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j. нarĸer, eѕqυιre (businesslike) wrote in valarlogs,

"Point taken. But do you ever think that's going to really sort of...come back to haunt you? Doesn't it always?" Had it ever been successful, anywhere? The dead were supposed to stay dead. That was the only sure thing in life, death. Well, that and taxes, as the saying went.

The talk of his dreams meant Jonathan was lighting up another cigarette, offering one of his own - they had a different sort of taste to them, kind of a smooth smoke. Some brands were like sticking your head into a chimney. But regardless, he and Victor would be chainsmoking in the corner like the classy fellows they were, until either the party ended or they both decided that enough social interaction was enough.

"So, what's happening is that I'm playing house with a vampire only I don't actually know that yet, and I just had another where I cut myself shaving and he nearly pounced, but surely you're asking, why is this guy watching you shave? I'm also pretty sure he watches me sleep, which is either flattering or creepy, probably the second." Inhale. Thank god for cancer sticks.