knock on the door and the door knocks back Who: Rigby and Jezebelle Where: Jezebelle's house When: Just after 3pm
Rigby had not expected that he'd actually meet Graham's sire without his friend around. While there was a part of him that said this should be filed under "very bad ideas" (read: like every time he'd hung out with Autumn without Graham and how blown out of proportion that shit had gotten), Rigby had a good feeling about this. He was curious to see just what kind of woman Jezebelle was, how she'd managed to get Graham so wrapped around her finger. Or, as wrapped as Graham was going to get, anyway.
Though he was a little worried about why Graham had smashed his guitar to pieces. He knew his friend wasn't exactly adjusting to the change well, at least in terms of his former addictions. Rigby didn't know much of anything about dealing with vampires and maybe he should have been worried about Jezebelle wanting him for his blood or something - Graham had said he smelled like the best cocaine ever, after all. But for some reason, Rigby wasn't bothered by it. He had his telepathy to give him some sort of warning, his powers had to be good for something someday, and besides, Graham had said Jezebelle was the classy type.
The distraction was enough to keep his mind off the other things not going on his life, like the fact that he was once again living in his truck with Fina gone. Running into Kai the night before had helped tremendously, too, more than just having a drinking buddy with him when he was feeling down. Finding the address Jezebelle had given him easily enough, Rigby pulled his Ranger into the driveway and grabbed his own guitar before heading toward the front door. Knocking lightly, he hung back and waited, not seeing Graham's car anywhere in sight.
Jezebelle hadn't been up long, having stayed up late cleaning up the mess in Graham's room. She'd tried to find every piece of the guitar that she could and, after making the bed, had piled them all together. Later, she moved them to the kitchen table, realizing that she didn't really want to be in a bedroom with Rigby. It wasn't that she'd be uncomfortable, but that she didn't know Graham's friends and... Well, it was quite possible that they might be seedy enough to try something. The last thing she wanted was to accidentally tempt the man, then end up killing him because he couldn't keep his hands to himself. Killing Graham's friends was not on her To Do list for the day.
When she heard a knock at the door, Jezebelle hurried up the stairs-- there was always work to do in the basement-- pulled on her sunglasses and answered the door. It was bright outside, with still plenty of daylight left in the day, and even with a bit of fae blood it hurt her eyes without the glasses. "Rigby?" Jezebelle smiled, then offered a hand. "Hi, I'm Jezebelle. Thank you so much for coming. Please come in."
The house looked like something out of a fairytale, and Rigby was pretty sure the property value just went down when he parked his piece of shit Ranger out in the driveway. This was where Graham was living now? Talk about looking out of place, but at least the tee shirt he was wearing was clean, and sans holes, always a bonus. Maybe he should have used the Boston money to get a few new pieces of clothes, but then again, it was never much of a priority with him.
Nor had he expected the woman who greeted him, in a pretty blue sundress. "Yes ma'am," he said, inclining his head to her. Had he been wearing a hat, he would have taken it off in that moment. His Southern manners were born into him out of habit. "Lovely to finally put a face to the name, Miss Jezebelle. Ain't no trouble to stop by, I'm just hopin' I might be able to help." He followed her in, looking around as he did so. Graham's description of a "classy vampire" definitely fit the woman in front of him.
Well, damn. Graham was friends with a gentleman! Plus, Rigby wasn't exactly hard on the eyes either. He certainly wasn't what Jezebelle had expected to be standing on her front porch. "You're the first of Graham's friends I've had the chance to meet," she said, shutting the door as he stepped inside. "Normally, I'd wait for Graham to introduce us, but I wanted to get his guitar fixed as a surprise for him and I don't even know where to start." She began leading the way into the kitchen, so that Rigby could have a look at the broken instrument. "Even if it can't be playable, I think he'd like it for the memories."
He didn't know if Graham had told Jezebelle what he was - likely not, as it wasn't something that came up in every day conversation - but those thoughts still came through loud and clear. Yes, Rigby didn't seem the type to hang around Graham, but they did have a few things in common outside of their music, like two sides of the same coin. "To be fair, ain't like I've met many of his other friends either, so let's hope I make a good first impression for all of 'em." Who knew how Graham would take this first meeting? Hopefully the other man wouldn't get offended or something, because honestly, anything like that was the last thing on Rigby's mind right now.
Following Jezebelle into the kitchen, Rigby sucked in a breath when he saw what happened to Graham's guitar. She hadn't been kidding - the thing was literally in pieces. To a musician like himself, one who relied on his guitar like it was a lifevest in the middle of the ocean, or a little kid with a security blanket. Especially when it was the only way to block out the voices in his head. "Damn," was all he managed to get out, setting his own guitar down so it was leaning against the table, still in its case of course. "He did this?"
"You're doing a lovely job thus far," Jezebelle smirked. "First impressions can be rather deceiving, though, so we'll just have to see." When she'd first met Graham, she'd have never thought she'd end up siring him, let alone sleeping with him. Her mind went back to that first night he'd walked into her shop, looking for blow. She'd been none too pleased to have him as a customer until he'd been willing to pay in blood. Then things had gotten interesting. With that encounter in mind, first impressions were nothing to go by.
She sighed as Rigby took a look at the guitar, knowing from his tone that it was worse than she thought. "I'm not sure he knows his own strength yet," she said, pursing her lips together. "If I'd known he was going through withdraw, I'd have helped him, but he was gone when I woke that day and never said anything prior." She was just glad he hadn't gone on a rampage and gotten himself killed. Whomever he found to give him a hit had done their job, though, since he was completely out of it when he'd finally returned home. "Is it fixable?"
"Ain't that the truth. No offense meant towards you, of course." His telepathy meant that he knew more about people than they would probably ever tell him, like it or not. Like right now? Jezebelle thinking about meeting Graham meant that Rigby knew she was thinking about meeting Graham. And surprise surprise, the start of it all was in a drug deal. He'd learned long ago that bringing up the things he heard would only lead to trouble, so he tried to shake it off, running a hand over his hair instead.
Rigby picked up one of the pieces, inspecting the damage firsthand. There was no way in hell he'd get the thing to play again. "Maybe he didn't want you to worry 'bout it," he said, turning the piece over in his hands. Who knew what Graham had been thinking at the time? "I'll be honest, it ain't ever gonna make music again." He tried to fit some of the pieces together, knowing the strings were a lost cause. "I can try to piece it together though. Worse thing that happens is that you'll have to toss it anyway, right?" Throwing away a guitar. Rigby couldn't imagine much that would be more painful than that for him.
In the short time she'd been with Graham, Jezebelle had learned not to try and guess what was going on in his head. She didn't know why he hadn't told her, but hopefully it had nothing to do with her. Instead, she'd do everything in her power to keep some drugged blood around. Calling upon Lex had been a first class fail, so maybe she'd take an evening trip to the nearest asylum... or whatever politically correct name they were calling it these days. Either way, there were enough crazies in there to fill a bottle in less than an hour and they'd never even know she was there. Her fingers brushed over the body of the guitar as she mentally swore not to let things go this far again. There had to be a solution, one that didn't include Graham going clean.
"No loss if we have to toss it," Jezebelle shrugged. That's what she was looking at now. It really couldn't be any worse, could it? "Maybe if we could get it halfway, I could find someone who could... I don't know. I was thinking magic could do what we couldn't manage, but I don't know that for sure." It was a stretch, but magic seemed capable of almost anything. "Do you think it's worth it?" she asked, looking up at Rigby. "Or is this a lost cause?" Would Graham even care? She wasn't sure. Maybe he wanted a new guitar, in which case this was all for nothing.
It occured to him then, what with Jezebelle thinking about asylums and all of that and looking for drugged blood, that the woman could likely smell what he was, a psychic. Though it didn't seem like she knew he could read thoughts, he did wonder a little if it had ever crossed her mind that Rigby's blood might help. Graham had said he'd smelled like cocaine to him, a thought that was rather unsettling. And yes, it was a thought that Rigby couldn't quite shake off, no matter how much he tried. If Jezebelle found a way to help his friend, that would be best. Rigby's blood was not an option; he'd given Graham his word.
"Maybe," he agreed. "I'll be honest, ain't like I know anythin' on the magic end of things. But I can probably get most of the pieces together, I think. If'n you can get someone to put the rest together, I can restring it, I think." It wouldn't really play, at least nothing in tune, but maybe it would be passable. "If'n it were my guitar," he said, "I'd want to keep it, even if'n it didn't play anymore. Thinkin' it's somethin' he'd be as attached to his as I am to mine." One hand reached out to brush over his guitar case without thinking.
Jezebelle might have been a dealer, but prior to meeting Graham, she'd rarely been a user. As a human, the worse that she'd taken was pain pills, but then medicine and drugs had been different back then. Now the drugs she created were useless to her, leaving her to taste the effects through the humans she drank from. While she could identify anyone by taste, her association with smell wasn't quite the same as what Graham had quickly developed. If she'd had any idea that Rigby was a psychic, she'd have tried to shut her mind off, but it probably would have done the opposite, leading her to think of all the things she didn't want him to know.
"Vampires can't do magic, so I don't know it's limitations," Jezebelle said with a twist of her lips. "Any progress you can make is better than throwing it out. I trust your judgment on this." She didn't even know where to begin, so it was really in Rigby's hands. "Let me get a bag to put it in," she said, walking over to the pantry. "So... how do you know Graham?" It seemed like a good question to start off with, but they'd gotten straight down to business. Now she was curious.
Rigby wasn't the type to want to dig through a person's brain and see what he could find out about them. Just the opposite, in fact - he did what he could to shut his telepathy off, and the only thing that worked was his guitar. There was that one time when he'd gone to Heme, but he wrote that off as a fluke. Jezebelle's secrets should stay her own. He'd seen how Graham reacted when he finally realized what his friend could do, and not everyone was exactly understanding about it.
He nodded, "I can start workin' on it tonight, most likely. Ain't got any other plans." Because Fina up and left for LA and all. He could borrow Autumn's garage, but telling her he was trying to fix something for Graham wouldn't go over well, at all. He'd figure it out somehow. As Jezebelle got up, he moved two of the pieces together, reaching over to see if he could find a third that fit. "Met Graham in - Philly? Pretty sure it was Philly. I'm a bit of a wanderer, myself, ain't the type to stay in one place very long, ran into him one night when I was playin'. Jammed together a couple times, went our separate ways." Because sooner or later, Rigby always packed up and moved on, it was just a fact in his life. "Ain't never thought I'd see him again, but I ran into him at a bar one night after I got to Michigan and well, there you go."
"Where are you originally from?" She asked as she returned with a canvas bag. "The accent seems familiar, but neither from Philadelphia or Michigan. Farther south, maybe?" So many different accents from so many different places. Jezebelle felt like she should know them all, but after a while it seemed harder to remember. Some were more distinct than others, and Rigby's was strong enough that she felt like it should be obvious. "Is this a long time in Scarlet Oak for you? Where do you stay?" And for that matter, where had Graham stayed before he'd moved in with her? That was something she'd been meaning to ask. As someone who needed special conditions to sleep, it pretty much guaranteed that Jezebelle had a solid place to stay the night.
"Savannah, Georgia. Good bit south of here, been travellin' for most of my life, though." If Rigby spent any decent amount of time down south, his accent just got thicker, and it would be hard for any Yankee to understand him. (And, by default, everyone in Michigan was a Yankee to him.) Asking him where he was currently staying, however, was something of a touchy subject. Until the day before, he'd been staying with Fina - and Fina was in Los Angeles by now. "Been findin' reasons to stay a bit longer in Scarlet Oak than I originally planned," he said, wondering how curious Jezebelle was, and if she really wanted all the details about what was going on his life. Sure, he could probably stay with Autumn, she'd offered the place to him before - but that would blow up in his face faster than giving Graham a bunch of dynamite and telling him not to play with it. "So long as I got my truck with me, I can find a way to stay anywhere."
"I've been there once," Jezebelle said with a smile, sitting back down at the table as she helped Rigby put the pieces of the guitar in the bag. "It was a long time ago, so I'm sure it's changed quite a bit, but I enjoyed it. Everyone was so polite." Manners meant a lot to her back then, far more than they did now, which was saying something. These day she didn't feel like it was something to expect. "I don't know how you do it-- sleeping in a truck, I mean. I'd offer you a room for a bit, but I should probably ask Graham before inviting people to stay with us." She had no idea how he'd feel about that, even though the house was plenty big to hold guests. Plus, she had nothing for a human to eat in the house, short of a few non-perishables and frozen pizzas. Rigby might not like what he found in the refrigerator.
It had been years since Rigby had been in Savannah, and yet he still smiled at the memory. "It's a beautiful city," he agreed. "And y'know us Southern boys, we know how a lady's supposed to be treated." Nothing to infer behind his words, just stating a fact. Rigby had been raised to never mistreat a woman, and after seeing what his mother went through, he never, ever would. His manners were just part of who he was, even if he didn't look the part on the outside. At her offer, he smiled and shook his head. "Nah, it's all right - but I thank ya for it. Been doin' this for years now, ain't like it's nothin' new to me. Might be somethin' you'd want to talk to Graham 'bout anyway." After their last meeting, having a psychic live with a drug-addict-recently-turned-vampire might not be the best situation. And Rigby hadn't yet told Graham that he wasn't with Fina anymore, either.
Jezebelle couldn't help the resentment that curled up inside her, not at Rigby but towards the men that didn't know how to treat a lady. With a father that had ignored her, a brother that had raped her, and a husband who had beat her, Jezebelle had a hard time trusting men to treat her as they should, but Rigby seemed like one who had been brought up right. It was unfortunate there weren't more of them in the world. "I'll ask him, just in case you ever need a bed, just for one night," she smiled. That would be easier anyways, since a permanent live-in wasn't something she wanted at the moment. She had her hands full with her childe vampire as it was. "So, do you just want to call me after you have a look at it? I can't tell you how much I appreciate your help with this."
Not all men were trustworthy, Rigby knew that himself, having watched his old man be a shining example of douchebaggery for as long as he could remember. Hell, he still carried the scar from where his father stabbed him, all to protect his mother from him. And, given the choice, he would have done the same thing all over again. "That would be mighty fine of you to do," he said, inclining his head towards her. "And I can do that. Might be a couple days, but I'm hopin' I can at least get this to look somethin' like a guitar by the time I'm done. Ain't no trouble, I promise ya." At the very least, he got to meet Graham's Jezebelle for himself, worth the trip in his opinion.
Putting the rest of the guitar into the bag, Jezebelle handed it over to Rigby before leading him back to the door. She would have enjoyed spending more time getting to know him, but without Graham there it seemed a little bit odd. Spending too much time with him might get her in trouble. "A couple days is fine. Take your time, there's no rush," she told him with a smile. It wasn't like Graham was waiting to have his guitar fixed when he thought it was in the trash. Rigby could have all the time he needed. With a wave, she thanked him again, pleased with how well that had gone. Graham seemed to have a good friend, and even better when it was someone she could tolerate. Now, only if she could get Nikita to warm up to Graham a bit... though that was going to take far more work and a lot more time.