The Hangover [Matilda]

[Lancaster]

<Lancaster d’Artois> The night started with Lancaster d’Artois in his office, nursing one of the worst headaches of the century. That was the problem with being an Allurist who was susceptible to alcohol poisoning – the hangover was never really worth the numbness provided by the drink – though it never seemed to stop Lancaster from going back. Of course, it wasn’t hard for him to get his hands on the drink. It was far too easy. Shadis and Charlotte tried, and it was for their sake now that he tried not to go find another bottle of wine – if he got drunk again, maybe the headache would go away. It was for their sake that he was trying to push through.

The normal remedies for a hangover didn’t quite work. He had ordered scrambled eggs and bacon from the kitchen, but he just felt sick and threw it all up again. He’d laughed into the toilet bowl – people probably thought he was insane. He was always complaining about how he hated being a vampire. He hated what he was. Now? He had never felt more human. He had done it to himself. He really, really couldn’t complain.

Back in his office, he was trying to drown out the noise of the pub when there was a knock on his door. He sat up straighter and pushed his fingers through his hair to try to comb it, though it still sat kind of haphazardly. “Come in…” he called, forcing a smile as Jessica poked her head into the office.

“Lancaster, the protestors are back…” she said with an arched brow. Normally, Lancaster would take care of them. Normally, he would go out and talk to them and they’d eventually go away. But this was the third time this month, and he couldn’t even rightly remember what it was they were protesting. Something utterly ridiculous. Was it something about serving meat, or was this a different lot? A low growl rumbled in his throat as he stood, scooping a baseball bat out from under the desk. Jessica backed off, a little concerned. Whatever protestation she offered fell on deaf ears. Lancaster had had enough. He just couldn’t deal with it anymore. Any of it. That was how he ended up out on the street roaring like a drunken giant, though he wasn’t drunk. As he chased them off the footpath wielding the bat like their heads were baseballs and he was taking aim – he roared out all his frustrations at the poor protestors. It didn’t take long for them to scatter.


<Matilda> Matilda had been out for one of her nightly strolls, getting herself reacquainted with the city and it's greatly varied inhabitants. It seemed so strange to her how much it appeared to have changed, though she had continued to wander it even as she dreamt she had no real concept of what was occurring around her. Tonight she had foregone any larger weapons, there were no great plans for the hunting of zombies or heading to the Hunting Grounds to take down a Mountain Lion for dinner, the dagger in her boot and a gun tucked into her purse seemed sufficient.

She had different prey in mind tonight, an old acquaintance that had originally hailed from the same land as Matilda. They’d bonded quickly over silly nicknames and music, the pair often just mucking around when they caught up. He was a friendly face, one without complication and that sounded like a really good idea right now, her first week back had been better than she’d expected but still a little shaky.

Turning the last corner to Lancaster’s, giving her dress one more quick brush of hands to make sure everything was sitting in place, she was confronted with a fascinating sight. A large group of what appeared to be protesters scattering, alarmed by the hollering man waving a bat in their general direction. “What the… Has everyone gone batty? Lancaster, what the hell are you doing?” She demanded, though there was more than just a little amusement in her voice. The woman fought to keep a straight face, trying to look stern as her hands move to press to her hips. “Well, young man?”


<Lancaster d’Artois> Even after four years – or was it nearly five, now? – Lancaster still could not control his emotions. They hit him like a tidal wave and he could do nothing but go with the flow, body loose, hoping not to be slammed with fatal shrapnel along the way. It could have been an arresting sight – or a quirky one – to see the tall Australian wielding his blunt weapon beneath the sign that proclaimed his name and ownership of the building. The crowd dissipated and what was left behind was a sight Lancaster had not expected to see. Sure, he’d offered the invitation. But he never thought she would actually follow through.

A frown cut a deep line down the middle of his eyes as it his head split in two. It felt that way, anyway – like some god on high had decided to finally drop an axe right into the middle of his skull. He was paler than usual – could he actually be getting sick? – and his lips were dry. Maybe all he needed was a heady dose of actual blood, but with Pi gone, he had no other vampire to sink his fangs into. He hadn’t been game enough to approach anyone about it – he hadn’t needed to, with the buffing relic snug around his upper arm.

“******* riff-raff. Maybe they’ll think twice about coming back. You can only be nice for so long until you finally have to drive the point home, y’know?” he said. He tried for a smile. “It’s good to hear a familiar melody, though. How are you?” he asked. Small talk. He hated it, but it was better than the alternative.


<Matilda> The woman stared at him as if he might be mad for a few moments, listening to his explanation only to find more questions forming. Perhaps now wasn’t the time to ask them, might be better to wait until he calmed down a little before she launched into a tirade of questions. Turning slowly she watched the reminder of the humans scatter, looking back at the tall vampire to check he wasn’t chasing them it seemed.

“Uh, yeah, riff raff… Me? Surprisingly well all things considered, it’s good to be awake and to find some familiar faces still kicking around. Enough about me though, mate, how are you? I’m not going to lie to you, you’re looking a bit rough.” She paused, unsure of how to phrase her next comment but figuring it might be best to be direct. “Not sure if you’ve been up to some dubious activities, or you just haven’t had a good feed in a while. Do you need to get some?”


<Lancaster d’Artois> Ah, of course. Of course she would ask the direct questions – and she wouldn’t know that Lancaster couldn’t lie. Although he laughed, there was no mirth in it. “No, actually – now that you mention it, a nice long sleep sounds like a ******* holiday,” he said. “Technically, no. I don’t need anything to eat. I’ve got a major hangover, is all,” he said. At least she hadn’t asked for the details, right? He cleared his throat, an action which turned into a bit of a cough.

“Anyway. Enough standing around on the street. Come in, come in,” he said, heading back inside the pub. It was quiet inside – the protestors had driven some of the business away, though the customers would soon be back. It was early enough in the night. From the bar, Jessica gave Lancaster a somewhat dubious look, probably glad to see that he wasn’t covered in blood, or anything. That, probably, would have been going too far. “Upstairs. It’s quieter,” he said. Why had he come down, anyway? Food, yes. That’s right. The food that hadn’t worked. He headed for the stairs that would first lead up to the backpackers, and then one more floor up to the attic – where he lived, these days.


<Matilda> She studied his features as he spoke, the man had grown curiously pale and his mouth seemed dry, if he were human she’d make him have a lie down and a nice big glass of water. Matilda found herself surprised by his answer, though it did explain a lot. A hangover vampire was certainly something new and she wasn’t exactly sure how she felt about it. “Mate, hair of the dog that bit you perhaps? Not a great habit to encourage, but it gets you through the worst of it.” She reached to pat his back to ease the coughing but thought better of it, letting him lead her into his joint. It wasn’t a bad place, the bar was nice and quiet but they didn’t stop there and she began to wonder how big this place was. “Seems like this place is doing well, Lanky, nice little spot.”


<Lancaster d’Artois> He shook his head. "No, no. Too much of that. I'd be perpetually drunk if I kept drinking to keep the hangover away," he said. It was kind of nice, talking about hangovers and getting drunk. It felt oh so human - even if he felt like he might have caught some kind of death-flu at the same time. Maybe the lack of an ability to keep the food down wasn't just the hangover. Recalling the last time he was sick, Lancaster sincerely hoped it was something he could kick. "Thank you," he said. "I expanded," he added. And, it was all doing quite well. He should be proud. He led Matilda into the attic, which was more like a studio apartment with no windows - there were discarded instruments around the place, and the pub's stock spilling out one of the doors. "Home sweet home."


<Matilda> A smile curved her lips as she listened to him speak, the accent stood out here, so broad and yet so comforting to her. “Well we can’t have you being a drunken lout all the time, can we? You’ll have to catch me up on what’s driven you to drinking, Seems like you’ve picked it up as a heavy new hobby.” Stepping into the attic she allowed herself a peek around, admiring what he’d done with it. “This is nice, actually, really cozy. I could do with a nice attic to hide out in myself, it feels like even when they are empty every place I have to lay my head is crowded. Not sure if it’s the memories, or the remnants of people’s lives scattered around the place as if they might return at any moment. One place I had that was for me and…” She trailed off, “Uh, for me, just feels haunted now.” Her shoulders lifted in a shrug, Matilda letting loose a shaky laugh as if to brush away the thoughts. “Now, if drinking isn’t on the agenda perhaps it’s time for you to give me an idea of exactly what’s been happening around here?” Moving around him she moved over to the instruments, tracing her fingertips over the strings of a guitar, “Sing me a song, Lanky bird.”


<Lancaster d’Artois> Lancaster cringed at the sound of the guitar and shook his head, though even that small movement hurt him. Like he had a bowling ball instead of a brain and it rattled against open nerves every time he moved. He even saw stars. It wasn't long until he'd found one of the armchairs and slowly eased himself down into it. "No songs," he said. "And it's not an interesting story. Really, it's quite pathetic and I should just get my act together," he said, leaning back with his eyes closed, though he was still happy to talk. The company was nice. The familiarity of the accent a soothing balm. "I have plenty of spare places, you know. I can probably find you some keys for somewhere..." he said, opening one eye to look at Matilda. "Are you one of those who've started hearing voices?"


<Matilda> She stilled the strings to stop the sound that had poured further, watching him recoil she get her voice quiet as she spoke. "I wasn't being literal, about the song, more of a silly joke like 'Sing me the song of your people'. Pathetic? Hey, we've all had some pathetic in our time." She watched the man sink into the armchair, he looked so utterly weary. She lowered her own slender frame into a chair near his, leaning to rest her elbow on the arm, her chin propped on her hand as she watched him. "It's alright, I just need to learn to deal with my demons and loved ones." She laughed as if the laughter itself surprised her, glad she was able to roll with the punches better these days. "Voices?" The question stilled her, blue eyes widening. "I'm not sure. I mean, I spent the last year basically walking in a dream state... I'm not sure what was real or what was fantasy. Are you? Hearing voices?"


<Lancaster d’Artois> Lancaster laughed and then flinched, the pressure causing another hammer blow to his head and he groaned it away. "No, no voices. I don't like death, though," he said, turning his head to open both eyes, to look at Matilda properly - it was hard to discern much, but he caught her feelings all mixed up with his own. Except it was hard to decipher, in his current state. "It was not nearly for so long - but I got stuck. Like I didn't know where I was and definitely didn't know how to get out. I wasn't... aware, y'know? There were so many nightmares. It took a long time to shake off the cold of it," he said with a frown. Matilda had opened up, so why couldn't he? It was far too easy to do. Everyone assumed he was drunk because Pi had left. But it had more to do with the fact that she wasn't there to pull him out this time. She wasn't there to help him now. "Do you know what prompted you to wake up?"


<Matilda> Found herself watching him with a new awareness, she had noticed something different about him but not realised quite how different. "Ah, so it finally caught up to you? I don't know, maybe it happens to all of us, we finally seem to acknowledge the reality of our situation and something shifts. Some succumb to it, others strive to overcome it." She cleared her throat, feeling as if she might have sounded a little crazy. "I believe it was a matter of processing for me, I needed time to get my **** together and I hit a point where I could no longer progress in the waking world. Those I cared about were drifting too, it was easier to let each other go for the time being and I got the chance to really consider what it was I wanted, I needed. I sorted through the past, I looked forward to varying futures and... I'm awake? Ugh, bugger I think I’m insane."


<Lancaster d’Artois> Lancaster's head lifted, thought it felt as heavy as a dumbbell. He swallowed, and shook his head. "No. I don't think you're insane," he said, and paused. This kind of conversation required a measured reply. It required thought. Or, maybe it just required openness, which seemed to be something that Lancaster had no trouble with. He and Matilda had got along; they'd been good friends, hadn't they? He talked to her now as if she'd never left. "... and some slip into it like a glove. Like they were always supposed to be here. I always find it strange, when they do that. I have a ... new progeny. Shadis. So far, she... seems to have no qualms," he said, though he was mainly thinking about the first night and her feeding. She'd had no problems. Maybe it would hit her later on. "And... you're awake. Which future did you decide on?" he asked, curious, never mind if it might have been a personal question.


<Matilda> Matilda leaned back in the chair, tucking her long legs up underneath her as she listened to him, considering his words before speaking. "I think it depends on what your life was before, you know? And the circumstances of your turning, because for me that was something I struggled with. He might've been able to keep me alive, it was extremely unlikely so in a way I should be grateful but he didn't MEAN to turn me. Wolfgang tried in his own way to save me, but the blood was too much and when he realised what he'd nearly done he made the rash decision to turn me. Then he freaked out and he left, because he was at the time somewhat crazed himself, struggling to adjust and he thought it was a bad dream when he woke up the next night." She laughed, bemused by the memory. "That is until I walked into his apartment in the same torn, blood stained outfit and punched him in the face."

She shook her head at herself, "The point is that it was a very startling situation, we struggled to find a balance at first and he wasn't really prepared to be the "sire". We all have a very unique bond with him, and we all come back to each other. What I realised about my future is that we have eternity if we choose, so why stress? Why force it? We can take our time, there is no set schedule for all of this. My life had gotten rough, i'd run away here and fate dealt me a sort of **** hand. It's why I am the way I am in death, undeath?" She stretched out her pale arms, looking at her skin, so fair it was near translucent with an almost blue tinge in certain lights. "Nothing changes, and I just have to roll with it."

[Matilda]

<Lancaster d’Artois> Lancaster arched a brow. The name rang a bell. They knew Wolfgang - or, Pi did. They'd gone to a party at his penthouse, once. There was a lot of small talk, and it was the kind of shindig where Lancaster wanted to just climb out the window. Leave a doppelganger behind, or something. He wasn't good at those small, formalesque get-togethers. He probably knew that Matilda was sired under him before – but these things slip a person’s mind when there’s so much more to remember, to deal with.

“Sounds… like a long story,” he said, and shrugged, shook his head. “Eternity doesn’t comfort me. It’s just one other unnatural thing that is so far removed from what I once was. They say humans are driven by death, right? They know they’re going to die eventually, so they strive to do things with their lives, to make them worthwhile. Now that death doesn’t mean anything – or, now that it’s something I would avoid at all costs – where’s the meaning in anything?” he asked. Honestly, he had no idea what to do with himself. He slumped.

“I witnessed something I shouldn’t have. Pi… she shouldn’t have killed the guy in such a public place, I suppose. She wasn’t the one who killed me, technically, but she saved me. And she’s saved me since. She’s pulled me out of some pretty dark places. But she left. I don’t know when she’s coming back,” he said. How many times had he said the words out loud? There was more to it than that, but that was the gist.


<Matilda> She made a little sound of understanding, "She... Ah, we'll come back to that one. Let's start with death, start with the end. Before my turning I was somewhat morbidly fascinated by death, i'd lost my best friend a year or so before and having seen the body it, well it was pretty horrific. It hit me really hard, and I just needed to get away so I took a job over here. I was sort of starting to get my **** together when it happened, was socialising again and feeling somewhat better but there was still those lingering nightmares. I don't want to look to death as a reason to do things, because for me death was a reason not to. I strive to experience, to make connections which is something I find difficult because I admit I can be a little guarded. I guess I went through the whole "omg my life is over, everything is bleak and being a vampire is worthless" and I’m coming out the other side. I'm sure I’ll go through it again, once it's been 30 years and I’ve not changed a bit."

She paused to let him consider her words before speaking again, "As for Pi... Do you know how many times Wolf has walked away? God, he's so damn good at it because he has more demons than he will ever admit to. When stuff gets bad I look to him, to Lyonel and Eva to reign me in or to know when to let me drift. Unfortunately with Wolfgang he needs me to do the same and it's not always so easy. I understand how hard it can be to rely on someone and not knowing what to do when they aren't there for you. Do you have anyone else?"


<Lancaster d’Artois> He understood what she was saying. It dawned on him, a slow revelation. What he required was a shift in temperament. A new philosophy. Life shouldn’t be lived only in fear of inevitable death. That was selfish, wasn’t it? Worthiness should not be sought only for oneself. Maybe if chose not to live for himself, but instead for others – if he gave himself up entirely, maybe it would be different, it would be better. It wasn’t what Matilda had said – she had her own reasons. But everyone’s reasons for living weren’t ever going to be the same.

As for her advice about Pi, Lancaster wasn’t sure he entirely agreed. A frown creased his brow; he wanted to be Pi’s anchor. He wanted to be the one who could help her, if she needed to drift. If she needed help. But she’d left without him, and quite obviously did not need his help. Hell, she communicated with her thrall over Lancaster. And that was when Shadis’s advice came back to him – advice that he wouldn’t fully take to heart, but – there was nothing he could do about it. Pi wasn’t here, she’d left without a word. So be it. He would let her go, and he would move on. He would… try to get his **** together. For the others. He nodded.

“I do,” he said. He was thinking of Shadis and Charlotte – even of Skylar, even if she’d done the same thing Pi had done. She’d left. Was it better to leave without a word, or the way Skylar had? But maybe Lancaster was being too harsh. But, he smiled at Matilda. “Thank you. For helping me realise that, fully,” he said. “And you? Did they all welcome you home?” he asked.


<Matilda> His reaction surprised her, that he seemed to comprehend and accept what she had said. It was nice to be listened to on occasion, when she bothered to really speak up rather than just speak out. When he asked about her homecoming the woman nearly choked she inhaled pointless air so quickly, her eyes widening, looking around is for somewhere to hide. "Well, uh, yes? I guess they did? I called them and they came to me, I hadn't even finished the call before I was in Lyonel's arms. Then the other thing happened when..." She trailed off, waving her hand as if it was unimportant though her expression looking rather sheepish said otherwise, "And Eva rocked up then we ended up in the pool with Lyonel. It was lovely to see them, and how easily they embraced me. I figured they'd be upset with me, or dismissive like they'd gotten over me you know? They hadn't and that was amazing. Well, mostly amazing." Her hands pushed up to smooth at her blonde waves, fingertips twisting at the loose curls as if for something to keep them busy with. "Homecomings can be worth leaving."


<Lancaster d’Artois> Lancaster thought that he got the picture. He had no idea who Lyonel was, but he figured he must be someone special to Matilda. Someone who hadn't given up on her - which made him wonder. Would he be the same way with Pi? Would he welcome her with open arms, and pull her close like he couldn't touch her enough? Or would he still be angry, cold, distant? He suppose it depended on how long she stayed away; on whether she tried to contact him, in the mean time. On how she felt - because he'd feel it, too. "Maybe, sometimes," he said, though he was smiling. "I'm glad, though. That they didn't dismiss you. You think you'll stay?" he asked, fighting through a wave of dizziness. Yeah, he was coming down with something. He knew it. He was somewhat afraid - but really, he'd brought it on himself. He'd do his best not to let it hinder him.


<Matilda> She smiled at him, thinking about her little "family" reunion, how good it had been just to look up at Lyonel, to hug Eva close and... Well, she tried not to think about the rest, because although she wouldn't blush she was pretty sure she'd become flustered and distracted, giving herself away. "I think I will, I don't guarantee that I might not wander again some time or decide to leave this place altogether but I know that won't begrudge me leaving. Wolf might, but he wouldn't say it and he's allowed to leave so he can deal. Speaking of odd sire relationships... What's the deal with Pi?"


<Lancaster d’Artois> Lancaster managed a laugh, almost as if Matilda had told him every single detail. Should he tell her? Yes. It was the kind of thing he was wont to do. "You know, over time we develop new abilities, right? Things we're capable of. Powers, curses, whatever you want to call them. Maybe it came naturally to me, but you should know - I can feel what you're feeling. I get it. It was good," he said, grinning at her. It felt nice to smile due to genuine amusement, though he had to bite back a sigh as she shifted in his seat at the question posed. "I wear a ring," he said, holding up his hand - for all intents and purposes, anyone looking for one would think that he was married. "She wears one, too. We're not bound. We're not married - but we liked to have people think that we were. To set up a boundary," he said. Matilda was probably only asking because she knew Pi was his sire - not that they were together. But he explained anyway. "I suppose we never really talked in depth about a ceremony, an actual bonding. Makes me wonder now if she was never really sure..." he asked, frowning as he voiced his deepest fear out loud.


<Matilda> Winced audibly, the woman pressing her hand to her face. "Well you may be able to pick up on the feelings, but at least you don't know what i'm thinking, that's something." Her amusement drifted, however, at his doubt over the bond he shared with Pi. "From what I can tell of her, Lanky old man, she doesn't seem like a woman who would make such a decision lightly. To appear as wed, legal binding or voodoo crazy ceremony aside, that is a big thing. Sure one can change, and relationships change or end, that happens but it doesn't mean it wasn't real. If she had doubts i'm sure she would've told you rather than just leaving, that sounds more like her style. If she comes back, tell her how you feel without hesitation... Trust me." She slumped back in her chair, pressing her fingertips against her temples, though she had mostly made peace with what her decisions had lead to it was hard to sit back and watch the consequences.


<Lancaster d’Artois> Lancaster nodded and exhaled - a long release of breath that he hoped might release the tension of his headache. Of course it didn't. In some way, shape or form he'd been thinking about these things over and over, ever since he'd come back from the dead to realise Pi was gone. He had to get over it, somehow. There was nothing he could do but wait, and he had to try to preoccupy himself in the meantime. This wasn't the be all and end all. "Sorry, yes. You're right. There's probably more to it. I'll quit rabbiting on about it," he said with a small smile. He saw the way that Matilda slumped, the way she rubbed at her temples - as if she were suddenly afflicted with the same migraine that plagued him. "Are you okay?" he asked, concerned. It wasn't catching, was it?


<Matilda> She gave him a smile as if to reassure him, "I'm fine mate, sometimes you've just got to let the weight of things hit you, address it and move on. It doesn't help when the things that weigh on your mind face you daily. That and I’m still feeling a bit weird from being shot in the heart. Bloody indecisive men, they will be the death of me again and again and again I swear it. I suppose it'll teach me to slap him, but hot damn did he have it coming. Lineages are hard work, huh? You been siring at all in my absence? Got some new ones to teach your wonderful alluring ways?"


<Lancaster d’Artois> He had to wonder whether he had heard her right. Someone had shot her in the heart because she'd slapped them? Sounded like one of those violent lineages - so many seemed to be into that kind of thing. They all healed, yes, and these things weren't fatal. But it still didn't sit well with him. Rather than argue the point, he just laughed. "You keep picking winner topics, Matilde. Yes, I've sired. They come, they go. Mostly they go. But - you asked before if I had anyone else, and I have them. I have Charlotte - I didn't sire her myself, but I took her under my wing. And Shadis. She's the newest. Fucked if I know why she's still around, but she is. And I have to somehow show her I appreciate it," he said. He glanced over to the table where his phone sat, suddenly feeling the urge to call her. Maybe email Skylar, too. "Did you have any? I mean, before you left... are they still around?"


<Matilda> "I'm glad that you have them, clearly she has stuck about because she sees something in you worth sticking around for. That's pretty cool, isn't it?" As discussion slipped to those she had sired she gave a brief nod, "They are gone unfortunately. My beloved slipped into the shadows, we were very close and it's painful to know he won't be coming back again but sometimes people just cannot continue. I wonder if it was my fault, you know, because I wasn't there for him? Oh, he had the lineage of course but maybe they weren't enough. He was a policeman before it all, a good one and good guy, I turned him when he was dying from a gun wound... Anyway, i'm actually open to the idea to taking in someone else, but I’d rather they choose it and be certain. I've seen what happens when there is no choice, and I don't want that sort of resentment really."


<Lancaster d’Artois> Lancaster nodded. That was the problem with siring - when they disappeared, when they 'slipped into the shadows' as Matilda so eloquently put it - it was impossible not to grieve. Better that they remain alive, even if distant. But he understood. "I'm sorry," he said. It was the kind of useless thing people said when other people lost those they loved. But it was offered nonetheless. "I have a habit of trying to save lives. But - you are right. Find someone who wants it; someone who might thank you for it. The guilt isn't worth it, either."


<Matilda> Laughed, the woman draping herself across the arm of her chair, reaching out so that her fingers could wrap delicately about his arm. "Ah, the noble Lancaster wants to save everyone. No, I understand that, I won't save just anyone but sometimes there they are in need, and in this place there seems to be enough trouble to make the body count rise if we didn't intervene as we do." Her hand gave his arm a squeeze before withdrawing, giving him his space once more. "It's romantic isn't it, in a way, vampires swooping in to give eternal life to poor unfortunates. I suppose others might say horrifying, but at least we aren't zombies."


<Lancaster d’Artois> He rolled his eyes, but didn't laugh as much as he could. There were a few he could count whose lives he had saved because he was the one who'd caused the deaths. But that, he didn't particularly want to talk about. "Romantic, sure," he said. He'd probably go with the latter - they could save as many people as they liked, but in the end they didn't know those people. They didn't know how moral or immoral they were, and whether giving them immortal life would be better or worse for the innocent inhabitants of this city. But these were the chances they had to take; Lancaster still had a tendency to try to find the good in people, until they proved him irrevocably wrong. A wave of nausea hit Lancaster then, and his head fell back against the chair. "... Ugh, I'm really not feeling well. I think I need to try to sleep this off. Can we raincheck? I'll shoot you a text when I'm feeling a bit more... well, more," he said.


<Matilda> She let her gaze drift over him for a few seconds longer, watching as something seemed to rock him, cause him pain. While she wished he would allow her to help him she figured it was unlikely, he'd smile and brush it off against most likely. The blonde woman rose to her feet, moving to his side as quietly as she could. "We can always catch up another day, i'm not going anywhere for now and I hope you aren't either. On that note, Lanky..." She reached out once more, placing her hand against his arm. "If you need anything, and I do mean ANYTHING, you will call me. Ok? We Aussie's have to stick together in this ridiculous bloody place." She leaned forward to brush the lightest of kisses atop his head, "Thank you for having me over." And with that she turned towards the door, it was definitely time to let him wallow in his hangover.


<Lancaster d’Artois> Although it was tempting to stop her from leaving, to cash in on the offer of anything straight away, Lancaster refrained. The notion of taking blood from anyone else was ... well, he wasn't quite that desperate yet. Besides, he was well aware that many vampires did not like the idea of necurats, and he wasn't about to expose anyone to the awkwardness or the discomfort. He just nodded and smiles. "Thanks, Waltzer. Same back atcha," he said. He knew that he should get up. He knew that he should maybe try a steaming hot shower. But rather than try to do anything, he just lay there to wait - to hope - for it to pass.