Eric Northman (5thareasheriff) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2018-07-30 21:08:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, eric northman, roman godfrey |
WHO: Eric Northman and Roman Godfrey
WHAT: A random meeting
WHERE: A bar
WHEN: Backdated to Saturday, June 9
RATING: Family Friendly
STATUS: Complete
If Roman had known he was on the cusp of a new dream, he would have saved his drinking for another night. As it was, he chose tonight, when he felt Peter’s absence more than most of the time. No matter what, Roman was sure he couldn’t actually hate Peter and that might have been the worst part of it.
Pulling a face, Roman knocked back another shot of whiskey.
He tapped the glass against the bar. The bartender said something about him having enough, but ever since he’d become a monster, Roman couldn’t get drunk enough on the few shots he’d had so far. “Just pour the fucking drink, friend,” he demanded. The bartender sighed, shook his head, and poured Roman’s drink.
After a long day of meetings about zoning and architecture and plumbing and all the other things that went into opening a new bar, Eric had decided that he needed a few drinks. He would be happy when his new place was open and he could simply drink there for free, but until then he would need to shell out some money if he wanted to get drunk or at least get a good buzz going.
That night Eric chose a bar he’d frequented a few times since moving to the OC and had just reached the bar when he overheard the man demanding another drink, “Rough day?” He asked as he flagged down the bartender to get his own drink.
Roman glanced over at the man who’d pared himself close and was talking to him. What was he? A cop? No, not a cop. Roman had met plenty of cops and this wasn’t one of them, unless he was some rookie who hadn’t learned to be obvious yet.
“Do you care?” Roman asked.
Eric was definitely not a cop and while he did tend to mind his own business most of the time, every now and then something caught his attention and he couldn’t help but pry just a little. “Wouldn’t ask otherwise.” Once he acquired his own drink, he put a few bills down on the bar and took a sip as he waited for the other man to respond.
There was something unfamiliar about the way the stranger smelled. Most of the time, Roman could get traces of blood flowing rapidly through peoples’ veins when they looked at him, but this one was different. No, it wasn’t unfamiliarity, it was more like familiarity and that might have been what was a little disarming about him. Roman was never one to ignore red flags, but he was drawn to them, so despite those flags going up everywhere, he answered with a noncommittal shrug. “No more rough than usual.”
Eric had only had a few dreams and as far as the OC was concerned, far from turning like his dream counterpart, but that didn’t necessarily mean that he still smelled entirely human. “And what makes your days so rough?” Eric couldn’t help but be a little curious now.
Roman knocked another drink back. This time, he didn’t ask for another, not yet. Instead, he turned to the stranger, leaning his elbow against the bar beside him. “You want to know what makes my days so rough?” Roman said, his lips firmly pursed into an annoyed line, his eyes unblinking as he stared at the man. “It’s when people I’ve never met come up to me and ask me stupid questions that are none of their business.” That and apparently having a baby he didn’t know was alive or dead in this world, among other things. “I didn’t think you were a cop at first, but now I’m having my doubts,” he added.
Eric sat, unflinching as the other man spoke and simply took a sip of his drink in response. He was silent for a moment or two after before speaking again, “And what would me being a cop have to do with anything? You don’t appear to be doing anything illegal so I’d have no reason to ds bother you if I were a cop.” He quirked a brow at him in question, waiting for him to answer.
“See, that sounds like a cop wanting a confession,” said Roman. He knocked back another drink before the bartender cut him off completely. This time, Roman didn’t argue. He also didn’t leave. They’d have to kick him out and they would in about 3.5 seconds when he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one between his lips.
The bartender shouted at him to get out.
Roman glanced over at the stranger beside him. “You coming?” he asked. The guy seemed so interested to talk to him after all, but if he didn’t follow as Roman got up and began to walk out the door, that was just fine by him. Either way, the guy smelled like about a dozen orgasms and Roman either needed to be closer or needed to get away.
Eric watched the exchange between the other man and the bartender, not exactly surprised when the bartender told the man to leave. What did surprise him though was when the other man spoke to him again, asking if he was coming. He considered simply letting him leave and having another drink, but he would be lying if he said that he wasn’t curious as to exactly what was bothering the other man.
Finishing his drink, Eric left a few extra bucks on the bartop and followed after him, “Get kicked out of a lot of bars?” He asked after a few moments.
Eric wasn’t the only one who was surprised. Roman expected Eric to stay, too, and he raised a brow when Eric did follow him. Alright, maybe he wasn’t a cop since cops were more subtle than that.
Roman gave a shrug. “Not really,” he answered. Most of the time, he was content not to light up or have too many drinks. Tonight just felt different. Tonight, he was restless and becoming thirsty. Eric wasn’t appetizing to Roman and, for that, they were probably both lucky. “Do you dream?” he asked as they walked down the sidewalk. Girls looked at Roman a lot. That was normal. But they were now staring at the pair of them as they walked by.
Eric’s brows rose slightly at the question and considering the way the other man asked it, he could only assume that he didn’t just mean normal, run of the mill dreams. Other than the people he’s spoken to on the Net about the dreams, Eric hadn’t really met a dreamer in public before now.
“I do.” He said after a moment, glancing over at the other man as he waited for his response. Eric was used to women watching him, but he was currently focused on Roman.
Of course, that opened the door for the next question.
“What do you dream about?” Roman asked. He asked because being around the strange man - Eric - felt different. Eric smelled different, held himself different. Vampires were a dime a dozen around here, but if Eric was one, he was also different from the rest.
If Roman was also a dreamer, he clearly didn’t spend too much time on Valar or he primarily went on to read specific posts and didn’t spend too much time on anyone else’s. Otherwise he’d have seen Eric’s posts, “I dream about owning a club.” He watched Roman as he spoke, unaware that he smelled any different than anyone else, “And about being a vampire.”
Eric was correct in his assumptions. For the most part, posts went ignored, unless Roman knew the person. Otherwise, he wasn’t interested. Now he’d have to take an interest, at least in Eric’s ramblings. The revelation, like most vampire revelations, made Roman roll his eyes, but it didn’t really surprise him; he should have deduced what Eric was already.
“What’s with vampires and owning clubs?” he thought aloud. So much for Roman’s assumption that Eric might have been a different sort, like an upir. Roman stopped on their walk under the light of a street lamp and pulled from his cigarette, his eyes catching Eric’s shockingly similar blues. He squinted a little as he let smoke roll out of his nostrils. “If you ever get tired of being another vampire who owns a club, come work for me,” he offered. It was a delicious offer if you asked him. Eric was better than all of the others, Roman knew it.
“It does seem to be a common trend, doesn’t it?” Eric did think it was a coincidence that he owned a club in and out of the dreams, but it made sense in a way. At the offer, Eric’s brows rose slightly, “And what is it that you do? And do you always offer jobs to strangers you meet at bars?” He couldn’t help but smirk a little bit. Eric had also noticed the slight resemblance between them, but wasn’t about to think too hard on it, considering all the other crazy things he’d seen since moving to Orange County.
“When they can do better than a nightclub, yes.” Roman didn’t really know if Eric would want to do better than the Beautiful Vampire Owns a Nightclub trope, but the offer was there. Roman took his wallet from his back pocket and produced his card from it. Godfrey Industries was well known and Roman was the CEO. He could do whatever he wanted. “I could use a good assistant or a good consultant, maybe both,” he offered. “Think about it.” Eric could still even own his silly nightclub, but he wouldn’t have to serve drinks anymore if he didn’t want to.
It was an interesting offer, but Eric had never really seen himself in any sort of office job. Regardless, he took the card that Roman offered him, if for no other reason than to finally find out what the other man’s name was. Somehow the name Roman fit the other man to a T, “And do you usually offer jobs to people you’ve just met?”
“You just asked me that,” Roman pointed out. “Don’t make me regret the offer.” With that, Roman pitched his well smoked cigarette to a small puddle between some cracks in the pavement. He gestured to the card. “Call me when you’re ready,” he advised, then gave a sniffle as if he were jonesing to put something up his nose. As a cab neared, Roman held his hand out for it. “Need a ride?” he asked.
So he had. Eric would admit that he was rather thrown by Roman’s actions so he may not have been keeping track of what he had been saying. “Thank you, but I don’t live too far from here.” Eric’s apartment was only a couple blocks from the bar, so he was perfectly alright with walking back, “I’m Eric Northman, by the way. It was nice meeting you, Roman.”