Path of the Vampire forum

Clover arched a brow at him, unable to find the words to respond to his quips. Or rather, she was unwilling to feed his flirtatious attitude. He was a cheeky man, indeed. He’d brightened her spirits, but his personality also made her want to reach across the space between them and slap him across the face. She reasoned with herself that the assault would have been brief, one single slap across his right cheek and then a chuckle. Clo buried those thoughts by tearing her eyes away from him. Her phone began vibrating, the loud buzz making her sigh. She enjoyed every text, but she also hated every interruption. As she closed a hand around the phone, she turned her gaze back to Jackson.

“I came out for other reasons. You’re right,” she replied. She flashed him a mischievous smile and then looked down at her phone. She spoke as she texted. “I decided to come to this quaint little pub in the hopes that a big, strong man would take me home with him,” she stopped, looking up at him and then back down at her phone. The change in subject circled back to the flirtatious undertone he’d cemented in the conversation. She chose anything, said anything, to get away from bringing up the real reason for her visit to Lancaster’s, or her presence in the district. She wanted to mope, of course, and to wallow in her own failures, but she didn’t want a stranger digging through her mind. Clover didn’t like it when people asked just the right questions in all the wrong ways.

Placing her phone back on the bar, she studied the way the bartender engaged and disengaged with the patrons. He showed enthusiasm; he showed involvement. With Jackson, the bartender lacked both qualities. Whether or not the employee actually cared for the troubles of his patrons, he stood there and nodded at all the right times. Clo admired the fact that he showed up to his job. She couldn’t say the same about herself. Her attention remained on the polished man for a little while longer, and she noticed little things about the way the man carried himself, little things about the way he smiled and nodded and laughed. He didn’t really care. Good for him.

“I think you’re right,” she added, her comment coming rather late. “He’s not really interested. I like that he’s trying to maintain the appearance. He shows up, at least.” And with her words, she still managed to avoid answering Jackson’s question. Clo saw a parallel between Jackson and the bartender, where if she had chosen to tell the truth and continue on with her life story, Jackson would have played the role of the nameless bartender. She would have seen through his facade, through the cracks in his smile.

“I’m wasting time before I go home. When you’re in a big family, things happen. You just want to step back. I like a little alone time. Too much and I find things to fill it with.” Clo looked over at Jackson and offered him a smile, one that she hoped conveyed the fact that her words had deeper meanings. When she had too much time to herself, when she felt as if she were abandoned, she did terrible things. Self-destructive things. Plain destructive things.

For a portion of their conversation, she seemed content to call him Jackson, and if she went home knowing him as Jackson, then that would be the end of things. His name would have been cemented in her mind, in the few memories she'd made. “Are you going to tell me your name, Jackson? Please.” She wondered whether the please would only prolong their game, for it had become a game to the both of them.

He actually snorted in response to her teasing words. They seemed to fit in with what had been going on but hearing her with that tone and those specific words, to say it was funny to him would be an understatement. He smirked for a moment before shaking his head, "I might be able to fit those first two, just maybe, but if you want me to take you home. Sorry, that's not in the cards tonight." He knew she was teasing, hell he had been flirting because compared to the initial mood when he thought they were going to come to blows when she first let him know how she might recognize him it was much preferable. He said no more about it though, already deciding whatever her response might be that to keep going down that road would likely just lead to the atmosphere becoming a bit hostile again. He was too lazy to deal with that **** tonight since it was already shown he didn't have to.

She agreed with him about the lack of actual caring from the bartender at least after she was done watching him for those brief moment and he could only shrug, "So they are just a space filler really. A person doing a job that just requires a warm body to be present. He is nothing but a waste of space if that's the case." Of course he wouldn't admit what it was that he actually enjoyed that would make him useful instead of a space filler. How does one say that they always enjoyed killing en masse but had just not wanted to do it at the request of someone else for money anymore? He would have done it for free if it left him his freedom but that wasn't the case and was actually how he ended up in this city. He could somewhat understand her desire to waste time, though not the family part and saw no reason to question just what she meant.

The few times he had been bored in the city he had gone out feeding and ended up killing quite a few people before he even bothered feeding. Those were fun nights, and he found he actually preferred the taste of blood tinged with the fear of his victims and had gradually started to torment them a bit more before feeding instead of his normal quick hunting so there would be little time for anything to go wrong. It was certainly more interesting to chase and let the fear and panic build. It was only as she asked his name that he felt the right side of his mouth lift in a smirk. He contemplated not telling her but honestly, there was no reason to do so and so he gave her what she wanted. "I might as well since you asked so nicely." The last had a slight snicker in his tone before he actually answered, "My name is Edenor, though I suppose if you find Jackson more fitting you can stick with that. No promises I will answer to it in the future though."

Edenor. The name existed at the opposite end of the spectrum, if there were such a spectrum for odd and unusual names. At one end, near the normal side of the spectrum, came Jackson; at the other end, near the abnormal side of the spectrum, came Edenor. Clover couldn’t tell which name she preferred, so she spent a few minutes staring off in thought. He’d given her permission to continue calling him Jackson, but he’d also warned her that he might not answer. Yes, she preferred Edenor. For all the times that she would meet him again, and she would meet him again, she wanted him to answer to his name.

“Edenor it is,” she answered simply. “I might also refer to you as Mr. Big and Strong, since you might be those two things. Might.” She smirked at him, borrowing his signature expression and making it her own. Perhaps she’d taken a dig at him, but she considered it in good fun. And she needed fun. He amused her. She assumed that her behavior amused him too, to some extent.

A little bit of humor did wonders for the mind. She shouldn’t have allowed herself to forget about her mission or her moping, but she really had no choice in the matter. He’d distracted her. The texts had distracted her. The poor customer service had distracted her. Sitting there, Clover wondered why she cared in the first place. She shouldn’t have wasted her time leaving Circle. She shouldn’t have given two shits. Clo didn’t know when Edenor became her newest fascination, or when she’d decided to drop in on him whenever she could, but he’d assumed the role. He’d shown her a kindness, whether he knew it or not, and Clover collected kindnesses. Clo refused to relinquish her hold on such nice things.

She wanted to tease him more, to state, outright, that she intended to stalk him--after all, honesty was the best policy--but she didn’t get the opportunity. Her phone went off one more time, and she shifted her focus back onto her messages. What she read, what she saw, made her swallow. Hard. Clover licked her lips, and then raised her eyes to Edenor. She didn’t know what to say or what to do. Taking her lower lip between her teeth, she looked back down at her phone and tapped out a quick reply. She had to leave. There was an emergency, and she had to leave. So soon. Too soon.

Clover couldn’t say that she regretted the interruption. If Edenor asked, she knew she’d tell him that she regretted leaving; Clo would have lied just to say the most polite thing possible. Then again, Clo lied all of the time. Nothing new. Without saying anything, she snagged one of the cocktail napkins from the other side of the bar. She patted her jacket pockets, but she didn’t have a pen. Clo had to reach over the bar once more and collect one of the ballpoint pens. She scribbled out her name and number on the napkin, then slid both the pen and the napkin over to him, as if offering him to do the same. Not that she needed his number. She didn’t need a phone number to find him.

“I,” she hesitated, eyeing him as if she were judging him, “got a text from my sire and I really need to go. I overstayed my welcome here, as it is. To be honest, this won’t be the last we’ll see of one another. I enjoy good company.” Clover softened the blow with euphemisms and an appropriate tone of voice, but she meant that she’d stalk him and that he had no real choice in the matter. More than likely, Edenor understood. He didn’t seem like a stupid man.

As she stood, she checked the zipper on her coat and double-checked that she'd paid for the drinks. Her mind had become a scattered mess, too focused on the contents of the text message rather than on her surroundings or her current companion. She had to get back. She had to get out of there. Because she actually had someone waiting on her. And that had caused the wisp of a smile, a genuine smile, to appear on her lips.