Trip Ryker (silvertongued) wrote in the_dome, @ 2013-07-08 20:45:00 |
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Entry tags: | 04-05-2017, mannix, mannix and mickey, mickey |
Are you okay with being used?
Who: Mannix and Mickey
Where: December's Porch
When: 2am
Mickey hadn’t expected howls. He’d walked outside, heard those, then went back inside for his shotgun. It wasn’t a long walk to the hospital, but he wasn’t about to deal with whatever was howling. Because that was new. And new wasn’t really good these days. Out of habit he looked towards December’s, looking for lights, though having a feeling she was at the hospital if she could swing it. What he wasn’t expecting was someone on her porch, and he headed that way, gun at the ready at least until he saw who it was. Fucking vampire. “What are you doing here?”
After talking to his brother, Mannix had passed out, only to wake up later with the worst hangover he could ever remember and a string of messages he’d sent to December earlier in the day. It wasn’t something he wanted to sit on, and after popping a number of pain pills he’d headed out to find her. When she wasn’t home, he settled in on her front porch, expecting her to come home eventually. If she was at work, then he didn’t want to bother her, but maybe he’d catch her before down. Who he hadn’t expected to see was Mickey. “I’m surveying porches,” he said. “Got mine this morning, now I’m trying out hers. Don’t worry, I’ll get to yours eventually.”
“Are you still drunk?” Mickey asked, not getting too close. Not after that dream. It left him wanting to punch Mannix more than usual. “Seriously. Why are you here. She’s not home.” And he hoped to hell Mannix still wasn’t allowed inside.
“No, just hungover,” Mannix answered, then forced himself not to roll his eyes. He could ask Mickey the same thing. Why was he wandering about in the mind of the night? At least it was the time of day that Mannix could wander about. It made sense of him, but not for Mickey. “Why do you think I’m here? Shouldn’t you be sleeping right now?”
“Lucky it didn’t kill you,” Mickey said, not used to the bite in his tone. He typically got along with people, but Mannix brought out the worst in him. “Looks like stalking,” he said with a shrug. “And no. Not sleeping. Tried. It’s not happening.”
“Are you just shooting at people now?” Mannix asked, raising a brow. “I’d be stalking if I was hiding in the bushes, peeking in through her windows. I’m sitting on the porch, waiting for her to get home, rather than interrupting her at work. These are my waking hours. What’s your excuse?” He couldn’t help but be a little perturbed. Despite a handful of painkillers, his head was still pounding and Mickey was the last person he had to answer to.
“Have I shot you yet?” Mickey asked because he was pretty sure if he was just shooting people, he would have shot Mannix already. “But no, I’m not. I’m not like you seem to think I am.” He shrugged, looking around. “Why are you waiting on her?” He didn’t like that, not in the slightest. Not when Mannix was stupid drunk over her. “Since when is my sleep schedule something worth accusing me about? I’m awake. I couldn’t sleep.”
“You’re the one who pointed out I was lucky not to get shot,” Mannix said, leaning back in the chair he was sitting in and putting his feet up on the railing. He was determined to stay relaxed, even if he felt anything but that. “I’m only grilling you because you seem dead set on doing it to me. Do you have a problem with me waiting on her?” And if he did, what would December say about that?
“You hear that,” Mickey said pointing off in the distance. “I haven’t heard howls in the dome. Ever. Out there, not in here. Anyone out skulking about is lucky not to get shot. I was just asking what you were doing out here.” And he was worried. “Does it matter if I do?”
“I hear it,” Mannix said, leaving it at that. He’d been hearing it all evening, along with gunshots, but that didn’t mean he was going to hide indoors. He’d dealt with things scarier than wolves plenty of times. Hell, his father was more frightening. “No, it doesn’t,” he said with a tight smile. There was nothing Mickey could say that could persuade him to leave. Only December or the sun could do that. “Are you here to keep me company then? Or will you be on your way?”
Was it possible that Mannix was more of an ass as a vampire? “So why would I say anything? There’s nothing to say. She can handle herself.” He looked towards the hospital and shook his head. “No. I’m not. I’m gonna go see if I can find her. Because you are easily the last person I want to be around right now.”
“She doesn’t have to handle herself around me,” Mannix said, growing annoyed faster than he might have had his head not been pounding. “Just because I’m at the bottom of your list, doesn’t mean I’m at the bottom of hers. Is this newfound hatred due to the lovely performance you put on this afternoon? I’d thank you, but I don’t think you’d appreciate it.”
Mickey tilted his head and watched Mannix, forcing back most of himself and letting the chameleon out instead. “You’re not at the bottom of her list,” he said, voice almost amiable. “And I don’t hate you. I don’t hate people. As for this afternoon, I’m not sure what you mean by performance, but if you wanted to thank me, I would accept it. I was trying to help you.” Forget fighting with this guy, he could just stop. It might even be easier. Who said Mannix had to know him?
The lack of venom in Mickey’s response gave Mannix reason to pause, take a breath, and respond with significantly less bite. “Well, thank you, then,” he said, fingers drumming on the arm of the chair. “I’m sorry about the effects. I wouldn’t have put you through that if I’d have known what would happen.” And that was as honest as he got. He would have much rather it been a girl, though that he could get that kind of response out of Mickey spoke volumes as to what it might do to someone who was willing to be turned on as well as bitten.
“Yeah, well you’re welcome. I don’t want to do it again,” Mickey said, letting out a sigh, amazed at how easily things changed. It was simple, one simple change of his tone brought Mannix down from his high horse.
“I wouldn’t ask you again,” Mannix said, his lips turning up just slightly. He hadn’t asked Mickey in the first place; Mickey had offered. But that didn’t matter when it came to what might happen, as he knew neither one of them wanted to end up in that position again. “It’s a good perk to know, though. I was wondering why anyone would ever want to let me bite them.”
“I’m sure you would have found someone,” Mickey said, not doubting Mannix in that regard. Something popped into his head though and he was thinking of someone else. He was protective, stupidly protective, about her and despite his attempts to keep his emotions buried deep that slipped up. “Just not...” he nodded towards December’s house.
Mannix might have asked Kenzie, as someone who might have had a bit more trust in him than some of the other girls in the house. He wasn’t exactly eager to share what he was, though, even with this new perk that made biting people enjoyable for the person offering. “She won’t let me in her house,” Mannix said, amused. “I seriously doubt she’d let me bite her.”
Mickey nodded. “Not surprised.” That was good though, that she was keeping a safe bit of distance. He took a step back, towards the hospital and his original destination. “Door’s open if you wait out dawn too much,” he said nodding towards his house before turning to leave.
“I don’t have control yet anyways. I wouldn’t--” Mannix cut himself off, deciding not to share that much with Mickey. It felt too personal for someone that wasn’t really his friend, though he didn’t know what to call him when he was offering his house as an escape from the dawn. He hoped he wouldn’t have to take it, but he appreciated the offer. “Thanks,” he said, leaving it at that.
"Wouldn't what?" Mickey asked despite Mannix holding it back, but instead of accusing his tone was patient, giving Mannix space to speak.
Mannix stared at Mickey for a second, then sighed. He could have snapped back at him, but where was that getting them? It might effectively run Mickey off, but it would leave Mannix in a sour mood as well. He might as well be civil to the man who’d just offered him shelter from the sun. “I wouldn’t risk it with her. You saw how I was. I heard you, but it barely registered.”
Mickey nodded. "I'd rather you not risk it either," he admitted, but his tone wasn't judging. "You are going to have to figure something out though."
“I have,” Mannix said, drumming his fingers again. He was itching for something to do with his hands, but he’d gone through almost every cigarette he had earlier that day. “I’m going to practice on the girls, when my brother can be there to stop me. If I can learn to control it, then we can put it to use at the brothel, for people that are willing.”
Mickey wasn't a fan of Mannix practicing on the girls, but he didn't say as much. Not when he was trying to be civil. It meant cutting out most of his feelings, but it was easier to talk to Mannix when he wasn't being a dick. "You're okay with being used like that?"
Honestly? He wasn’t completely on-board with the idea. He knew why it was a good plan, that it would keep him fed and would be an added bonus to their business, but he didn’t like the idea of people knowing what he was. And he couldn’t bite people without them figuring it out. “I’m signing on to bite them when desired, not sleep with them,” he explained. “And I’m not thrilled, but I need to eat. A little here and there from people that want it is the best option I’ve got.”
Mickey studied Mannix before taking a step forward. "Is it really that different? Isn't it worse? It might not have felt the same to you, but that's not nothing. I don't think it's going to be just an in and out sort of thing. You're a predator, that's how you attract prey. Peddling it seems cheap." It was said gently, just putting the situation in a different light. Mannix could do what he wanted, but Mickey wondered how far the guy had thought it through.
“It’s all in the mindset I go into it with,” Mannix said. “It’s only intimate if I allow it to be. And if I don’t want to do it, I won’t. In that way, I guess it’s the same as what the brothel’s selling. Either way, we’re selling a service, not a connection.” It was something he’d been thinking on much of the day, trying to decide how he felt about it, what the different pros and cons were. It made sense to try it out, at least, and if he didn’t like it, then no one was saying he had to keep doing it.
For an instant Mickey's opinion showed on his features. Call him naive and a romantic sure, but he had a hard time thinking of even sex as not being intimate. It was hard to lie during sex, no matter how much someone wanted to. And weren't people more open with anonymous sex? It was even more intimate than normal. It faded quickly though, to just Mickey nodding. "So long as you're fine with it, what's there to worry about right?" He smiled then took his step back wanting to leave again.
Mannix raised a brow as his head cocked to one side. There was a look there, right before Mickey covered it up, and his words seemed to say the opposite. “You disagree,” Mannix said, prodding Mickey to explain whatever it was he was thinking. He was sure it was more interesting than agreement for the sake of placating him.
"It doesn't matter if I do or not," Mickey said quickly, but smoothly. "It's not me." And he was glad it wasn't.
“No, but I’m curious. Perception’s important, and what you think could easily be what other people think. Do you mean it’s not you being bitten, or not you doing the biting?” Mannix asked, his tone far more conversational than when they’d started. His headache was starting to subside and Mickey was being less abrasive, which helped considerably.
"It's not me being roped into a contract." Mickey didn't want to go into it, but Mannix was asking. Letting out a sigh he moved to sit on the steps of the porch. "I don't agree with how you see it. It is intimate. What services you provide at the brothel are intimate. There's no avoiding it."
“There’s no contract,” Mannix corrected easily. It was his choice who he bit and he could decide not to at any time. That was something he’d already established with his brother. “And I agree with you on some level. Sex will always be intimate just because of what it is, but there are degrees of intimacy. Most people that are willing to pay for sex aren’t looking to connect with the person they’re fucking. In fact, most don’t want to. They want something they can walk away from. For those people, the act is only intimate due to what it is. The people I employ know this. They’re okay with it. I think paying for sex is probably the lowest degree of intimacy you can have, probably one step below screwing someone you’ve just met and won’t see again. I see biting someone about the same, I guess. I think there are times that it can be more than just me feeding, but I’m not sure. I haven’t gotten there.”
Mickey shook his head. "You're thinking of intimacy as love and commitment. I'm not referring to that. That's something different. I agree, there's little of that in paying for it, but the truth, that's the intimacy that surfaces no matter who your partner is. Do you know how hard it is to lie during sex? Why so many people botch lover's names? It's nearly impossible. It takes the excitement out of it. With a stranger, with someone you paid to accept your secrets, why keep them to yourself. You're living out your wildest fantasy. What's more intimate than that. What's more intimate that letting someone in on your darkest secrets, Mannix? Are they really worth a few extra bucks to share what you are, to put yourself at risk? To please someone you barely know?" He ran his hand through his hair. "It's your choice and I won't judge you, but I'm not sure you've thought it through."
Mannix leaned forward as he thought about that, elbows on his knees and fingers laced together. He found himself biting his first finger as he thought about his fangs and December’s initial reaction to them. That was the hardest part to get past, what he was. He doubted someone would enjoy being bitten if they were scared going into it. And then they’d know his secret. “It’s not the money,” he said after a moment. “It’s knowing that I’ll have blood when I need it, that I won’t go hungry. You can fix someone’s roof and get paid, and with that money buy yourself dinner. I won’t ever be able to do that. They aren’t going to sell what I need at the store, so I guess if it comes down to paying someone to let me bite them versus them paying me, I’d rather be the one to get paid. I’d rather them come to me, than end up begging you or Jack or December to feed me. More people have to know, regardless of how I go about it. I’ve done the research on how quickly the body can replenish it’s blood supply. Eight weeks for a pint. That’s four people donating a pint every eight weeks, if I can live on half a pint a week. How much do you think I took from you today?” Mannix had no idea, which almost made it worse. If he had to guess, he’d say somewhere between a fourth and a half a pint, but he wasn’t sure. “I don’t like the idea, but I don’t want to find out what happens when I go too long without feeding either. This seems like a boon.”
“Not much. I wasn’t lightheaded for too long,” Mickey said shaking his head. He looked over at Mannix, not thinking of the man in front of him but of Zania. “Just don’t lie to yourself and tell yourself it’s not intimate. It is. You can’t run away this time. Not from any of us.” Mickey got up again, wincing at the pain in his knee, but doing his best to stand strong on it. The colder weather had been a bitch against the injury. “It’s not just going to be easy. Keep your guard up.”
“What makes you think I run away?” Mannix asked with a small frown. He’d never thought of himself as running away, but rather pushing people away. Running made him sound scared, like he was unable to deal with the consequences of his actions. “My guard’s always up.”
“How long do you stay in one place, normally?” Mickey asked, patience in his voice. “Mine is too. Somewhat. It gets a little easier in here.” But there were still howls off in the distance.
“I’m a trader. I can’t stay in one place if I want to trade. That doesn’t mean I’m running,” Mannix said. He felt trapped in the dome, not because he wanted to leave, but because he couldn’t. “Before the zombies, I lived in New York City. Was born there.” And while he’d dreamed of running away, he’d never dared do more than dream.
Mickey nodded. “Okay.” Maybe he had that wrong, but maybe he did. Maybe Mannix just needed to think about it. “I never went there.”
“It was a beautiful city,” Mannix said, mostly to himself. “Bitch to get out of, but beautiful until it wasn’t.” And dangerous. It had been dangerous before and even more so after. “But why did you think I was running?”
“Just seemed that way,” Mickey said. “Like you’d rather leave than stick around. Maybe I’m wrong.”
Well, he couldn’t argue with the perception. “It used to be safer not to form attachments, even before people started dropping like flies,” Mannix said, his mind on his earlier conversation with Jack. “Things have changed.”
Mickey was silent, biting at his lip. “I hope so. Otherwise it’s going to be harder in here than out there.” Because Mannix couldn’t just walk away.
Mannix wished he could get inside Mickey’s head, just for a second, and get a feel for what he was thinking. So far it had been harder in there, but that was because he’d become a vampire, not because of the relationships he’d formed. He was enjoying those so far. “Despite being a little stir crazy, I have no desire to leave.”
“Good to hear,” Mickey said with a nod, stepping back again. “I’m going to see if I can find her. I’ll let her know you’re here.” Didn’t mean that she’d be there, but he could at least tell her there was a slightly stalkerish vampire waiting on her porch.
Another howl sounded loud in the darkness, followed by a gunshot and Mannix’s jaw tightened. He wasn’t scared of what was out there, but he also didn’t think it was a good night to be wandering around. “Be careful. She’d be pissed if you get yourself killed.”
Mickey shrugged his shoulders. “I haven’t died yet,” he said with a smirk. He wasn’t that cocky, but he at least had a good feeling about his abilities. “But I will do my best to stay out of trouble.”
Mannix was tempted to go with him, but decided against it. He could only tolerate Mickey in small doses and he was fairly certain that Mickey felt the same about him. “It’s not you I’m worried about,” he said, hearing a second gunshot in the night. “See you around.”
Mickey’s eyes went towards the shot, frowning. “I won’t let anything happen to her either,” he said making an assumption. “Or anyone else.” He took a step away then doubled back. “Sleep on the couch come morning. Seems safer.” He didn’t wait for an answer, starting off, limp there with the pain in his step, but not slowing him any more than usual.
The great protector, Mannix thought, shaking his head. Mickey had misunderstood his intention, but he didn’t correct him. He’d meant to imply that trouble might find Mickey and, as much as the guy grated on him, he didn’t wish him harm. Something was out there tonight, something dangerous. It would be better if they all just stayed inside, doors locked tight, but instead he stayed on the porch, waiting, fairly certain he could handle anything that crossed his path tonight.