The man announced himself by shoving Jameson's feet off of a desktop workspace, which had the simultaneous effect of making the vampire immediately rouse from his half asleep state, and sending his laptop flying towards the floor. In the next several seconds, a few things occurred. First, Jameson, who had been having a pretty pleasant dream about scoring an awesome antique urn from a museum, immediately woke up and was faced not with a stack of high red fifty notes, but with the prospect of an expensive (if abused) piece of technology shattering. He then lunged forward to try and grab it, which would have been effective had he not been also cocooned in a layer of blankets, which he naturally tripped over. Then Chase caught the computer by its spine, holding the object in the shape of a wide 'v'. And Jameson's face planted against a chest hard.
"You know, **** you." Said the vampire, though his voice was muffled by the expensive cut of a suit jacket.
That was just how Chase dressed. He was always in a suit of some kind. Usually the colors were dark, either navy or a deep, nearly black grey, but sometimes he wore Matlock light grey, beige, or a delicate shade of blue. He called them 'daywear'. Jameson felt it was all very pretentious. He shoved at a chest, and his wiry arms shouldn't have had the ability to do much more than muss a recently pressed white button down. Chase was forced back a step, and Jameson groggily grabbed for the laptop, which he missed by about a half inch. He then closed one eye, as if he was trying to aim a firearm, and swiped again, this time nabbing the object of his attention.
He kicked the blankets from around his ankles, so that the folds spread open and he was able to flop back into his seat, which was shaped vaguely like a teacup a section of the cup part missing. It was one of those pieces of furniture that one does not so much sit on, as sink into the depths of. Well worn in, he had found it on the side of the road and febreezed it. Good as new.
That was when Chase straightened the line of his suit. The man was about as opposite Jameson as a person could possibly be. For one, his hair was dark, not the muddy brown of Jameson's own locks, but a deep black with so much depth that it seemed to have blue highlights from time to time. His eyes were green and grey, like cloudy jade, and under the weight of his brow, they were like lasers. He also had a chin butt and strong jaw, which were emphasized by immaculately groomed face pubes. Muscular from years of athletic achievement, Jameson was determined not to find him attractive in the slightest. It should have been impossible to be both classically handsome and also exotically hot. Guys like that, the vampire felt, were assholes just for existing.
Of course, it was Chase's appearance that had won him many a heart, and why his early morning show was so popular. Ultimately, it was the human's connections to the media, local news stations, and his many fans that made him useful to Jameson. So. He wasn't about to complain too much. That had been the plan after Jameson had dismissed Dr. Ozymandias. Find someone with a bit of clout.
"Despite the rumors, I only swing that way if I've got a few beers in me." Came the calculated yet smooth response.
Jameson just shot him a withering look and pulled his laptop properly open to get a good look at what he'd been doing. Per the meeting with the MC a few days before, the allurist had been going through days worth of footage to collect car makes and models, along with license plates, and as many clear images of faces as he could manage. It was rewarding work, or he assumed it would be once he finally sent everything off in a tidy package. However, it was also extremely boring. Thankfully he was in the final stages, and just needed to go through all the stills he'd captured to make sure there were no redundancies.
Chase moved closer, undoing a button on his jacket so he could sit on the edge of a desk (which Jameson wasn't actually using). One leg was left slanted so a foot could remain in contact with the ground, and the other dangled to show off expensive shoes. Fingers wove together and rested above the knee. Jameson could feel eyes on him and he glanced up. Grunted. "What?" He finally asked.
"Just watching you. I'm supposed to be doing your bidding, aren't I?" For a split second, the veneer of the charming, toothy man flinched out of the way to reveal something more aggressive, with sharper teeth and pointed ears. Jameson felt the slightest chill. In another life, Chase wouldn't have given Jameson the time of day - and that wasn't some high school sentiment like "Oh, they don't know I exist"; it was more complex than that. Men like Chase were used to always having power, always being in control. Publicly, Chase was charismatic, intelligent, articulate. He could say something and it went from being words to being the voice of a generation. Jameson suspected the private version of the same man was less glorified.
"I thought you hated being seen in this part of town." Jameson said, as he went back to typing away at the keyboard, bringing up images, storing some in a file, tossing others into the trash.
"It's growing on me." He said, the words brisk yet dismissive. Chase reached out then and tapped lightly at the very top of the laptop's edge. "I also put together that story you wanted. The gang war between the Lionelli and the Triads. I won't lie though, getting my fingers on the evidence from my police contact was a little tricky."
Jameson glanced up again, this time focusing on a fingertip on his computer. "And the cops are for sure leaning that direction?"
"Sure." Came the answer.
"Nothing yet to implicate the Nightlords in any of it?"
"Not at all."
"Great, I need you to pull the story."
"What?" The word was sharp.
"Look, I just think doing an exposé might be a little much. At some point, all the fingers pointing in one direction are going to look suspicious to someone."
"Yeah, we call those UFO-chasing, crackpots."
"I said no."
"It will look odd if we don't report on it. Especially if there are police leads going in that direction. Do you know how ******* big this whole thing is? Multiple gangs trying to snap up whole tracts of Harper Rock, and consolidate power bases. If you think that won't hit the news, and soon, you're wrong. At least if it's me, I can offer you and your motor club a media shield to operate without too many eyes on you."
There was a low sound that came from Jameson then, that was a lot like an irritated dog giving a half growl. "Fine. Just keep your ear to the ground, and if anything comes your way about the club, let me know immediately. Actually, we have a lawyer now. Name's Wilson, he'll be..."
"...in the yellow pages."
"On Google."
"Right, right."
"Anyway, it may be important for you to build some sort of professional relationship with him in the future, so drop whoever you have as your current legal council and pay his retainer." Surprisingly there was no real argument there.
Jameson compressed the file and then transferred it over to a portable USB. He then capped it at the port end and handed it off to the thrall. "You can take this to him when you go. Just say it's from Jameson, and he should know what it's about. If you need to, you can explain the nature of our relationship."
"Relationship?" The word was spoken with practiced ease, and there was the subtlest shift in the way the human sat, which caused his pants to abruptly pull snug against a thigh. The result was a sizable bulge that made Jameson more uncomfortable than anything. He closed his laptop and shoved it onto the desk before stretching. He stood up so he could avoid looking at Chase.
"You know what I mean." He muttered before he lowered a hand to scratch at his side, then he began to amble off in the direction of the kitchen. Somewhere along the way, Chase stood, buttoned his jacket and followed.
"You know I would have thought being ingratiated to a vampire..." Ingratiated was the term Chase used to describe his slavery "… might have been a sexier experience."
"You've been reading too much Rice."
"Alas, fiction is once again superior to reality."
"Thanks." Came a biting response, as Jameson poured himself a mug of coffee and then one for his thrall. Chase took it up and drank it black. Jameson couldn't stand coffee without enough creamer to both cool it, and make it a closer to a tan color.
"You know you're eventually going to have to either turn me or let me die." The human said conversationally. Like the two had talked about the same subject a dozen times. "That's the end game isn't it?"
"Maybe." The vampire replied after a shot of caffeine.
"I'd just rather you do it before my looks begin to go."
"Bit late for that, isn't it?" Jameson asked. And for a second, that mask Chase wore disappeared, only it wasn't a beast hiding underneath this time. The expression of hurt dissipated as quickly as it appeared, and Jameson felt like a dick.
"You haven't even been my human for a year." He began as he put his mug down, twisting so he could take a step closer to Chase. His hand lifted. He felt stubble on his palm for a moment. He felt smooth, thick hair under his fingers. The human was guarded. Jameson could tell he had done something wrong. Normally he wouldn't have cared, but Chase was his. He had a certain responsibility to 'try'. "You may know more about the world, and everything else that happens in the daylight hours, but this is what I know. This is my strength. You'll earn your fangs, and your eternal youth, and your immortality, but hold onto your life while you have it. Once it's gone, you'll miss it."
Chase's features softened for a moment and Jameson had no clue if the words sank in, or if they were accepted as trite. Either way, the thrall stepped away towards the door. "I'll call you later." He said. "What's your current number?"
Jameson gave him the number, and then Chase fled, to deliver the necessary information to Wilson. He plucked his mug back up and took another sip. His phone vibrated on the counter where he left it to charge most days. Plucking it up, he noted the latest text, which appeared to be the image of a middle finger, which was perfectly manicured, carefully tanned. The background was an expensive car and Chase's cheesy 'camera' smile.
Despite the rumors, I only swing that way if there are a few beers in me. He texted back.
"Asshole." He said out loud. Good naturedly.
Then he sent off a text to Wilson: Sending those images your way by proxy. Any headway on tracking down the big boss man? Phone me if you want to meet or something. We just need some leads. Vic and I can do the fieldwork." He hit send, and went back to his evening routine.
"You know, **** you." Said the vampire, though his voice was muffled by the expensive cut of a suit jacket.
That was just how Chase dressed. He was always in a suit of some kind. Usually the colors were dark, either navy or a deep, nearly black grey, but sometimes he wore Matlock light grey, beige, or a delicate shade of blue. He called them 'daywear'. Jameson felt it was all very pretentious. He shoved at a chest, and his wiry arms shouldn't have had the ability to do much more than muss a recently pressed white button down. Chase was forced back a step, and Jameson groggily grabbed for the laptop, which he missed by about a half inch. He then closed one eye, as if he was trying to aim a firearm, and swiped again, this time nabbing the object of his attention.
He kicked the blankets from around his ankles, so that the folds spread open and he was able to flop back into his seat, which was shaped vaguely like a teacup a section of the cup part missing. It was one of those pieces of furniture that one does not so much sit on, as sink into the depths of. Well worn in, he had found it on the side of the road and febreezed it. Good as new.
That was when Chase straightened the line of his suit. The man was about as opposite Jameson as a person could possibly be. For one, his hair was dark, not the muddy brown of Jameson's own locks, but a deep black with so much depth that it seemed to have blue highlights from time to time. His eyes were green and grey, like cloudy jade, and under the weight of his brow, they were like lasers. He also had a chin butt and strong jaw, which were emphasized by immaculately groomed face pubes. Muscular from years of athletic achievement, Jameson was determined not to find him attractive in the slightest. It should have been impossible to be both classically handsome and also exotically hot. Guys like that, the vampire felt, were assholes just for existing.
Of course, it was Chase's appearance that had won him many a heart, and why his early morning show was so popular. Ultimately, it was the human's connections to the media, local news stations, and his many fans that made him useful to Jameson. So. He wasn't about to complain too much. That had been the plan after Jameson had dismissed Dr. Ozymandias. Find someone with a bit of clout.
"Despite the rumors, I only swing that way if I've got a few beers in me." Came the calculated yet smooth response.
Jameson just shot him a withering look and pulled his laptop properly open to get a good look at what he'd been doing. Per the meeting with the MC a few days before, the allurist had been going through days worth of footage to collect car makes and models, along with license plates, and as many clear images of faces as he could manage. It was rewarding work, or he assumed it would be once he finally sent everything off in a tidy package. However, it was also extremely boring. Thankfully he was in the final stages, and just needed to go through all the stills he'd captured to make sure there were no redundancies.
Chase moved closer, undoing a button on his jacket so he could sit on the edge of a desk (which Jameson wasn't actually using). One leg was left slanted so a foot could remain in contact with the ground, and the other dangled to show off expensive shoes. Fingers wove together and rested above the knee. Jameson could feel eyes on him and he glanced up. Grunted. "What?" He finally asked.
"Just watching you. I'm supposed to be doing your bidding, aren't I?" For a split second, the veneer of the charming, toothy man flinched out of the way to reveal something more aggressive, with sharper teeth and pointed ears. Jameson felt the slightest chill. In another life, Chase wouldn't have given Jameson the time of day - and that wasn't some high school sentiment like "Oh, they don't know I exist"; it was more complex than that. Men like Chase were used to always having power, always being in control. Publicly, Chase was charismatic, intelligent, articulate. He could say something and it went from being words to being the voice of a generation. Jameson suspected the private version of the same man was less glorified.
"I thought you hated being seen in this part of town." Jameson said, as he went back to typing away at the keyboard, bringing up images, storing some in a file, tossing others into the trash.
"It's growing on me." He said, the words brisk yet dismissive. Chase reached out then and tapped lightly at the very top of the laptop's edge. "I also put together that story you wanted. The gang war between the Lionelli and the Triads. I won't lie though, getting my fingers on the evidence from my police contact was a little tricky."
Jameson glanced up again, this time focusing on a fingertip on his computer. "And the cops are for sure leaning that direction?"
"Sure." Came the answer.
"Nothing yet to implicate the Nightlords in any of it?"
"Not at all."
"Great, I need you to pull the story."
"What?" The word was sharp.
"Look, I just think doing an exposé might be a little much. At some point, all the fingers pointing in one direction are going to look suspicious to someone."
"Yeah, we call those UFO-chasing, crackpots."
"I said no."
"It will look odd if we don't report on it. Especially if there are police leads going in that direction. Do you know how ******* big this whole thing is? Multiple gangs trying to snap up whole tracts of Harper Rock, and consolidate power bases. If you think that won't hit the news, and soon, you're wrong. At least if it's me, I can offer you and your motor club a media shield to operate without too many eyes on you."
There was a low sound that came from Jameson then, that was a lot like an irritated dog giving a half growl. "Fine. Just keep your ear to the ground, and if anything comes your way about the club, let me know immediately. Actually, we have a lawyer now. Name's Wilson, he'll be..."
"...in the yellow pages."
"On Google."
"Right, right."
"Anyway, it may be important for you to build some sort of professional relationship with him in the future, so drop whoever you have as your current legal council and pay his retainer." Surprisingly there was no real argument there.
Jameson compressed the file and then transferred it over to a portable USB. He then capped it at the port end and handed it off to the thrall. "You can take this to him when you go. Just say it's from Jameson, and he should know what it's about. If you need to, you can explain the nature of our relationship."
"Relationship?" The word was spoken with practiced ease, and there was the subtlest shift in the way the human sat, which caused his pants to abruptly pull snug against a thigh. The result was a sizable bulge that made Jameson more uncomfortable than anything. He closed his laptop and shoved it onto the desk before stretching. He stood up so he could avoid looking at Chase.
"You know what I mean." He muttered before he lowered a hand to scratch at his side, then he began to amble off in the direction of the kitchen. Somewhere along the way, Chase stood, buttoned his jacket and followed.
"You know I would have thought being ingratiated to a vampire..." Ingratiated was the term Chase used to describe his slavery "… might have been a sexier experience."
"You've been reading too much Rice."
"Alas, fiction is once again superior to reality."
"Thanks." Came a biting response, as Jameson poured himself a mug of coffee and then one for his thrall. Chase took it up and drank it black. Jameson couldn't stand coffee without enough creamer to both cool it, and make it a closer to a tan color.
"You know you're eventually going to have to either turn me or let me die." The human said conversationally. Like the two had talked about the same subject a dozen times. "That's the end game isn't it?"
"Maybe." The vampire replied after a shot of caffeine.
"I'd just rather you do it before my looks begin to go."
"Bit late for that, isn't it?" Jameson asked. And for a second, that mask Chase wore disappeared, only it wasn't a beast hiding underneath this time. The expression of hurt dissipated as quickly as it appeared, and Jameson felt like a dick.
"You haven't even been my human for a year." He began as he put his mug down, twisting so he could take a step closer to Chase. His hand lifted. He felt stubble on his palm for a moment. He felt smooth, thick hair under his fingers. The human was guarded. Jameson could tell he had done something wrong. Normally he wouldn't have cared, but Chase was his. He had a certain responsibility to 'try'. "You may know more about the world, and everything else that happens in the daylight hours, but this is what I know. This is my strength. You'll earn your fangs, and your eternal youth, and your immortality, but hold onto your life while you have it. Once it's gone, you'll miss it."
Chase's features softened for a moment and Jameson had no clue if the words sank in, or if they were accepted as trite. Either way, the thrall stepped away towards the door. "I'll call you later." He said. "What's your current number?"
Jameson gave him the number, and then Chase fled, to deliver the necessary information to Wilson. He plucked his mug back up and took another sip. His phone vibrated on the counter where he left it to charge most days. Plucking it up, he noted the latest text, which appeared to be the image of a middle finger, which was perfectly manicured, carefully tanned. The background was an expensive car and Chase's cheesy 'camera' smile.
Despite the rumors, I only swing that way if there are a few beers in me. He texted back.
"Asshole." He said out loud. Good naturedly.
Then he sent off a text to Wilson: Sending those images your way by proxy. Any headway on tracking down the big boss man? Phone me if you want to meet or something. We just need some leads. Vic and I can do the fieldwork." He hit send, and went back to his evening routine.
