, there is absolutely nothing stopping him from having a boy snack, right here and right now. Steve did not come armed, wouldn't be contest even if he did. and yet ... something is stopping him, huh? because they've had a conversation this long, and he could have been a juice box before even getting a hit of the cigarette if that's what Lestat intended.
it isn't actually that hard to figure out what might be motivating Lestat to keep his teeth to himself. my Louis was not subtle. and Louis isn't subtle about assigning Steve babysitters, or going out of his way keep him in relatively one piece, either. it seems highly likely he is only somewhat safe right now because Louis prefers him that way. which is really weird to think about.
Steve does not know what to make of Lestat himself just yet. does not trust him as far as he could throw him, which isn't exactly far. he seems to be honest, though, if he bothers to share at all. which is more than Steve can say about Louis, actually. )
Thanks for the smoke. ( this is Steve attempting to play nice. which is an improvement from where they started, actually, whether Lestat appreciates that or not. )
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VoilΓ ! [ He exclaims softly, leaning forward to clap a hand on Steve's shoulder as he slips onto his feet to pass him with a subtle tease. ] He has found some manners.
[ Better late than never. Steve is slow to warm, but so was Louis. This vampire is nothing but persistent. ]
The next one will cost you.
π ??? ty for the tasty thread
Steve is good at putting on a air of nonchalance. his voice doesn't give him away. but despite talking a big game, even a casual, harmless touch made Steve's stupid little heart skyrocket. fear and thrill in tandem.
he's not surprised to hear the next cigarette won't be so easy. proud and a little stupid, Steve tells himself it won't matter. one is all he needed, and now he's right as rain. he stays and Lestat goes, at least as far as Steve can tell. he doesn't linger in the gatehouse long. just enough to stare out at the murky fog curling around the landscape, linger in what is left of the stink of tobacco. rub the spot over his heart, like he can massage out the traitorous way it thunders when he doesn't want it to. )