Who: Demon Slaying BFFs Jonathan & Zelda What: Legal advice and vampire discussions over sushi and wine. When: Friday Night! (just posted a bit early~) Where: Insert Sushi Restaurant Name Here Rating/Warnings: Relatively low, but some talk about murder and vampirism? Status: Complete!
International Law was a very broad, very intense subject. The main reaches being, of course, United Nations protocols, legal precedents of the World Court, treaties, and so forth - but it also had to do with legal interactions between businesses and their rights and responsibilities when it came to those dealings. Along with estate succession in an international situation, meaning, inheriting from a decedent in a foreign country. That was what Jonathan planned to zero in on, for Zelda - he didn’t know the details of her personal situation yet, but she was one of his closest friends and he was going to do everything he could for her. Thus, the details would come. He would go over everything, all the reading material he’d highlighted for her to focus on the pertinent parts and a rough draft of a timeline and schedule, and he had it all stacked in an organized pile, clipped and set into a folder for the ease of convenience.
Maybe he was a little anal retentive. But this had been the first thing in awhile that made him feel like he was himself - like he didn’t have to be the madman who had narrowly escaped with his life by scaling a castle’s walls, fueled by adrenaline and fury, who had collapsed in a convent with the world completely tilted off its axis, shattered into pieces. He didn’t want to be shattered here anymore.
She’d mentioned she wanted plum wine so he got them a bottle, and it was there while he waited for her, hands wiped with the hot towel, returned to the basket, chopsticks separated and in their holder. And he drummed long fingers on the closed, leather-bound menu, green eyes somewhat distant because he was focused on the task at hand. The focus helped too. He needed that.
Impa was going to kill her. Kill. Her. Which is why Zelda would keep her plotting under wraps, pinched pennies in every possible corner to save up, even if it meant working two jobs, maybe three if things escalated to the point of desperation. They hadn’t, not yet, but she was older now - not a little girl that needed coddling and protection, and soon Impa had to come to terms with that, too.
“A bottle,” was her pleasant gasp of surprise, practically cooing. “Now I might shed a tear instead!” Plum wine wasn’t that alcoholic. They’d be fine. Though for the eventual conversation, something with a bit more bite may be ordered. Depending how things go. And depending how her nerves handled discussing the entire ordeal, making what was a plan brewed over time an actual reality. Zelda settled across from him, breathing in deeply. “Thanks for meeting me, by the way.”
“Of course, anytime.” Jonathan pushed a menu toward her way, then splashed a bit of that honey-colored ambrosia into Zelda’s glass - they’d kill this bottle pretty quickly, most likely, but he wouldn’t be opposed to something a bit stronger if the need called for it. Sake, maybe. Or straight up whiskey. Just as long as he didn’t get plastered again because... “At least my pants are on this time?”
He grinned sheepishly; poking fun of his debauchery was easy now, long after the hangover had passed. “Alright, so you - “ He tipped the edge of his wine glass in her direction, an acknowledgment of sorts, “...want to talk about inheriting a company, is that it? Maybe tell me what the situation is and I can figure out where to start.” Whether that be estate succession, where the assets were, or taxation - he would sort of jump in, but simply needed a point where it was safe to do so.
She did notice that he was actually properly clothed this time around, yes. No previous games that involved clothing removal and copious drinking that left him plastered and onto the road of having his head down a toilet. He seemed...fine, for now. She’d have to poke him a bit later. Maybe have him talk to her in a more sober mindset.
Purse pulled off her shoulder, she tucked in beneath the table with her feet and opened up the moist towelette. “Ahhhh…” Zelda visibly winced. “It’s a bit...messy. My father ran a big energy conglomerate in Europe. England, actually.” No names yet, this wasn’t anything outright official, but she thought it be best to start testing out the legal waters and see what her options were. Practice, perhaps, for the lawyer-to-be? “All he talked about was eventually leaving it to me, down the road, so he could retire properly. It was written in legal documents, notarized, the works. He began working with a very, very suspicious man that soon rose to be his second hand, and the next thing I know, my home was invaded. My father killed. My nanny whisked me away to safety because I’d been next, and when the dust settled, the second hand rose to the top seat and my nanny framed for murder. I was reported missing, then proclaimed dead. We fled to the states when I was twelve, and this terrible man is still in charge of my father’s empire.”
A bit of a mouthful, that was! Now she felt a bit uncomfortable, and grabbed her glass to take a plentiful gulp of wine.
Awkward shifty-eyes commence.
Oh. Oh. That was...that was a lot, yes. Jonathan’s eyebrows lifted to his hairline, just about, but he nodded - a murmur to himself, rummaging within his various concise-and-organized folder stack to sift through papers. He knew where everything was, it was tabbed and color coded and labelled, thank you very much. “An interesting situation,” he said, reaching into his jacket pocket to find a pen as well. And thus began the act of note-taking and jotting things down - also diagram making, for visual aid purposes.
“Essentially, there are two broad sects of International Law. It can be broken down into Public or Private, with Public being laws and customs that deal with conflicts between entire nations. Private, however, is handling disputes between citizens of different nations, and it sounds like this is where we need to go. There are laws and agreements which govern international business transactions and, like you indicated, everything was notarized and put into writing prior to your father’s death, but...we’re also talking criminal prosecution here because are you saying this man had your father killed?”
Blink, blink. That threw a monkey wrench into things, but Jonathan would handle it.
He was already making notes, and figuring out how to alter the drafted timeline. “We’re going to need to gather evidence. Documents. Everything related to the company - contracts, import and export info, trade, and so forth. Because what I’m thinking is, for one, proving that whomever this - “ Jackass, “...person is, he’s not honoring international agreements and secondly, showing your own claim to the company.”
Oh, dear. Oh, my. Oh, fuck. Much too vulgar for her tastes even if it was only internal dialogue, but that was a lot of things he ricocheted back at her. A dizzying amount of information which made her guzzle the rest of the drink in her glass, turned a second pour a complete reality.
A tiny, screaming sliver of her voice that this was a terrible idea. This would be a hassle, would probably takes years to resolve and what if they’d make Impa a target? Or arrest Impa, for that matter? Anyone dug a little too deep and they could probably find some suspicious things surrounding the woman, but her damn nanny had a heart of gold. A shady past, but she’d raised and saved Zelda. Rather successfully.
“My gut tells me he had a thing to do with it, yes - not sure if he did it personally or hired people, or…I don’t know. As for the documents, contracts, I don’t - I don’t have any of it. We couldn’t grab much?” Zelda at least had her birth certificate, which at least was a document of her identity. Bird parents named, tying her to her father, something that was authentic. “Be honest, first and foremost. How...impossible does this case sound, really? Is this a bad idea? Is this just going to, quite bluntly, bite me in the ass?”
Jonathan shook his head, passing the menu off to the waitress so the order could be put into the sushi chef - spicy tuna roll and Hawaiian roll, bring on the garlic. He’d just have to brush his teeth six-hundred times and dip himself in bleach before he could be around his crabby vampire, but he actually liked garlic sometimes. “It’s not a bad idea,” he assured Zelda, with a gentle sort of firmness. “The company is rightfully yours. And it’s not even just about the company, it’s about honor and family legacy and everything. No matter how long it takes, I’ll be with you to get it all finished and we’ll see it through.” He wasn’t one to break his promises either.
“As for the documents, we can get them, don’t worry.” Quickly, he underlined a passage on one of his readings, with the correct statute marked. “Since he’s not a resident of the United States, he wouldn’t be required to respond to a subpoena, however, documents can be compelled from a non-party witness in foreign countries. Or - “ Jonathan looked up with a smile, “We’ll just go to England and make like spies to get copies.” No big deal!
Miso soup, salmon avocado and a crunchy roll were her selections - with a side of eel sauce, a lot of it, please. Now that the waitress skedaddled, Zelda could feel a little more at ease. She didn’t think paranoia would hit her the way it did but heavens, it felt suffocating. “I don’t even know what I’d do with a company,” she confessed, pinching the bridge of her nose and willing away an upcoming headache. “It’s--I want justice. I want it done fairly. I want whoever did this put away and Impa’s name to be cleared. Honestly, if someone with a better business mind wanted to run it, I’ll be very okay with that, as long as they’re not murderers.”
She didn’t even know what she’d do with money anyway. It wasn’t a lifestyle she was used to anymore, she could very much do without it. It was all about being fair. Which was a losing battle, maybe, with business politics, and maybe Zelda’s vision was too rose-tinted, but was it really much to ask for?
“We just began demon slaying, Jonathan. Baby steps. I’m sure we can eventually reach the ‘spy’ level though. It’s very good to set goals,” she jested with a chuckle. “And, so you know, Impa doesn’t know I’ve got plans to pursue this. Not yet. It puts her at a very uncomfortable position. She may resort to disciplining me with a wooden spoon again, for all I know.”
Not the wooden spoon! “We can work under her radar, then,” he laughed, taking another sip of wine. And replenishing Zelda’s, because it looked like she had nervously drank the contents of her glass in a couple quick gulps. He understood, however; this was a big deal for her, it was going to be life-changing no matter how it ended up. And he would do everything he could to ensure that it worked out in her favor.
“I’m sorry to hear about your father though.” Jon’s look was genuine in its sympathy, eyes a grassland green. “But knowing what I do about you, I would say...there needs to be more minds for business like yours.” Smart, but also with the key components of humanity and a heart - it was a lot to take on, but if she decided to do it, then she’d be great at that too.
Zelda had seen her father in dreams - he’d been the King of Hyrule in these ‘alternate realities,’ almost the same in every way it counted. A very bittersweet thing to experience. She mourned him here and sometimes still did. It’s not as if she could attend the funeral or visit his grave. All she had was, well…
Memories. Dreams.
“It’s okay,” she half-smiled, miso soup delivered. She did the motions of scooping up the tofu and seaweed, then dumping them, then scooping them again. “I don’t care about the money. I’d probably be a much nicer employer if I’d taken the reigns, but as long as there’s accountability for everything that’s happened, I’ll be happy.” Otherwise she’d wallow in regret and she couldn’t, wouldn’t, do that to herself.
Then, somewhat of an awkward pause. “If you--if you could, after passing your exam, would...you be able to…I suppose ‘represent’ would be the word. Would you represent me? Is that too much to ask? You could say no, if you’re not comfortable, but...I trust you to not be bought out, if you did.” Like someone going behind her back, trying to hide the mess, paying him off to look the other way - it was a very possible thing she’d rather avoid.
Bought out? The look on Jonathan’s face expressed his disdain for the idea. No, that certainly wasn’t him. Zelda couldn’t have picked a better attorney (or would-be attorney) to represent her, because he was all about accountability. He was diligent and devoted to the practice and study of law, but also without the greed and dollar signs in his eyes - that was why he’d selected International Law anyway. Rights for the people.
“I’d be honored,” he smiled a little. “To represent you, Zelda. We’ll get everything organized and ready, and then after I pass the bar it will become official.” He was finished with law school, classes and such, and simply had to complete the internship at the consulate that was essentially his ‘clinical.’ But as of now, he was mostly prepping for the beast of an exam where the average score was about 67% of the answers correct. He intended to surpass that.
The sushi arrived soon after the soup did, plates of intricately rolled raw fish, seaweed, rice. He picked up his chopsticks to add some wasabi to the little dish of soy sauce. “It’s going to work out, you’ll see. I’ll give you some things to go over, small things, whenever you have a chance. We’ll build everything up and then when it’s time to go to court we’ll be ready.”
Jonathan seemed to have confidence in this entire thing. It was contagious. Eased that uncertainty and shot nerves about it all, even if there’d been guilt about keeping Impa in the dark for the moment. This was something that needed to be done. A mantra she kept repeating to herself, over and over. Justice for her father. For Impa. For her.
“Thank you,” she sighed out, relieved. “Really. I don’t know how easy this would be, but it’s comforting to know that I have a friend who’s helping, who knows exactly what he’s doing.”
Zelda’s appetite had been a bit stalled at the topic of discussion; it was very nerve wrecking initially, but the smell of soup dragged out the hunger and she plucked the wooden utensils, dumping the first roll into the dish of eel sauce. “You seem to be doing a bit better from the previous night. Your friend - he took care of you?”
“I’m sure it won’t be easy but the important things never are,” Jonathan sighed, and he supposed that was a good segue into answering Zelda’s question anyway. “But that doesn’t stop us, right?” Rhetorical question, though hopefully the answer was no regardless. He picked up the wine glass, taking a hit from the nectar of the gods - plum wine was sweet, but he actually sort of liked it. It went well with sushi, mostly because it covered the fishiness. “I suppose I’m a little better. It helped to focus on - “ A gesture toward the documents he’d prepared, “...all of this.”
Law was his life, his thing. It kept him tethered to the Earth, which was sorely necessary at this moment in time. “He did, yes, in his own way,” Jonathan chuckled. “It’s...difficult now. For both of us. He plays a prominent role in my dreams and it’s not really all that good but we agreed to go through it all together in the present. Still, that doesn’t mean I accept everything without question or complaint, and some days we’re snappy with each other, but,” he picked up a spicy tuna roll with the chopsticks, “We’ll just keep working through it.”
Nothing in this world worth having ever came easy, did it? There’d always be some kind of struggle, yet that’s something she looked at with positive light. The whole ‘what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger’ line that was completely cliche but also completely true. “I’m sure what’s left of my family problems should keep you busy enough as time passes,” Zelda giggled. A silver lining, she supposed.
First eel sauce slathered sushi popped into her mouth, she listened whilst chewing, and noted the very interesting fondness (whether he realized it or not) that he spoke about this friend of his. “It’s one of those ‘it’s complicated’ things, you’re saying? Who is he to you, in the dreams?”
Someone who shared the same altered reality, that must be something! Impa was in hers, though she didn’t experience the whole thing. Probably best that way for the time being. But Vlad had hinted at feeling responsible for Jonathan in some way, so it made sense there was some kind of connection there.
It’s complicated. Yes, that about summed it up. “Dracula,” Jonathan said, and it wasn’t like that was a secret - none of it was really a secret, and Vlad had been very outright on the network about what and who he was. “Hence the complication. And why some of that residual anger carries over - I just can’t help it. I’m trying. We both are. It’s just...I’m only human, and so is he, for the most part.”
The biggest fear was that he would lose Vlad as a person - the humanity and the personality he had come to know and care about; as he transitioned, there would of course be the undeniable changes. The lust for blood, and not even simply a taste for it but a need for it to survive. The immortality. Would he live forever? It was a daunting prospect for his very human partner to grasp. But the important parts. The parts that were more man than monster, what would become of those? Jonathan would just have to be there, and they’d take it as it occurred.
Dracula? Oh, hell. Zelda’s eyes did visibly widen because didn’t he just have a dream about that vampire holding him hostage, making him go insane? That’s the entire reason why he drank himself to oblivion and--
“I see,” she said, washing down rice-wrapped fish with the wine. There was a concern, but she felt as if that were the natural reaction to the news. Sugar and everything nice, a protective streak was still very much present in regards to her friends. “I know we’ve got vampires around. Regular people that became one because of the dreams - do you...think that will happen to him, too?”
The reaction was perfectly natural; Jonathan couldn’t blame her. Dracula was a flesh and blood nightmare, cold skin, a demon. Vlad was...he wasn’t that. He would struggle to not become that, but in the end he would win and Jonathan knew that too. “It’s already happened. Some of it,” he clarified, swirling one of the Hawaiian rolls in the soy sauce dish, to really coat it, and then pop the rolled raw fish into his mouth. And continued after swallowing.
“He doesn’t have a reflection, or a shadow. His senses are...enhanced, he’s nocturnal. He has fangs. And an aversion to garlic, holy relics, things like that. I’m sure the rest will come.” When it did, there would be no magical cups either - that wasn’t Vlad, and the very thought of it was ludicrous. “It’s not like he really welcomes it. Admittedly it’s...a tough spot to be in.”
Jonathan being so involved with someone that could turn into that was...well, honestly, it was very unsettling, and she rightfully worried. All those things Dracula had done in those dreams had taken an obvious toll, a reaction that seeped through reality and Zelda had caught a glimpse of it. And didn’t like it.
Such news to be dropping onto the table, on each behalf. Their outings together were always quite interesting, weren’t they? “Seems like that’s one obstacle you need to tackle once it gets here, and you seem prepared for it when it comes. I’m not exactly well-versed in vampirism,” Zelda sighed, giving her chopsticks a rest on her plate. “And I don’t want to really romanticize it, but maybe he’ll just need someone to keep him grounded. To be there and remind him that there’s more than just…Dracula? To lose themselves to someone they don’t even want to become, this place can’t be that much of an asshole, can it?”
Excuse her French, but.
Oh hell no. Jonathan wouldn’t romanticize it either. It wasn’t that, at all, and he couldn’t - he wouldn’t - let the cycles simply repeat anew. Who he started out as, at the beginning of his trip to Transylvania (a young and fresh lawyer, brimming with life and possibilities) and who he ended up as (jaded, bitter, sullen, with a permanent shock-white reminder) were two completely different people. The Jonathan Harker in the here and now would lash out with a lightning strike of fury against any vampire, any person, who tried to hold him hostage.
But he could be there. As support. Not as something to control, or keep, but more an equal.
“That’s the idea,” he agreed with Zelda, reaching into his pocket to snag his wallet so he could pay for sushi and wine. His treat, since she had already saved his inebriated self and he dropped an anvil on her today at the table. “I’m really hoping this place isn’t that much of an asshole. It’s definitely one, but we’re just bigger assholes. You know what I mean.” They were stronger.
“That’s the most endearing way to ever be called an asshole, I think,” she smirked, because yes, she knew what he meant. If he wanted to dish out the funds for tonight, she supposed that was alright - otherwise they’d be one of those very horrendously cliche people playing tug-o-war with the check and nothing would be done. Whenever their next outing took place, it’d simply be her turn.
Leftovers boxed, purse retrieved, Zelda pulled the straps over her shoulders and walked with him out the door, side-by-side. A little vampire talk to discuss without a crowd surrounding them, eavesdropping and making conclusions of their mental stability, or whether or not they read too much Twilight. “Well, he contacted me after I dropped you off, and he seems nice enough here. Maybe distant, but he was glad you were brought back safely. He was obviously concerned.”
“He’s not really forthcoming with emotions - closed off, I think? Some people wear theirs on their sleeves, some don’t. But concerned, yes, I’m sure he was,” Jonathan chuckled wryly. Outside, he flipped through a few of the stacks of paper he had balanced in his grip, against his chest, glancing at the tops to make sure this was what he wanted, and he pulled free the prize. “Before I forget! Here, take these. Just some reading material about estate succession and things of that nature. I highlighted the important parts.”
The stack handed to Zelda, and he hoped it wouldn’t be too daunting - mostly, he’d started with some easier to read documents, things that weren’t so bogged down with legalese. The statutes and other technical jargon, he would handle, and organize everything in a concise way so that it made sense. But he believed where they were now was a good place to begin.
Oh, homework! Zelda would take those very appreciatively if it brought her up to speed on how things worked a bit more succinctly because, again, she wasn’t the one with the law education. “Thaaaaaaank you,” she quipped gratefully, wrapping him into a hug.
That was a little short lived, because riding past them - slowly - were bikers in leather jackets, patches and cigarettes, whistling and honking and being so inappropriately boisterous.
With a lone sock on a stick, waved like a flag.
“Ummmmm…Jonathan?”
Oh, geez. He nearly jumped out of his skin, not because of the hug (that was returned) but rather because those bikers. From the bar where he’d gotten completely obliterated, where Zelda so gallantly swooped in to his rescue and ensured that her royal flush in the poker game won his trousers back. How the hell did they even...??
One palm came up to appropriately cover his face, yes, this situation most certainly did call for the patented palm-to-face reaction anyway. “At least it’s not my pants?”