Who: Mavis and R. What: Meeting of the (sort of) undead. When: May 18. Where: Out for coffee. Rating: Low (talk of zombies and vampires). Status: Complete.
Roger couldn’t help but be sort of fascinated by Mavis’ situation. It was probably because he knew it could be him as soon as tomorrow, he figured, and it was comforting to think that at least they could have some sort of support system in each other.
Not that Mavis came off like she needed a support system. She was definitely handling things better than he thought he would, but either way they’d decided to actually meet, and he just hoped he didn’t embarrass himself.
Mavis was lucky to have friends and family who’d accepted her changes, and were helping her to do do the same. She was still learning, but she felt passionate about supporting others like her, who were dealing with the effects of their dreams, whether physical or psychological. Roger seemed like a nice guy, and she hoped he wouldn’t wake up without a heartbeat, but if he ever did, she would be there for him.
Of course, it wouldn’t hurt to get to know him before any changes set it.
Coffee seemed to ease social situations for him, so it had eventually been decided that coffee would be good. He fiddled with his phone while he waited, trying not to be nervous, because he didn’t really have any reason to be. He just was. But when he saw Mavis, he set his phone aside and smiled, giving her a wave.
“Hi.”
“Hi!” She smiled as she approached his table and went to sit down with him. “I’m Mavis. You must be Roger!” The tips of her fangs peeked out between her lips just slightly, and she stuck out her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Roger did a really good job of not staring at the fangs. Instead, he shook her hand and shrugged. “Yep. That’s me. And you too. The meeting you is nice.”
“How are you?” she asked, settling back in her seat. “You look well.” He was cute, too. Not that she was looking, but she noticed. She noticed that he didn’t stare, either, that was nice.
“Good. I mean, alive, so that’s a bonus.” He cracked a smile, then frowned. “Sorry - that wasn’t rude or anything, was it?”
“No,” Mavis said, letting out a soft giggle. “I mean, I am a vampire, but I’m not the kind that has to die and come back in order to become a vampire. In my dreams, I was born this way.” She rolled her eyes a little. “Don’t ask me how Dracula managed to sire a biological child, just roll with it!”
She shrugged, and smiled her pointy little smile. “I’m glad you still have a pulse,” she said, “And not just because I vant to drink your blood,” she added with an over-the-top Transylvanian accent. “I much prefer tomato juice.”
He snorted a little bit. At least she had a sense of humour about it, and that was good. Roger lived in constant fear these days over offending someone about their dreams.
“Dracula, huh? So you’re like - monster royalty, then. That’s pretty cool.” He laughed. “Maybe we can get a whole gang of ghouls together. Start a clubhouse.”
“I guess so,” she said, smiling. “And that’s not a bad idea. We could use a support group, or something. I think Drac was planning on doing something similar, in my dreams. I’m a little fuzzy on the details though.” She shrugged. “I just don’t want anyone to think I’m starting some kind of vampire supremacy movement, or that I view people as nothing more than food.”
“People are friends, not food?” Roger chimed in helpfully, before laughing. “It’s just … Weird. Being on that side of things, isn’t it? I mean, do you ever start feeling a bit sympathetic for them? I made a joke to someone about how I’m gonna be that guy at zombie movies who keeps going ‘They mean well’ or whatever. It wasn’t really well received. "
"I don't know," she said, "I guess I can see both sides, but any decent human being with a shred of empathy could do that. A lot of vampires in popular fiction are just self important little divas with too much power and I don't want to be like that. With great power comes great responsibility, you know?"
“Yeah. I know. I guess we’ll need to see where these dreams take us then. Maybe we’ll end up being surprised.”
Mavis smiled, and reached out to give his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. He was a good guy, she could just sense it. All he needed was to know somebody had his back. “I guess we will.”
“I mean. Trust me, I’ve seen the way zombie me is around things. I can’t in good faith believe he’s like. Bad.” Roger snorted. “I mean. What are you like in your dreams?”
"Me? I'm three years old, tiny, adorable, and obsessed with candy. So..." She shrugged. "Hard to say what she'll be like when she grows up, but she has the potential to be hugely powerful. Or a huge pain in the neck!" Why yes, that pun was completely intentional.
“Wow. Three and obsessed with candy. Really terrifying, that is.” He looked amused. “Funny. And, uh, what’s Dracula like, then?”
“Really.” She grimaced. It meant she knew almost nothing about herself, or what she would become, except to extrapolate from what she’d seen of Dracula. “He’s very driven, almost obsessive,” she said, “In an overprotective father kind of way. He’d probably rip the throat out of anybody who tried to mess with me. Not unlike my own father, I suppose. Though he taught me to do my own karate chopping.”
“I could believe that,” he said, in regards to the throat ripping comment. “At least you can watch yourself grow up? That’s bound to be interesting.”
“True,” she said, smiling. “I’ll be sure and let you know how it turns out. And I hope things work out for you.”
“Fingers crossed.” And just to prove his point, Roger held up his crossed fingers. “I mean. It’s hard to imagine a lot of stuff that can be horrible and awful from a zombie’s perspective.”
Mavis crossed her fingers on both hands in agreement. It was probably worse for him when he woke up and his conscience kicked in--she didn’t figure many zombies were quite that self-aware. If he was, though, that would make him pretty special. “Whatever happens,” she promised, “I’ve got your back.”
“Thanks,” he said, “and ditto. Same for you and all.”