gʀɑɦɑɱ ɦɑʆɗɑʀ, ɛรquiʀɛ (businesslike) wrote in summerview, @ 2018-10-27 22:24:00 |
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Entry tags: | zgraham haldar, zred appleton |
my skull is full of sunkin ships
Who: Graham & Red
What: A vampire and a werewolf walk into a coffee shop...
Where: The diner
When: Like yesterday idk?
Coffee was lifeblood. Red cradled the warm ceramic as if he were bound to it through a lifeline. It seemed a shame to shun human things like consuming beverages as widespread as the dark brew but drinking coffee brought about memories from his human life he didn’t necessarily want to forget. Not all of them were good ones, but each of them played a pivotal role in who he had ultimately become before the curse. Dressed casually , he tucked himself into the accommodating cushion of the booth and continued to play on his mobile phone - some game he’d discovered in a moment of boredom that would also go untouched when another game snagged his wavering attention. The diner was nearly empty at this hour, late didn’t even begin to describe the slowly creeping minutes. He would go home soon, perhaps after one or two more cups of coffee. He didn’t need it for the warmth, since acquiring the lycanthropy he tended to burn hotter than a wildfire in the height of summer, it was simply the taste that drew him. Cream, sugar, sweeter than a newborn baby’s laughter. Red thumbed over the screen of his phone quietly, absently taking in the atmosphere. His other hand was warm with the heat from the mug and after a minute he took a sip and then the ceramic vessel went to the tabletop momentarily ignored. If Graham was going to drink coffee, he usually preferred Turkish coffee - also Turkish dessert to go along with it all. The coffee was best following a meal, and dessert in itself was more a social ritual. Friends congregated to sip from dainty glasses and chat, their beverages accompanied by some kind of roll or pastry - Or he could slink into the diner at Stupid O’Clock for something gross, since this small island hideaway didn’t have coffee exactly suited to his palate. Oh well, it would do. He had on a black coat thrown on over his dress shirt, tie, and pressed slacks - the pallor to his skin was noticeable, despite the darker tones that did their best to balance how pale he was. But it wasn’t as if he had to hide anything - didn’t even have to hide the fangs, though no one really got a glimpse of them unless he smiled. Which he did not often do. There, he went up to the counter and ordered his burnt roast. Waiting for the cup, he turned and saw someone familiar at one of the booths. It was nearly empty in here at this late hour so it might appear rude to just act like he didn’t notice anyone else in the diner. “Hello, Red,” he spoke up, posh accent caressing the greeting. Scent was a beautiful thing. The way something carried itself by twisting into even the most subtle breeze or gust of wind was to be admired. Before the event that had changed his life he never would have imagined the extent that one could have when it came to identifying scents, odors, aromas. It came in handy, though, when he was occupied or preoccupied and was not on his guard. That lilt was what drew his attention from level whatever the fuck number of Candy Crush. Red turned to peer in the direction that velvety tone had resonated from and my was he not disappointed in the slightest. Offering his usual playful albeit friendly smirk, his phone went into the depths of a jacket pocket. “Evening,” he greeted warmly, frame relaxing back into the cushion of the booth. They didn’t have to talk loud, Red could’ve heard Graham if he had whispered. “Fancy seeing you here.” The ceramic cup was now in Graham’s hands - he busied himself with opening approximately two containers of cream and two sugar packets. No more, no less. That was all added to his sludgy road tar - because no way would he drink it plain. It wasn’t like the caffeine did much for him - anything vaguely ‘human’ was simply for fun, to blend in, something like that - so he didn’t see why willingly consuming something that tasted bitter would be the choice option. “Indeed. If only every other establishment kept nocturnal hours, I’d have more variety,” he replied politely and, oh, why not? He moved closer with his coffee, settling in the seat across from Red - his vampiric instincts meant hackles raised while in the presence of a werewolf; always wary, always on edge. But logic didn’t really give two shits. None of them asked to be what they were - or even if they had, they were soon dropped like the Tickle-Me-Elmo fad, because that wasn’t interesting anymore and everyone else had moved along to Elf-on-a-Shelf. Or maybe that was just him, and his situation. “How have you been?” he inquired, sipping his coffee. “Wouldn’t you just be in a little slice of heaven?” Red quipped gently, emitting a small laugh. Some places were open late but none of the good ones. In towns like this you had few options when the moon was up: the diner, the bar, the laundromat. Maybe the book store. To get up to more than that one would have to head to the human side of the bridge though there was plenty of trouble to be had. He didn’t even flinch as Graham took up the space across from him. Whatever human cinema has concocted about vampires and werewolves being mortal enemies was probably garbage - he would check with Rasmus and endure the lecture for the sake of the knowledge - and he was too old to fuss around with it. Life was dramatic enough. “Good, I guess. Anxious for the Masquerade and the Halloween shit. You?” “Anxious? How come?” Graham wanted to know, though admittedly, he’d sort of forgotten all about the aforementioned Halloween shit - that would happen, when you buried your face in numbers and spreadsheets and didn’t often surface for air. “Some are rather into the festivities, I suppose.” He stirred his coffee with a dry chuckle - oh yes, it made sense that a town full of monsters would go all out for such a creepy-crawly sort of holiday. “A good anxious,” Red clarified. “Masquerades are fun with the right vibe. I mean, who waits for just Halloween to dress up? Regular people I guess, then again regular people aren’t nearly as fun as we are.” He leaned forward slightly, interest swimming in the lightest parts of his eyes, “Don’t tell me you hate Halloween? Don’t like tricks? Everyone likes treats, or at least that’s what I’ve heard.” Did he hate Halloween? Well, that was a fair question. And the answer was yes, yes he did - that was perhaps why Graham had gone with the ‘willful ignorance’ route when it came to all the spOOooooooOOOOky happenstances, decorations, and specially-seasoned coffee drinks that tended to pop up around this time of year. “Absolutely loathe it,” he replied honestly, with a flash of sleek, pointed fangs in a grin. “The vampire costumes are especially offensive. I ought to claim cultural appropriation or whatever it is that modern-day activists do.” They were all the same, weren’t they? Cape, fake plastic teeth, perhaps a splash of red. Also please don’t get him started on what was considered a ‘sexy’ vampire. As if there was anything remotely sexy about being completely drained of blood. “But I’m also old and curmudgeonly, so don’t mind me,” he sipped from his mug. “If you plan to attend the masquerade I hope it’s fun.” Red was giggling, a palm up over the parted flesh of his mouth at the retort. He couldn’t help it, honestly. Never in his wildest dreams had he fathomed sitting across a booth from an actual vampire. If he was honest with himself hating Halloween seemed fair. Lowering his hand, he grinned at Graham, “Well, some of us used to be modern day human and it’s hard to forget those stupid traditions.” He probably would be attending but he hadn’t yet made up his mind. “Me too. I might work instead, not sure yet.” Red loved Halloween, he got to wear a mask and pretend to be someone else for a change of pace. “You’ll probably work too, huh? Unless you had any other plans?” “As far as I know, I’ll be working,” he mused. Mircea wasn’t a slave driver or anything, but Graham’s fellow vampire seemed to hate Halloween as much as he did - however, he supposed he ought to check and see what the fellow’s plans actually were, come to think of it. “Though I’m not...entirely certain?” How unlike him to not have anal retentive plans all nailed down, with no wiggle room. The very thought almost gave him hives. “I’m open to most anything, I think. That’s odd to say.” No, that really wasn’t his style at all - but how exhilarating, to have no plans lined up! How did people do this, he’d never know. “I might see you around, then? At the masquerade or otherwise.” He would concede that a masquerade was different (and more tolerable) than a ridiculous party with snacks like witches brew and severed finger cheese sticks. “If you can find me at the Masquerade, sure, otherwise of course I’m bound to run into you around town someplace.” Probably at the bookstore, he didn’t often see Graham around like this. Red took a couple of sips from his coffee cup. He’d offered a small, friendly challenge. It kept things interesting when there was something adventurous and Graham seemed to need a bit of that to make things lighter. The fact that Graham wasn’t actually committing to plans warmed the deepest parts of Red’s tiny heart. He couldn’t help but grin, “Already living in the moment. I’m proud of you.” Very well, then. Graham would rise to that challenge. Be more social and ‘run into’ people around town (not literally though), see, wouldn’t be difficult at all. “Thanks ever so much,” he smirked, getting the last dregs of dark brew in his cup. He remembered drinking coffee during his ‘youth,’ the long-gone days of being human. It was more popular with the hard laborers, breakfast being a mug of hot coffee and bread and butter for two pence. But he still liked it - sometimes even more than tea. Gasp. Someone take away his English card, as soon as possible. “It’s my dream to make you proud, Red.” He actually smiled a bit, in that genuine way and nothing tight or dripping of sarcasm - it was a wonder he didn’t break his face. “I ought to get going for now though. Don’t stay out too late.” Also teasing, a little - these dangerous Summerview streets weren’t really all that dangerous. For now. “I look forward to seeing you then, Graham.” That was the trick to Red, he was super easy to please and he doubted it was a secret to anybody that actually knew him. And then he laughed softly, “You do, in so many simple ways, my friend. Until next time.” He was probably one of the most dangerous things on the island being a werewolf and all, but he nodded and beamed anyway, offering a wave with his free hand. |