fangednconfused (fangednconfused) wrote in birthrightrpg, @ 2020-10-26 12:26:00 |
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Entry tags: | derek mitchell, ~roman skye |
Don't Say I Didn't Warn You
Who: Roman/Derek
What: Recognition
Where: Las Vegas, Rabbit Hole
When: Present
Ratings/Warnings: Low
Derek needed something to fill his nights, now that he was mostly alone. He had never been to the Rabbit Hole before, but he had been clued into its existence. There was never really a reason for him to visit. There really wasn’t a reason now, except he was bored and a little lonely.
He didn’t have much interest in drinking tonight, but he went to the bar anyway to have something to do. As his beer was handed to him, Derek took in the sights around him. So many people, not all human. He could tell that much in the crowd.
“Sweatshirt,” Roman greeted.
He slid up to the bar to get another drink. The tall, thin man was hard to miss amongst the crowd of usual’s at the bar. Roman had yet to see Derek there; it had been quite a long time since he had run into the other man at all. He’d been alright with that, of course, considering their last meeting had not ended well.
A quick look around for this one’s ugly friend. He didn’t see the short fur ball anywhere which was alright with the lawyer. Nor were there any Super Balls in sight. That meant, perhaps, his suit would be spared tonight.
The empty glass would be set carefully down on the counter and Roman signaled the bartender for another drink. “And another for my friend here, as well.” No please or thank you, just a simple transaction. He motioned to Derek and the barkeep nodded in understanding.
“You don’t look thrilled,” Roman added, glancing over at the tattooed man.
It took a moment to square the man in front of Derek with the memory. That felt like a lifetime ago. “Oh,” the vampire responded, then a confused, “Thanks...I think,” as he ordered another round for the vampire. He nursed his first beer, looking at Roman suspiciously out of the corner of his eye. The suit had gotten noticeably older, but no less punchable-looking.
“I assumed you were a normie,” Derek admitted. “But here you are. At this weird place.”
His jaw seemed to recall the ordeal more clearly than his mind had at first, but that wasn’t going to deter Roman from having a good time here. “Sure,” the lawyer murmured. Fingers would drum against the countertop as he waited for the old fashioned.
At the comment about being normal, Roman snorted. “You assumed correctly,” he replied, amused. “Not a very keen...whatever you are, are you?” With assumptions that could be in the ballpark but not spot on, this one had to be distracted. “I come here to mingle with potential clients.” He didn’t have to explain himself but he didn’t care if this one knew the premise of the prowl or not. “This isn’t a weird place? Why do you find it weird? Because there isn’t any loud music and people dancing?”
Derek couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “You don’t know? There’s a dimensional what-do-you-call-it here. What did you think this was, the Yale Club?” Yes, he knew what that was, he had watched some Gossip Girl. The other man was just as condescending as he was seven years ago, if not more so. The only difference was the vampire’s control over his own temper. That, and the club was a no violence zone.
“I think that’s some kind of appropriating,” he added. “You’re taking up our...biologically different spaces.” Yeah, that sounded right.
“I know exactly what this place is,” Roman replied, voice taking on a snarky tone. “You were the one who labeled this place as weird.” The idea of giving up on trying for a decent conversation with this one arose. And the thought that the stranger defined anything not ‘normie’ as weird, was interesting to consider.
“So you’re entitled to these spaces because you’re biologically different, is that what I am picking up from you?” Roman tuned to actually look at Derek this time, waiting for a good answer. That type of talk didn’t sound inclusive, to him.
The old fashioned was set down on the counter but it went momentarily ignored.
The vampire had to laugh at that. The man in the 3,000 dollar suit was talking about entitlement. “I was kidding,” Derek shrugged. “I’ve never even been here before. If I had known you’d be here, buying me drinks, maybe I would have come sooner.” And then he cuffed the man playfully on the shoulder. No ill intent. “And look, no stains.” He held up his palm.
An arch of an eyebrow would signify he found nothing amusing about the wisecrack. “Aren’t you charming?” He replied. The mention of stains had Roman smirking a bit though, “Not feeling adventurous then? Or is your friend not here to bail you out this time?”
“Look, I’m trying to be cool,” Derek told the man. “So don’t mention my friend. Okay?” He smiled, setting the beer down on the bar. He pulled out his slightly cracked phone, checking for any texts. None. Then something the guy had said earlier processed.
“Wait, you said you were here for clients? What do you do?”
Roman shrugged. His version of being cool and this one’s seemed to differ substantially. But he wasn’t going to push his luck even if the rules had a clause against violence. The outside world held grudges.
“Lawyer,” he murmured. Finally he picked up his drink and took a sip.
“Oh,” Derek replied. Then, “You know they have bus bench ads for that, right? You can get your face on them and everything.” The corners of his mouth twitched and he had to look away toward the bar.
Roman nodded. “Indeed. Are you put off by the fact that I market to, as you so eloquently put it a moment ago, those of the biologically different side of things? If so, I can’t understand why.” What did it matter where his clientele came from?
The vampire scoffed. “I’m not put off by what you do or where you go. I’m put off by you. I have a visceral sort of reaction to people like you.” A male version of Veronica suddenly came to mind. “But I’ve been trying to turn over a new leaf, so my usual way of dealing with that is no longer on the table.”
“Well, I certainly am not for everyone,” the lawyer remarked. He couldn’t care less what the taller man thought about him, plainly he didn’t care. It wasn’t going to hurt his feelings or distract him from the tasks ahead. Roman took a casual sip from his drink. “But let me ask you a question for the sake of the conversation,” he began, setting the glass down. “Wouldn’t it be good to have someone like myself in your corner? Protecting your interests? What about your little friend, hm?”
He also didn’t feel threatened at all by the remark. It slid by the way the rest of them did.
Derek was trying. He really was. But that tone, the dripping condescension, mentioning Ronnie again, and that familiar feeling of being talked down to all culminated in one thing. “The day I have someone like you in my corner,” he said, pushing the second, untouched beer away from him and back toward the bartender, “is the day I’ll have to set myself on fire.”
The vampire looked at the other man closely, choosing his next words very, very carefully. “You think you belong here because you have something to offer. But it’ll come back to bite you. What you mistake for loyalty is calculation.” Again, he was thinking of his maker as he said this. “Don’t say I didn’t warn ya.”
Roman offered Derek an amused look, “You think you know me so well, don’t you? What you think you understand is based loosely on interpretation. I can be your best friend or your worst enemy, though I prefer to keep things civilized. So, next time you decide to stain a suit or find yourself believing you’re making life changes why don’t you take a look in the mirror? Maybe what you’re looking for is there, instead of out here. Do you really care what you change in your life? Or maybe that makes it easier for you to cope with whatever inevitable future is in front of you. It sounds cautiously dismal, to me, but then you didn’t ask for life advice.”
The lawyer shrugged. He picked his drink up, turned, and wandered off.
Derek looked up at the bartender. “Do you have a drink called ‘the Arrogant Bastard’? If not, make it up and give it him.” He jerked a thumb toward the lawyer’s retreating back. “On me.” He plunked some bills down on the bar top and drifted away.