Lane Probst / Mina Harker (noirishvirtue) wrote in ourtrueselves, @ 2009-10-08 23:00:00 |
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Entry tags: | lane probst, petra dragos |
Who: Petra Dragos and Lane Probst
What: Dinner and revelations?
When: Saturday evening - October 3
Where: LA, CA - Lane's house
Warning: Angst!
Lane had made a very simple dinner. It wasn't expensive, nor was it overly fancy; yet, it was good. He even had the right wine; Mina had demanded they ask what suited a pasta dish and salad. He'd found the right dessert and bread as well. While there were times he seemed like he was out of some pulp fiction mystery trash piece, Mina was quite capable of making sure he knew how to treat a woman. Even if he didn't want any other woman than her; it was a relationship that required therapy, but Lane wasn't going to get it.
He had lit the candles at the dining table; the other lights were low or off. It was creating an atmosphere, which he wasn't certain he wanted to create. Something about Petra bugged him, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Mina, on the other hand, was drawn to her. Actually they both felt drawn to the woman, and that feeling played havoc with their usual life guidance system. They didn't know how to handle her, or anything about her.
Lane checked his tie in the mirror. He'd gone with the suit and tie he wore to the office, or one of his suits and ties, anyway. And, he waited.
Petra arrived at Lane's house exactly at 9:00 - she was nothing if not punctual, and the last thing she wanted was to be late for this particular date - and knocked politely, then waited, almost impatiently. She was having a hard time containing her excitement; she didn't yet know how this evening would end, if it would go the way she wanted it to or not, but she a good feeling about it. A very good feeling. Because, the truth was, she could make this evening go any way she wanted, couldn't she? Lane wouldn't be able to stop her, and neither would Mina, and that made her - and Dracula - very, very happy.
She'd even dressed for the occasion, choosing a dress (black, of course) that she'd held onto since the '40s. It was simple, not too fancy, but it looked incredible on her, and she knew it. She could've worn a jacket or a scarf over it, but she didn't; the cold never bothered her, and what was the point in covering up what she wanted to show? Smiling, she looked down and inspected her dress as she stood there waiting. She spotted a stray thread on the hem and quickly ripped it before Lane opened the door. "There, perfect," she murmured to herself, and she straightened up and waited, making sure she that she'd look lovely when he saw her.
Lane didn't run to the door to get it; he wasn't some school boy going on his first date. No. He walked steadily to the door, feeling a nervousness rising. They always felt so strange around Petra, and neither understood why. They didn't like it, but it felt real. It felt more real than anything they'd felt before. It made the world real and not some bizarre dream.
"Hi, doll face. Come in." He towered over her, and while he didn't mean to, he didn't exactly offer his hand. It was rude, and Mina would chide him for it later perhaps. Lane never meant to not touch her, but there were times he felt that touching her would lead to something he wasn't sure he wanted.
"I have dinner ready, set out - pesto. I'm a little heavy handed with the garlic, so I hope you don't mind."
Petra smelled the garlic as soon as he opened the door, and it took all of her willpower not to let her repulsion show. She instinctively wanted to take a step backward, to gag, but she just blinked and held her breath as best she could. She smiled and stepped through the door, saying brightly and lying through her teeth, "Smells delicious, Lane. I hope you didn't tax yourself too badly just for me." She glanced at the table and a brief flare of annoyance flashed in her eyes. This was an unforeseen setback, but it wasn't terribly inconvenient. She would just have to get some real dinner later, that was all.
She noticed that he, perhaps unconsciously, was keeping a safe distance from her - well, she couldn't have that. She took a step closer to him and leaned upwards to give him a brief kiss on the cheek, then walked further into his house. "I'm glad you did, though," she said, looking back at him. "This looks lovely."
His place wasn't big, but Lane kept it clean and tidy. It might have been Mina's influence. It might have been his past's influence. It didn't matter. He tried not to think too hard about it all. He absently leaned forward for the kiss. It was what men did when a woman wanted to give him one, right?
"No taxation. It wasn't that hard. I just open boxes and poured things. Easy once you figure out how your thumbs and fingers work." He held up his hands and showed her that, yes, he was capable of moving said digits. "Would you like a glass of wine?"
She was beautiful, too beautiful. There were times he wanted to protect her, and he barely knew her. There were times he wanted to lock her away, for what reason, he had no idea. But, locking her away seemed like a good thing to do.
She laughed softly and nodded. "Yes, I would, thank you." She stepped closer to the table and leaned on one of the chairs idly, looking the table over. He had certainly gone out of his way to create the right ambiance, which surprised her a little, but pleased her enormously. It was almost romantic. She smiled and turned around to look at him. "You know, I didn't have a chance to tell you when I was here before, but your home is awfully impressive. For a bachelor's, I mean, and for a cop's as well, I suppose. Aren't detectives supposed to be slobs, stereotypically?"
"No. It really depends on who you're reading. Or watching. Some of us are clean to an extreme. Others slobs to the extreme. We're just humans really." Lane walked into the kitchen, which could be seen easily from the table. He poured the wine and brought the bottle as well as the glasses in with him to set down by the plates. "And, thank you."
He almost slipped, almost told her about Mina. He wouldn't. He'd promised her and himself long ago that he wouldn't tell anyone who was in his head; he didn't need her to be more of a liability than she already was. Only, he was starting to wonder what that really got him. Yet, he didn't want to think of what could be out there. He really didn't want Dracula to find them; if Mina existed, then surely someone else from that damn book did too.
She watched him closely, eyes lingering on his face, his neck, his arms. Fate had been kind to both her and the Count, putting Mina in man like Lane - really, fate couldn't have been kinder. She could easily spend an eternity with him; if Mina had been in anyone else, like a simpering woman or someone similar, Petra probably would have just killed her and moved on, but Lane was different. She didn't think it was possible, but seeing him made her want Mina all the more. And she was so close, so close.
"No, thank you," she said, smiling widely and nodding to the table. "Do you mind if I sit? I think it's time I enjoyed the fruits of all your labor."
Lane quickly put the glasses down and rounded the table to help her with her chair. It was something that Mina had taught him, or had insisted he pick up. It was just natural for him to want to help the woman, even the one that made him wary.
"I hope you like it. Remember, there's a reason I'm a detective not a chef." It was an attempt at a joke, and he was smiling slightly. He didn't like to smile often; smiling tended to invite people in, and more people in his life was the last thing he wanted. People got in the way of so many things.
"How are the children doing? Have there been many upsets lately?"
Petra took her seat gracefully, picked up her fork, and took a small bite of the pasta. It was disgusting, felt and tasted like worms in her mouth, and reminded her how much she disliked chewing - her liquid diet had spoiled her, no doubt. And not only that, but the garlic was already taking its toll on her. The smell was making her feel lightheaded, the taste was turning her stomach, but she ignored it and focused her attention on Lane. She would keep the garlic from affecting her until later.
"It's perfect, Lane. You're a much better chef than you think." She took a sip of wine - also disgusting, but it helped mask the garlic slightly. "And the children are fine, thank you for asking. They're so resilient, you know, exponentially more so than adults. It helps that they all have each other, of course. Lucinda's daughter would be lost without all her friends." The thought of all those children, so fresh and innocent, made her mouth water. Perhaps she'd go for a younger fare tonight; she'd need it, after all this garlic.
Lane settled at the chair to her side and started to eat. He didn't have bad table manners; Mina would never have stood for it, even if the standing was inside his head. He learned long ago to be the more proper gentleman, even if he wanted to tell some women just where they could go. He took a sip of wine before speaking again.
"That's good to hear. And you? How are you doing with the loss of your friend?" He looked at her, watching her. Perhaps he had really put too much garlic in the food, or she wasn't much of an eater. He wasn't sure he liked either choice; he didn't like upsetting people or their stomachs with intention, but he also didn't like to think she was one of those women who picked at food, believing they couldn't/shouldn't eat well in front of men, or other people in general.
"I'm surviving. Throwing myself into work. Lucy's not the first friend I've lost, and you wouldn't think that makes it any easier, but it does, in a very strange way. Almost makes it easier to move on, to keep living even though the person you loved is gone." She noticed he way watching her, so she took a bigger bite of the pasta this time, chewing it and swallowing it as quickly as possible to keep from tasting it.
She wondered if he would buy the garbage she was feeding him - she wouldn't, if she were in his place. It was so sappy, so cliche, so stereotypical of a woman in her position. But then, she'd lived long enough to know the difference between true sentiment and utter bullshit; as a detective, he ought to know the difference too, but she wondered. If he couldn't see through this, then she was doing a fantastic job fooling him. She was proud of herself, definitely, but she was almost hoping that he would see through her. She was enjoying the charade, but she was more than ready to break character.
"Have you lost many?" Lane's brow rose in question, and he was certainly watching everything she did. He sounded like he cared, like he honestly cared, but he was becoming more and more wary of her. He took a few more bites of pasta followed quickly by a few bites of bread and then wine. He didn't like it. This felt too natural. People like them didn't have natural nice dinners.
"A few. More family than friends, actually, but I was never that close to my family." She took her bread and began to tear it into smaller pieces, then ate a few of them leisurely. Definitely preferable to the pasta. She moved to eat another piece, then stopped just before it reached her mouth. "Ah, do you mind if we talk about something else? This topic, it's a little too morbid for a dinner such as this, don't you think?"
"I'm a detective. Murder, death, is my bread and butter." Lane didn't smile as he said it. He just stared at her. He knew that trick. "You don't like the pasta, do you? It's the garlic? I know there are some people who can't stand garlic."
Mina hadn't been paying attention; she'd been happy that Lane was actually seeing someone. Even if it was the first date, if it was a date. Actually, Lane should never have invited her to dinner. Petra was a possible witness, and something about her, no matter how sweet and pure and wholesome she appeared to be, she made the hair on the back of his neck rise.
She looked down at the pasta, then looked back up at him, smiling apologetically. "I'll admit, it is a little strong." She sighed. "I didn't want to be rude, I'm sorry." So he noticed. That was promising, at least.
"I guess I've developed a taste for it." Actually, Lane liked it for more than one reason, and it would explain partly why he rarely got sick. Garlic was actually quite a useful seasoning. Plus, the belief that it might ward off a certain creature was just a bonus, or perhaps that was how it all started. He needed something that would make him feel protected even when he believed in nothing else.
"The bread doesn't have any garlic. Not that hungry?" He knew the trick with the bread pieces too.
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, then rested her hands in her lap and leaned back her chair. "I'm afraid you've caught me," she said with an innocent shrug. "I had a big lunch." She gave him the lamest excuse she could think of on purpose. He'd have to know that she was lying, and he'd have to ask why, just to satisfy his curiosity. Perhaps it was all the garlic, but she wanted this to move quickly. She was growing tired of all this stalling.
"Well, that's too bad. I'll have to eat the dessert by myself." Lane shrugged and continued to eat the pasta with all its garlic. He watched her a moment before sitting up and taking a very slow sip of wine. "How well did you know Lucinda?" The name was much too close to Lucy for Mina's taste. Much too close.
She moved on her hands to the table and straightened out her utensils. She sighed what he would assume to be a weary sigh, but it was fueled more by annoyance than anything. She didn't want to talk about her victim anymore. "Well enough. We hadn't been friends for very long, but I felt like I'd known her all my life. She was a wonderful girl, so full of life." And so tasty.
She fiddled with the utensils for a moment more, then stopped and looked at the detective curiously. "Lane, can I ask you a question? You invited me to dinner, but you keep asking me about Lucinda, like this is an interrogation. If you want to keep our... relationship professional, then why did you do all of this -" she gestured at the table "- for me?" She sounded genuinely curious, and, in a way, she was. She wanted to know what he was thinking, what he thought about her.
"Because you're off, lady. There's something not right about your story or about you. I've got time for only one woman in my life, and that's not you, yet you're always there." Lane's hand lifted to his temple, giving it a small tap on "there." "So, why not tell me what's going on now, or we start working on more creative methods."
Petra smiled, oh so very sweetly. She'd love to see him get creative, but now wasn't the time, nor the place. She leaned forward and propped her head in her hand, elbow on the table again. "You really don't know, do you?" she murmured, looking at him almost fondly. "That surprises me, Lane. You were always so smart."
"Should I know? Like I said. What did you do to me?" Lane refused to listen to Mina, who was now very adamant that they should get Petra out of the house, away from them. She knew, but Lane refused to believe that this woman would be him or anything like him. It wasn't real; vampires did not exist. Crazy assholes with too much time on their hands and a need to prove really weird shit, but not vampires.
"Do?" She laughed. "I didn't do anything to you. This is only the third time we've met in person, you know, and even if I'd wanted to, there's nothing I could have done to you those first two times. You were too busy interrogating me, and then I was too busy saving your life." Her eyes flashed a little dangerously, but she kept smiling. "And yes, you should know, by the way. I'd think it'd be painfully obvious by now, but then, you're only human, aren't you?"
Lane's head tilted slightly. He rarely showed any sign that Mina was there, or that she was demanding attention. He'd grown used to it, her constant presence. But right now...His brows furrowed, and he looked down at the food. Mina was making the case. She was walking the crime scene of his mind and adding up the facts. The last logical piece clicked in, and was it any wonder when Lane jumped back as if he'd been bitten, his hand grabbing for the gun that wasn't at his back.
"Fuck me!" He stared at her, not comprehending it. His mind, his own mind, refusing to wrap about the truth in pure act of denial.
She just sat there calmly, her smile widening and showing her teeth. "Took you long enough. And you too, Mina." She tilted her head and looked at him curiously. "I didn't realize I was so forgettable."
"We hoped you would never come back." Lane edged slowly to the kitchen. They had more garlic in there. They also had a very nice butcher's knife and maybe a cross or three. He didn't believe in the crosses, but it never hurt to have so-called protection around. "We don't want you."
She rolled her eyes and stood up with an aggravated huff. "Oh, please. You're lying, and I know it." A second later, and she was standing in the kitchen doorway, facing his back. It would have looked as if she had just disappeared into thin air and reappeared half a second later, but really, she was just a very fast runner. "And I'd rethink hurting me, if I were you. You won't get very far, and it'd only make me angry, and I'm certain you don't want me angry, do you? Who knows what I might do."
"Of course, I wouldn't, She-Hulk." Lane turned quickly, feeling her before she spoke. He knew when someone was behind him; it'd been a feeling he'd quickly developed to keep from getting dead on the beat. "I'm not lying. Mina had him killed before, why would she want him now? Why would I want you?"
She put a finger to her chin thoughtfully. "Oh, I don't know. Because I'm cute, maybe?" She shook her head. "No, no, that's not a good enough reason for you, is it? How about, because I really did save your life. I could've let you die when you were sick - I could've gotten my revenge for that whole catastrophe in Transylvania, but I didn't. I saved your life." She took a step closer to him and reached out to touch his cheek, then continued, softly. "I don't want to hurt you, Lane, and I won't hurt you, ever. I'm not in the habit of destroying what's precious to me." She glanced briefly at the table and rolled her eyes. "Though I might have to do something to you for making me endure all that garlic. That wasn't very nice, you know."
"You want to torture me, and don't try to play the caring female. You're housing a psycho." As if he finally realized, Lane growled. "You are a psycho." He didn't lean into the touch, but he wasn't moving away. They couldn't. They were under the witch's spell, only for a moment. He growled again and pulled himself away, shaking his head.
"You are crazy if you think I'll believe any of your shit. You killed those women, didn't you? Probably because you were 'hungry.' There are other ways to feed, not killing them." As if he would know. "I want you out of my house."
Her hand fell back to her side, and she looked at him evenly before answering. "You won't want that for long, but don't worry, I'll leave. I know this is difficult for you, and it'll take some time for you to get used to the idea that I'm around, but when you do, you'll know where I'll be." She looked down and smiled to herself, then looked back up at him. "I've waited so long for you, Lane, so long. You really have no idea."
Then, before he could stop her (as if he could), she closed the space between them and kissed him, holding his face gently, but with enough power that he couldn't pull away until she did. It wasn't a long kiss, though. She didn't want to torture him like that - not now, anyway. "That was for the garlic," she whispered when she broke away, and then she let go of him.
Lane didn't move. He couldn't. He didn't know what she wanted to do to him, and he'd wait, at least until she made a move he could understand. One he could react to. His brows furrowed as she kissed him. That didn't make any sense. He refused to kiss back; Mina refused it too. This wasn't happening, yet he wasn't fighting. Why weren't they fighting?
"I should have eaten more." His voice a soft growl of sorts, it betrayed him. He stepped back quickly, glaring. "Get out of my fucking house!"
She sighed, only slightly disappointed. "If you insist." She stepped around him carefully and made her way to the door - she could've done another one of her vampire tricks, but she wanted him to watch her leave. "Call me whenever. I'm not going anywhere." She glanced back at him once before going out the door, but she didn't smile. She just looked at him and left. He'd come around eventually, she knew that. He couldn't resist her forever.
Lane looked at the mess that had been made. He felt ripped inside, but oddly enough, he felt something he hadn't thought he'd felt. A small sense of relief, it was coupled with a new set of anxieties, but now he knew. Now he knew that there was indeed a Dracula out there, and he knew how to kill her. His first few steps were shaky, yet he was walking steadily by the time he reached the door to lock it behind her. He'd kill the bitch, and then they'd be free. It was a romantic idea that had no chance in working; he just needed something to hold on to. Some dream that could help him survive.