Who: Adrien Green, Merrick What: The two make progress in mutual understanding Where: The Lionhart When: 26 July, 1888 [backdate] Rating: PG
Letting off steam or simply drowning it away, Merrick slipped inside Mac’s pub for a drink or two. The djinn was dressed in shades of black, grey, and a bit of white fitted with a wasp waist. Their dark hair was a pompadour making them stand just a little, but they didn’t care.
Taking a seat in their usual spot at the bar, Merrick sighed and ordered a glass of bourbon.
It’d been nearly three weeks since Adrien had seen the mysterious man at the Institute involved in God knows what -- but the sight of him had struck Adrien to his core, and the look they’d briefly exchanged had stayed with him since. He’d seen that look before -- a look that reminded him, somehow, of his childhood -- a haunted, trapped humiliation that he knew all too well.
He’d gone by the Lionhart regularly since, and even tried to skulk around the hallways at the Institute as cautiously as he could to see if he’d catch another glimpse of the man. He’d been no end of cryptic last time they’d talked at the Lionhart, barely disclosing much about himself beyond the fact he was a ‘resident’ there, and his name -- Merrick -- but the suggestion he’d made that the Institute had some sort of weapon or tool -- that the Analytic Engine was due entirely to it -- had also stuck with Adrien, and made him seek out (as surreptitiously as he could) the records around the development of the Engine.
It’d been frustratingly slow -- he’d had to be careful to cover his tracks, and there wasn’t much he could find out in the small trickle of information he’d managed to glean. Nevertheless, the man had presented a puzzle of sorts, and Adrien was drawn to a puzzle.
That, and the look on his face when they’d locked eyes through the glass door.
When he walked into the Lionhart and saw him, sitting there, as normal as you please, he paused for a moment, and then walked over, a little cautiously, raising his chin. “You free?” He asked, wondering what his reception would be this time around.
Glass of bourbon in hand, Merrick took a long sip and sat it down as Adrien walked in. They turned their head just slightly, hypervigilant despite the safe status of Mac’s Lionhart. A soft laugh rippled in their chest at the question. “That is a loaded question, Mr. Green,” Merrick replied, recognizing the voice. Their armor was out as a trickle of embarrassment and fear ran down their spine remembering their eyes locking during that experiment.
The djinn cleared their throat and turned to look at Adrien. They wondered if Adrien’s eyes would be as they were the last time they saw each other - full of shock. Or would there be pity? “Pardon me. Yes...I am free at the moment.”
Adrien nodded warily and sat, looking over at the man with no small degree of courtesy.
Merrick appeared as he had the last time Adrien’d seen him at the Lionhart -- cool, collected, and a little outlandish in appearance -- a peacock. But Adrien remembered the immense vulnerability of the scars crisscrossing his bare torso and arms, and figured a little armor was warranted.
“I’ve been looking into some things,” he said quietly. “The notes on the Analytic Machine,” he added. “Quietly, of course. And you… well. There are certain things that are highly suggestive of a tool at work -- gaps in notes, leaps in advances, raw materials I am almost certain were not ordered nor already in our possession, a sudden prototype emerging, very nearly out of thin air -- and while an attempt was made to explain its manufacture, the timing… it doesn’t work. None of it does. It’s impossible.”
This took a leap -- but Adrien currently had the advantage, and he thought Merrick might be more forthcoming if the other man knew he had something to hold over Adrien as well -- he’d been digging where he shouldn’t, and it could get him fired.
He looked over at Merrick. “What can you tell me?”
And to Merrick, Adrien was that brick wall. Perhaps he was hiding some horrible history like they were. Perhaps. And yet how much did the other man see and how did he interpret it. Did he see the scars even now?
“Oh? Splendid,” the djinn spoke quietly and nodded as they listened. And as they thought - Adrien had found inconsistencies galore. Lovely puzzles. And then the geas ticked softly in the djinn’s mind, warning them of the close border.
“Mmm, not much. But I can tell you that tool created the prototype exactly out of thin air - arranged the molecules instantaneously,” Merrick spoke softly, lightly flinching at just how close they were to a geas. “The manufacture was done by that tool. Why do the incredibly hard work that would require materials, time, and minds when a tool, mmm, could do it for them?” Skirting around their geas was proving more and more difficult.
Adrien nodded, frowning a little. Merrick seemed an odd combination of eager and uncomfortable, and it was hard to get a read on him. He picked up his drink, and took a careful sip.
“And then… there’s something I will keep in confidence,” he added, quietly. “Something you are no doubt aware of. But I’m not sure…” he frowned again. “Is it related to our conversations? What can you tell me of that?”
Merrick downed the rest of their bourbon and tapped the surface of the bar to signal for another. Sitting down their empty glass, they breathed. “Thank you,” they nodded and blinked - turning to nod at the barkeep with his second glass of bourbon. Then turning back, Merrick took a short sip. “Our conversations? What do you want to know?”
“Do you want me to be more explicit?” Adrien replied, looking over at him. “I know you saw me.”
Softening their features in effort to look less uncomfortable, Merrick shook their head. “No need. I saw you, yes.” They swallowed a breath. The djinn broke eye contact and continued, “I cannot tell you.”
Adrien looked at him closely, appraisingly, his eyes narrowing a little. “You cannot?” He asked, carefully emphasizing the last word. He’d noted the discomfort earlier, and marked it down as simple nervousness, or embarrassment -- understandable, given their last meeting -- but this made his brain sit up and take notice.
Merrick breathed in sharply through their nose and nodded slowly. Discomfort was tingling throughout their body and they took a long sip of their beverage. “I cannot. I...mmm, want to, but,” the djinn spoke and then broke eye contact as the tingling began to burn slightly. “I cannot.”
“Hm,” Adrien replied, taking a sip of his drink, his mind whirring. It was possible there was some sort of spellwork or hypnosis at work, although he realized it was rather fantastical. He sat in silence for a good solid minute or two, chewing over it.
He cleared his throat. “You know,” he said, going out on a limb, “but I heard the most remarkable story the other day about a man who lost all speech and movement with the exception of his eyes.”
He shrugged, taking a sip of his drink. “I have found that people tend to be motivated to communicate regardless of what barriers may exist. This man, for instance -- he could answer simple questions by blinking -- one for yes, two for no. Quite remarkable, really, the lengths one will go to.” He took a sip of his drink. “And sometimes, not answering can be an answer in and of itself,” he added, quietly.
Holding his glass firmly, Merrick slowly sipped in the suspenseful minutes of silence as Adrien thought. There was fear radiating with the pain that was slowly ebbing during those minutes.
Blinking, Merrick lifted their head and made eye contact with Adrien once more as the vampire spoke. That was a remarkable idea. Hope. The djinn listened, leaning in slightly in interest as Adrien quietly laid out the idea. “That is a remarkable man. And quite a lovely story...hopeful.” Then they gently gestured, as if to show Adrien forward with the idea.
“Agreed,” Adrien replied, before shrugging a little. “There’s also the matter of asking the right sort of question in the right way -- the person who communicated with him had to be quite precise, of course. But sometimes, asking a direct question could present… unanticipated issues. Might it?” He asked very nearly absently, as if talking to himself, but his eyes darted over to Merrick’s.
“Being precise is always important when you want to relay a message, a need, history. Yes, it would. Horrible things happen to the nicest of people.” Merrick whispered. Their eyes met Adrien’s, then broke off out of fear than any geas-related discomfort. But they blinked once slowly.
“Hm,” Adrien replied, thoughtfully again. He shrugged a little, and took a swallow of his drink. “I get horrible,” he said, with a wry twist to his mouth, gesturing to his body. “Not that I’m nice,” he added, frowning, “but let’s just say folks lookin’ like me been around horrible for a good long while now. Ran off from horrible myself when I was fourteen.”
He took another swallow, wincing. “They used to use quilts to write in code. You know that? Would sew messages into the patterns. Directions.” He frowned. “Damn resourceful for a people who ain’t supposed to have any brains in ‘em.”
He shrugged, waving a hand dismissively, not wanting to dwell.
Staring at their glass, Merrick listened and nodded. Then they looked over at Adrien. A story like that spoke of someone perhaps older than the vampire looked. At least Adrien was lucky enough to run away.
“No, I didn’t know that,” the djinn shook their head. That was a new one for them. “That is fascinating. Patterns. There is resourcefulness in anyone as long as they have something they need to communicate.” Merrick whispered and nodded.
They sipped their bourbon and tilted their head to one side, leaning in a little further. “It was good that you were able to run off. Something I cannot do.” Merrick confessed.
“There’s a thing to be said for resourcefulness,” Adrien replied, quietly, “and being underestimated can sometimes be useful too, although it’s damn frustrating.” He shook his head. “I suppose I ought to be grateful for having employment,” he added, rolling his eyes a little and snorting.
“Would you want to?” He asked, once again, a little absently, looking over at Merrick.
“I agree. Yes, being underestimated is more so. Hard to be that these days.” Merrick nodded. “At least you have a choice.” The djinn confessed off-handedly.
Downing the rest of his bourbon and feeling the loosening effect, they nodded, “I would.”
Adrien nodded. Apparently, there were some questions more easily answered than others. “Duly noted,” he said, quietly.
“I do believe,” he said, swirling the liquid around in his drink, “that I was curious earlier about a possible connection. One between our first conversation -- about tools -- and about the…” his mouth twisted. “...the ordeal I witnessed that you were a part of.” He shrugged. “Is there, I wonder?” Once again, his eyes darted to Merrick’s.
“But yes. Let’s just say I can get not having much choice about something,” he said, shrugging a bit. “How often you manage to stretch your legs? I’d be interested in continuing this conversation later,” he said, figuring if it was something that fell into the cannot tell range, he’d figure out a way to make it a yes or no question.
Being able to answer questions that did not fall under the geas was liberating, even calming to Merrick. But needed to suppress or twist where they could answer was difficult at times.
The djinn knew Adrien’s questions about tools and the ordeal would most likely edge a geas. So they kept eye contact with the vampire - slowly and completely blinking once. They would not speak their answer. Two bourbons were enough for Merrick at this time. A third may make things too relaxed.
“I can be out for twenty-four hours once a week...if there are no complications,” Merrick answered and tilted their head slightly to try to reference the ordeal. If the djinn didn’t not cooperate to the Institute’s satisfaction, punishment by withholding the ‘free’ time was done.
Adrien’s mouth twisted. “Understood.”
He looked over at the other man intently, and then shrugged.
“Right. I can plan on being here at the same time for the next couple of weeks. Might bring along some questions for next time, if you’re amenable.”
It was a mad risk to take -- one that could (at the very least) cost him his job, if not worse, but he knew that look all too well, and he couldn’t stomach ignoring it. “Don’t suppose there’s anything I can do in the meantime?” He asked.
He figured the answer would be ‘no,’ but it was worth asking all the same.
“I am amenable,” Merrick nodded, breathing slowly. There was the tiniest glimmer of hope.
There were always risks. And the djinn hoped there weren’t too many for Adrien. Then the vampire’s next question made them take pause. Dismissing the idea of having Adrien be a bridge of a sort to Gabriel, Merrick shook their head. “No, not at this time. Perhaps after the next couple of weeks.”
Adrien nodded, and then, after a pause, brought out a scrap of paper and pencil and wrote a few quick lines. “My home address,” he said, folding the paper into quarters and sliding it across the bar.
He knew it’d be trouble if it was found, but Merrick had shown some faith -- returning the gesture was the least he could do.