[ Being approached by random strangers isn't exactly something he likes, but this place is different than home. Sort of. Most people are looking for a hookup, and even if he's not that interested right now, it's something to keep in mind. So, Larus gives a shake of his head and glances at the seat across from him. Might as well get whatever this is over with so he can go back to being alone. ]
What about you?
[ Meaning has he been in the city long? It's never something he can tell by looking at someone, no matter how well-adjusted they might seem. ]
[ He sits, keeping his back to the wall. Habit at this point, or paranoia if it swings that way. Either way, a precautionary measure. Everyone around him is a threat, everyone around him will - eventually - become an enemy. So don't make it easy on them, soldier. Never make it easy on them. ]
Not long. Three months now.
[ The line on his throat hasn't been a fun adjustment. Carver cants his head and doesn't touch his drink. ]
[ Larus' own mark is something he doesn't heed very much. One of the most helpful things about making the contract with Dorian had been the ability to move a bit more freely, but everything else? He could care less about it. He could care less about this too, his expression cool despite the direction of the conversation. It's not that he isn't interested exactly; he'd just rather avoid this if he can absolutely help it.
There's the slightest nod, keeping note of the other's heartbeat unconsciously. Steady. ]
That's why I came here. It's easier to understand a place the more you take it in.
[ Not that he's really happy about the city though. ]
[ Calm and steady there. No outward sign of tension or anxiety, just a man getting a drink, having a conversation. Carver inclines his head slightly, eyes never leaving Larus.
He doesn't touch his drink. That's not why he bought it. ]
[ All Larus does is rest his fingers against the glass he has yet to take a drink from, not interested in much going on around them. He's already trying to decide how far to take this and to what point he wants to disengage once he's ready to leave. ]
Not yet. It always takes time to find anything worth knowing. [ And on that note: ] What's your name?
[ Even if he was flirting, Larus wouldn't pay it much attention. Not right now. ]
Larus. [ He meets his eyes and doesn't look away. ] Is there a reason you came in here tonight, Carver?
[ There are probably many considering the type of establishment it is, and he hasn't picked up enough from the other man to decide that himself. So, when in doubt, ask. ]
It's my name. [ He doesn't specify beyond that and doesn't have any reason to. At that last comment though, there's a frown. ] Did I say you were?
[ Had he given Carver any indication that's what he was hoping for? Larus moves his hand away from the useless drink on the table and leans back, watching him steadily now. It's a curious comment, if anything. But moving on — ]
I imagine someone who's been here a few months would know those things a little better than someone like me.
[ They've got a rhythm now. Carver smiles. It's not quite as tense as before, less of a practiced mask and a touch closer to genuine. This is still a job but having a back and forth helps. It establishes patterns that can be adhered to or broken as needed. Larus reminds him more than a little of some of his brothers, the ones who didn't speak much because they never felt the need. But when they did, they tended to be deliberate about it.
That's just interesting, isn't it? ]
What was your world like? Inquiring minds want to know.
[ The smile doesn't pull anything from Larus except a mild curiosity, one that he treads carefully around. From a few previous interactions, it's obvious that not everyone in this city is to be trusted, but he can't settle too far into the mindset that anyone he talks to shouldn't be given a chance. He does relax marginally in his seat though, still absently tuned into Carver's heartbeat. ]
A little like this one but without all the sex rules. More undead though. [ He doesn't specify what. ] Werewolves, witches – things of that nature. I can't say it's really a shock being here.
Are you from Earth? [ Larus isn't, but he knows people who are, hence the question. ]
[ Undead. It's not the first time he's heard that phrasing, but it wasn't something that carried over fro back home. The meaning, though. That's telling. And somehow this place isn't much of a shock, assuming Larus isn't lying out his ass. Carver watches him for a moment, assessing. He's got some intelligence training, and he's always had a knack for reading people. Sussing out the bullshitters.
Doesn't seem like it. Hmm. ]
An Earth.
[ That seems to be a commonality around here. Not his, but one with a similar history - up to a certain point, anyway. Carver cants his head. ]
The dead started coming back. Not much of a world left now.
[ This is a conversation he can actually get into. Knowing things and wanting to know more. He leans forward so that an arm is resting on the table between them, still casual and still incredibly aware that Carver hasn't touched his drink. It's not unusual for him since he can't really handle it unless it's more blood than alcohol, so there's something to that he should think about.
For now, all he does is continue to look at him. ]
It does seem like none of them are connected. [ A light comment, not having run into anyone from the same world that know each other yet. ] It must have been hard living in a place like that.
[ If he means the actual dead and not just vampires. ]
[ That seems to catch Larus's attention, something more than idle words said to fill the silence. Carver absorbs that, considers it, tucks it away for later. He's here for information, a paying gig, but he's curious too. There's a lot he doesn't know, that doesn't make sense about how this shit works. How they're chosen - they must be chosen for something - and how they get here.
Getting more information is a place to start.
Carver nods slowly. ]
Some are. Met a couple people who got pulled in from the same time, same place. But not many.
[ all he does is offer a nod at that. people from the same world and same time—sounds complicated. or easy? he doesn't know, and he certainly wouldn't want anyone from his world showing up here. maybe jericho, but that's only to watch the bastard suffer a little until he decided to help him like he always did. but that's neither here nor there, irrelevant to the current topic at hand.
discussion of worlds. or his, anyway. ]
I wouldn't know too much about that part of it. Most people stuck to their own kind unless they were employed by The Factory. [ there's an obvious distaste to the way he says that. ] And I use that word loosely.
[ employed? tried subjugated and abused into loyalty. ]
It means you had to be careful if you weren't human.
[ larus doesn't know much about that either, if he's being honest. the few times he's had run-ins with the factory had been because of jericho, the loyal dog that he'd been (for a time). he gives the slightest shrug as he thinks about it. ]
But they usually kept to the richer side of the Dusk. [ a pause. ] That's the place I'm from.
[ The Dusk. Like the Factory, the one and only. Or maybe it's just what the place was called. People choose weird names for shit. And there's what sounds like a class divide.
The more things change, the more they really don't.
A country. [ Larus also shrugs, finally leaning back again. ] An island, really. I don't know if that matters to you.
[ He doesn't know if any of this matters, if he's being honest. No one's going to remember anything he told them or anything he's done once they leave, but it's all an attempt to make the best out of an uncomfortable situation. ]
Just making conversation. It's all relative here, isn't it?
[ It's not a proper interrogation. Carver doesn't have enough information to start one of those, or a hard objective. This is just a talk between strangers. He asks questions and he processes what he's given. Makes use of it. A country called The Dusk. The Factory. Class divides.
He takes it, processes it, tucks it away. ]
I was a soldier.
[ He doesn't touch his drink. Just holds it loosely in his hands. ]
[ Larus doesn't give any sort of answer to that first question. Of course it's relative, but there could be something there if someone digs hard enough. Little details that give away pieces of a person. He doesn't have anything to hide, though he does pause at the inquiry behind his occupation. It's not like he had much of one in life and certainly nothing had followed after he'd been turned. ]
I guess you learned to adapt. [ An idle comment, especially seeing as how Carver's world had been a different sort of undead. ] I didn't really have a job, but I spent a lot of time tracking and killing vampires.
[ For revenge, mainly, but he isn't going to offer that particular reasoning immediately. ]
[ Larus levels a particularly neutral look in the other man's direction. ]
It is when you can't hear their heartbeat. But they're also sloppy since they don't think anything can touch them.
[ Except for the sun, of course, but Larus has ripped out enough hearts and cut off enough heads to know that isn't true whatsoever. It only takes some determination. ]
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What about you?
[ Meaning has he been in the city long? It's never something he can tell by looking at someone, no matter how well-adjusted they might seem. ]
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Not long. Three months now.
[ The line on his throat hasn't been a fun adjustment. Carver cants his head and doesn't touch his drink. ]
Just getting the lay of things, you know?
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There's the slightest nod, keeping note of the other's heartbeat unconsciously. Steady. ]
That's why I came here. It's easier to understand a place the more you take it in.
[ Not that he's really happy about the city though. ]
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He doesn't touch his drink. That's not why he bought it. ]
Find anything worth knowing?
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Not yet. It always takes time to find anything worth knowing. [ And on that note: ] What's your name?
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So it does.
[ Case in point. His gaze never leaves the man across from him. Not flirting, not really. More of a running threat assessment. ]
Carver. What'd I call you?
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Larus. [ He meets his eyes and doesn't look away. ] Is there a reason you came in here tonight, Carver?
[ There are probably many considering the type of establishment it is, and he hasn't picked up enough from the other man to decide that himself. So, when in doubt, ask. ]
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[ It's distinctive, either way. Carver shrugs again. Neither of them break eye contact. Neither of them touch their drinks.
Interesting, isn't it? ]
Same as you. Getting a sense of things. And the people.
[ He cants his head. ]
I'm not hitting on you, by the way.
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It's my name. [ He doesn't specify beyond that and doesn't have any reason to. At that last comment though, there's a frown. ] Did I say you were?
[ Had he given Carver any indication that's what he was hoping for? Larus moves his hand away from the useless drink on the table and leans back, watching him steadily now. It's a curious comment, if anything. But moving on — ]
I imagine someone who's been here a few months would know those things a little better than someone like me.
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This place is pretty much psycho porn town on steroids. Sometimes I just like having a conversation.
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[ There's a lightness to his words this time, expression easing as he loosely crosses his arms over his chest. ]
What should we talk about? Since I already know your opinion of the city.
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[ They've got a rhythm now. Carver smiles. It's not quite as tense as before, less of a practiced mask and a touch closer to genuine. This is still a job but having a back and forth helps. It establishes patterns that can be adhered to or broken as needed. Larus reminds him more than a little of some of his brothers, the ones who didn't speak much because they never felt the need. But when they did, they tended to be deliberate about it.
That's just interesting, isn't it? ]
What was your world like? Inquiring minds want to know.
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A little like this one but without all the sex rules. More undead though. [ He doesn't specify what. ] Werewolves, witches – things of that nature. I can't say it's really a shock being here.
Are you from Earth? [ Larus isn't, but he knows people who are, hence the question. ]
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Doesn't seem like it. Hmm. ]
An Earth.
[ That seems to be a commonality around here. Not his, but one with a similar history - up to a certain point, anyway. Carver cants his head. ]
The dead started coming back. Not much of a world left now.
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For now, all he does is continue to look at him. ]
It does seem like none of them are connected. [ A light comment, not having run into anyone from the same world that know each other yet. ] It must have been hard living in a place like that.
[ If he means the actual dead and not just vampires. ]
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Getting more information is a place to start.
Carver nods slowly. ]
Some are. Met a couple people who got pulled in from the same time, same place. But not many.
[ None from his world, so far. ]
Just how it went. Not many people survived.
[ He watches Larus, intent and searching. ]
Yours sounds complicated. All the magic shit.
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discussion of worlds. or his, anyway. ]
I wouldn't know too much about that part of it. Most people stuck to their own kind unless they were employed by The Factory. [ there's an obvious distaste to the way he says that. ] And I use that word loosely.
[ employed? tried subjugated and abused into loyalty. ]
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[ The phrasing is deliberate. The Factory, like there's only one. Something important. Carver considers it thoughtfully, watching Larus. ]
I don't know what that means.
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[ larus doesn't know much about that either, if he's being honest. the few times he's had run-ins with the factory had been because of jericho, the loyal dog that he'd been (for a time). he gives the slightest shrug as he thinks about it. ]
But they usually kept to the richer side of the Dusk. [ a pause. ] That's the place I'm from.
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The more things change, the more they really don't.
Carver shrugs. ]
Is that a city, a country, what?
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[ He doesn't know if any of this matters, if he's being honest. No one's going to remember anything he told them or anything he's done once they leave, but it's all an attempt to make the best out of an uncomfortable situation. ]
What did you do back home?
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[ It's not a proper interrogation. Carver doesn't have enough information to start one of those, or a hard objective. This is just a talk between strangers. He asks questions and he processes what he's given. Makes use of it. A country called The Dusk. The Factory. Class divides.
He takes it, processes it, tucks it away. ]
I was a soldier.
[ He doesn't touch his drink. Just holds it loosely in his hands. ]
And then I was a contractor. You?
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I guess you learned to adapt. [ An idle comment, especially seeing as how Carver's world had been a different sort of undead. ] I didn't really have a job, but I spent a lot of time tracking and killing vampires.
[ For revenge, mainly, but he isn't going to offer that particular reasoning immediately. ]
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[ Human nature. You adapt to what's in front of you. He wonders if it's the same for someone who isn't human.
Probably. Carver figures some things just are. But the line about hunting vampires, that's interesting.
He cants his head. ]
That's a new one for me. Harder than tracking and killing a man?
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It is when you can't hear their heartbeat. But they're also sloppy since they don't think anything can touch them.
[ Except for the sun, of course, but Larus has ripped out enough hearts and cut off enough heads to know that isn't true whatsoever. It only takes some determination. ]
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