A Little Piece of Advice

Deep Ellum

Just a few blocks from Downtown, Deep Ellum acts as the arts and entertainment district of the city. With a myriad of live music venues, theaters, and a few small galleries, it has become the nightlife hotspot for the city. In addition to the usual arts, the are is prone to gaffiti art and murals, some of which appear overnight.

Deep Ellum is also becoming known as Vampire Central, thanks to the city's first and only vampire accommodating establishment - the Hotel Carmilla.

desiree_icon.jpg james_icon.jpg marius_icon.jpg In Cameo: darcy_icon.jpg

It's one of the few nights in recent memory where Dallas hasn't been inundated with precipitation. Oh, it's overcast, and the clouds are sweeping low across the sky. Light from the city reflects off those clouds, making an ever-changing pattern of light and shadow overhead. It's muggy, and the temperature hasn't lessened all that much since the day. Coming from inside to outside is like walking into a warm, wet blanket, but at least it's not raining.

Desiree is standing in back of her Mustang, leaning over the lip of the trunk to retrieve something or other. Beside the car on the sidewalk is a long, black case made of hard plastic. It's open, revealing two epees, two epee daggers and a rapier. When she straightens, Desiree clocks herself on the back of the head with the trunk lid. The string of curses which erupts is impressive, and calls into question the parentage of the vehicle, as impractical as that might be. Rubbing her head, she drops the fencing mask from the fingers of her left hand. It lands on the street with a thunk.


The main doors of the Hotel Camilla rotate and, presently, a tall man emerges into the night air… preceded by two large, shaggy hounds. They're on leashes simply so as not to run afoul of city ordinances. But, they need their excercise. So, it's a good night for a walk. The dogs immediately trying going in separate directions. "Brutus. Titus. This way." James' voice is clear, commanding. The dogs respond without hesitation, turning in the direction he calls. They're quickly ahead of him, then, nose to the ground, catching what scents haven't been washed away by the rain. Their master, however, has steps slower than they'd like, as he catches the cursing of a familiar voice. "Such language…" he says softly, eyes glittering, expression neutral, as his dogs start to sniff around her equipment. "Are you hurt?"


Still rubbing the back of her head, Desiree turns toward the familiar voice. "Oh, no, just my pride, I guess," she responds, shrugging her good shoulder as she lowers her hand. "This makes it awkward sometimes," she says, indicating the cast. "Kind of like wearing a brick sleeve." Since it's night, the faded bruising on her cheek doesn't really show, but she's removed the bandage from her neck. The scars of a vicious bite show clearly, though they are healing.

Glancing at the dogs, Desiree is forced to say, "What magnificent dogs. Irish wolfhounds, yes?" she queries of James, looking up at him. "I trust they won't bite unless ordered to?" The question is asked with some degree of wariness, albeit not fear. In fact, Desiree doesn't act at all like she did when they first met. There's not an ounce of true fear about her, and she moves with confidence.

The car trunk is closed, the keys removed and pocketed. "And, just for the record, I don't often let out with a string of cursing like that. My mother would roll over in her plush condo in Miami if she heard me talking that way. She raised me to be a lady." There's a certain amount of sarcasm in the words, as if she's not overly fond of her mother.


James' head cants slightly. "To be a lady," he echoes. "Are you, then? A lady? As this era accounts it, I mean." He's curious, though the only real betrayal of it is a slight rising of a brow. He can and has been know to 'play the human', in the sense that he can very much display enough emotion to make anyone believe he is either newly turned or not turned at all. It requires some concentration, but he remembers his old passions, even if he is not much given to them now. However, he has fallen out of the habit and sees no reason to indulge in such play acting. He is neither human nor bothered by the fact it is so. Brutus and Titus nose at the weaponry. The vampire gives the swords a casual glance, before returning his attention to the woman.


Desiree considers the question, canting her head to the side as she leans her butt against the car. "I am," she says, "when I need to be, which is more often than one might think. When you're in my business, you have to play the right parts to get the right jobs. Some casting directors want a lady in front of the camera, and a whore behind the scenes." She lets that digest, looking directly at James. "They get the lady, because I won't prostitute myself just to get a job in a commercial."

Desiree bends over, picking up the fencing helmet, stuffing it in a heretofore unnoticed black duffle bag. That, in turn, is set on the sidewalk next to the case of weapons. "I was supposed to start with the rapier tonight, but my instructor won't teach me until the arm's healed." She reaches up to her neck, fingers worrying at the twin scars. It's an absent move, not meant to draw attention. "What are their names, if you don't mind me asking?" She, of course, means the dogs.


James peers closely at Desiree, now. "You are… a player," he says, using an archaic sense of the term. "A performer upon the stage." His glittering eyes hood partially. "Not a true lady, then." His tone suggests he absorbs that simply as passing information, nothing more. "But not a whore. You're fortunate, then." He turns his attention to fencing helm as she raises it. "It's probably wise for you wait until its properly healed. I've seen men twice your size disabled for their lives by stressing an injury too soon." Then, of course, he shrugs — mostly for her benefit. "Of course, when the choice is pick up a sword or die, it does change a man's priorities." The dogs snuffle through her equipment; he does nothing to stop them. "The pale one is Titus. The darker, Brutus." He does, of course, notice her hand worrying at the wounds. "Who gave you those?"


"I suppose you could say that," Desiree agrees regarding her being a player. "I'm an actress, model and a dancer. I teach dancing when I'm not working on other projects," she admits without shame. "But, no, I'm not so far down on the scale I have to sleep my way into parts." A lift of her mouth gives her an almost sarcastic appearance. "So, no, I'm not a lady in the truest sense of the word, as in I'm not nobility. But lady is less a title and more of an attitude."

"I'm familiar enough with history to know women in the theatre were usually glorified prostitutes, but—" She gives James a shrug in answer to his own. "I'm going to take care of the arm, no worries on that score. I depend upon it too much to do otherwise. It's annoying, but it'll heal, and I'll follow the doctor's orders." She doesn't seem to mind the dogs sniffing her things, as long as they don't heist a leg. "Sounds as if you know a fair amount about weapons. You've faced that choice, to fight or die, before, I'm betting."

It's when James asks about the scars on her neck that she goes rigidly silent. "They're beautiful dogs," she repeats, ignoring the question for the moment. "Titus and Brutus. Interesting choice of names. Betrayers, both, but loyal to those they betrayed. Well, at least Brutus was." Finally, she looks away, looks at nothing. "A vampire out to teach me a lesson," is all she says.


Unfortunately for Darcy, he misses the illuminating distinction between a harlot and a thespian — not to mention Desiree's misguided republicanism. The vampire rolls up to the parking lot in a black, two-door BMW sportscar: its enging rumbling to a halt, the vehicle grows quiet in a parking space. Stepping out of the vehicle is a tall, attractive albeit pale man wearing a fashionably cut, bespoke double-breasted suit. He allows the door to close behind him as the vehicle chimes with the light honk of a car alarm. Darcy's trajectory aims him toward Dahlia; but a scent, a sound, and a memory temporarily cause the man to veer off toward Desiree and James. He keeps his distance, but gives James a curious look; or more precisely, his dogs.


The dogs' heads rise as the well-dressed male emerges from his car. James turns to observe him for a moment, as well, particularly as he approaches. There's no word from him, but the dogs cease their investigation of the breather's equipment and come to heel beside him. Their master's face remains neutral. He doesn't bother to answer Desiree at all. Not presently, at least. He has absorbed what she's said. That's enough, until he knows who the gentleman is.


Desiree is not so wrapped up in the discussion as one might think. She's decently aware of her surroundings, and can actually feel the change in attitude around her. The dogs, in particular, alert her to possible danger, their natural instinct to protect their master. Des takes a moment to glance around, especially after hearing the honk of a car alarm. Keen eyes glance around. She has something solid to her back, therefore the danger must be coming from another direction. Finally, she sees Darcy. She doesn't exactly relax, but he is someone known to her.

"William Pemberly," is all she says, knowing James can hear her. "I met him last night in the rain. He helped me out, but I don't know him beyond that." She doesn't beckon the man over, but does nod in acknowledgement of his presence, even if he is somewhat distant. "He didn't attack me afterwards, at least." Something behind those words.


Darcy is not only acutely aware of James' presence but, more importantly his true nature. A perfunctorily formal bow of his upper torso greets the other vampire, and his human companion receives a slight nod of the chin once Darcy has reassumed an erect posture. The vampire does not linger; having offered only the slightest of greeting -or rather acknowledgement- he rounds the corner and makes his way down the sidewalk toward the velvet-roped entrance of Dahlia. As he approaches, the machine-gun armed doorstaff open the door for the vampire; and keep a keenly alert lookout for trouble before he passes inside the "restaurant."


James doesn't at all acknowledge Desiree as she tells him some about the other vampire. He does acknowledge the the bow with a brief nod, however. The dogs sit at his side. Once the other vampire's retreated into the restaurant — ~Blood cuisine?~ — James returns his attention to the breather at his side. "Sorry," he says briefly. "William Pemberly. Thank you." The name doesn't mean anything to him. Not yet, anyway. He cants his head now, back still errect, dogs still sat patiently at his side. "Do y'mean to say the marks you bear were an attack? By whom? Do you know the name?"


Desiree's eyes follow Darcy's progress to Dahlia, then looks back at James. "You're welcome," she says, still rather over-conscious of her surroundings. She has, apparently involuntarily, pulled out her car keys, holding them in her good hand. The street isn't empty, and a low-riding car drives by, the occupants playing the stereo far too loud. The bass reverberates so much it distorts any lyrics to the song. One of the occupants yells "Blood sucker!" out the window, which is followed by other catcalls.

Afterwards, the car speeds up and roars away into the night. Desiree isn't impressed. "Kids." That's her only comment. Is she avoiding the question James asked? Yes. A little too obviously, in fact. Finally, she turns to him, her face a mask of complete composure. "Yes, it was too dark to see, and no." Quick, cool and snapped out so patently an amateur could see she's evading. "Apparently, some vampires have difficulty controlling their … urges when it comes to us … lambs." There's venom in those words.


Lambs. There aren't too many James knows what use that word for breathers. He doesn't react to it, however, any more than he reacts to the kids in the car on the street. He merely levels a direct, unblinking gaze at the woman. He is preturnaturally still, now, hands clasped lightly in front of him. Even the dogs are still, looking expectant. He knows she lies. He recognizes the venom. He can imagine the reason behind it, but he will not speculate. Instead, he waits with immortal patience, calmly. The only expression he permits on his face is a ghost of his frank disbelief in her lie. Perhaps he expects she will recant. Perhaps he doesn't.


The neighborhood is one that courts vampires specifically, just as other areas court other .. clientele. For kids to yell 'blood sucker' out a window in this area would be like, well, going to the Village in New York City and yelling 'fag'. Sooner or later, those within will get mad enough to retaliate.


Luckily, the vampire population hasn't yet, and so, the children are able to drive away without correction for the evening. No promises are made for tomorrow, should they travel the same path, however…

Marius finds himself in Deep Ellum in search of an elusive vampire. Where would one find a vampire hoping to 'fit in' but in an area with many to the point of it being unremarkable? His pace is slow, his hands in his pocket as he takes his path on the sidewalk, blue eyes as cold and dead as the grave as he searches.

Breather, breather.. each body is counted out, breather.. not..


There is no recanting. After the still silence stretches on for a while, Desiree shrugs. "It happened, I survived. That's all that matters," is muttered as she turns toward her equipment. She kneels beside the case, carefully arranging the weapons inside. There's no indication she plans to come up fighting, or anything like that. It's like she needs to have something occupy her mind.

"You may wonder why I don't mind being around vampires after one of them attacked me," she finally says, kneeling with one knee on the sidewalk, resting her weight on the other bent leg. "It's because I won't let one bad apple spoil the bushel. I know for a fact not all vampires are filled with bloodlust and rage. I work with the American Vampire League, and the vampires there have never treated me with anything but respect."


James continues to regard Desiree. He stands outside the Hotel Carmilla, his dogs sat patiently at his feet. Desiree stands opposite him, near her car, her fencing equipment on the curb. "You've been glamoured," he pronounces after a moment. "If I had to guess, I'd reckon it's something to do with the vampire that attacked you." He purses his lips slightly. "The real question is: Why?"


Vampire.. vampire..

Marius' steps bring him closer to the pair, and the voice that he'd recognize anywhere, through the screams of agony to the yelps of joy and victory.. and another— another he recognizes sends him in that direction at a slightly more brusque pace. The distance is closed easily, and his basso voice rings out a deadpanned, "This is no place for you, James.."

Desiree's position on the ground is given a cursory glance; "Even less so for her."

Marius brings his attention around once more to James and stops finally when he reaches the pair. "I see you've met."


There's a moment when Desiree expresses a myriad of emotions: disbelief, anger, horror. It finally settles in confusion. "Glamour. Isn't that what Faeries did to humans when they enticed them into their underground lairs?" she asks, the words full sarcasm. "Please don't tell me vampires are actually Faerie." She pauses the arranging of weaponry, her good hand on the lid in preparation to closing.

At the sound of that oh-so-familiar voice, Desiree's lips compress, like she's trying to hold something inside. She looks to James, first, ignoring Marius. "Do you mean my attacker did something to my head? Is that what you mean by glamour?" There's doubt in her voice, and her expression is now full of … of hate and revulsion as she looks up at Marius. "I live here. Kind of hard for me to avoid the place, wouldn't you say?" The lid of the case is slammed shut, and Desiree stands up.

"Why're you worried about a lamb?" Desiree asks, her head canted to one side. "I thought we were just around for your amusement and food?" She takes a deep breath, eyes hard as she exhales. "Yes, James and I have met, and were having a fairly pleasant conversation until this whole business of my attack came up."


James turns to greet Marius as he makes his presence known. "Marius," he greets him in kind, letting his expression remain neutral in front of the 'lamb'. "Aye, we have. I met her in the company of an ancient vampire at Bloody Mary's, last night." Her out burst returns his attention to her, but he doesn't overtly react. It's not like he hasn't seen this reaction to his swordbrother before now. He looks over his shoulder at the hotel. "And if this isn't the place for me, where would you suggest we camp?" We meaning the dogs, of course. Those same dogs who have risen from their places beside their master to wag their tails and greet the Whip as if he were an old friend — for all that they only met him the night before, also.


Marius' expression shows nothing.. there is no life behind the 'mask', no light behind the crystalline eyes as he pointedly ignores Desiree for the moment. "Yes, I know the one of which you speak. Odd one, that. Claims he actually likes the lambs."

He allows his gaze to linger upon James for a long moment, his hand rising in greeting to the two 'hounds'.. met, yes, all of a day ago.

"Attack," finally, Marius looks to Desiree, studying her for a moment, looking.. impassive, his expression remaining exactly the same before the other vampire gains his full attention. "Then let it be said to James that he should not ask about such dealings, as it concerns him not."


Desiree remains still, but it's almost like the hate, fear and loathing are vibrating inside her. Her good hand is clenched into a fist so tightly the knuckles are white. Her lips are compressed, her face a stony mask of fury. "Yes. Attack." The words are said directly to Marius, and there's no pretense of politeness. "At the lake," she adds. "About ten minutes after you and … the Good Doctor left." She says this quite calmly, but beneath the composure seethes a woman outraged.

As far as James is concerned, Desiree glances at the other vampire, then back to Marius. "And why shouldn't he ask? I've nothing to hide. I was the victim of a vicious attack in a public place. At least James expressed a certain degree of concern, or at least surprise."

She then regards both vampires. "I'd like an answer. By glamour, do you mean my attacker messed with my head, as well as left me broken and bleeding? After what I went through, I deserve some kind of justice." She looks hard at Marius as she says this.


James regards Desiree again. He hears her words. He also hears Marius': 'he should not ask… it concerns him not'. Were the breather not there, he'd arch a brow at his brother. But, she is. So, he merely offers a slow, neutral blink that could be nothing more than the natural clearing of his eyes. Interestingly enough, however, he doesn't flinch under the Whip's regard at all. "It's possible," he says neutrally. "Define justice." Still regards his brother, however. The dogs lick Marius' palm briefly before they circle back around happily to heel by the master once more. Their tails are up and happy, unbothered by anything in the discussion. Not that they would be, one might suppose.


Marius can feel the hatred and the fear emenating off Desiree.. and while it amuses him on one level, he's already had his fill for the evening and this show only grows tiresome in its display.

"You showed concern or at least surprise, James?" His tones haven't changed, but for a glint that could unlikely go missed by any other but for another vampire. "Ah.. now there you are. Yes," Marius' tones have shifted to the.. almost conversational.. the german accent that is carried wthin causing almost a lilt. That can be as dangerous as his low, calm, deliberate tone.

"Deserve justice? If what James says is true," after all, it was he that mentioned 'glamouring', "I am certain justice can come in many forms. Perhaps, however, not as you would like it."


There's only so much a person can take. Desiree stands there in front of the two vampires, trying very hard not to scream in frustration. Finally, every bit of hatred and anger seems to drain away, siphoned into some inner place where it will remain for awhile. "Yes, justice," she says. "In every sense of the word. I should've gone to Dallas PD, but I didn't. I kept it quiet because I believe in justice for every living thing on this planet— and that includes vampires." She speaks with near preternatual calm, her words sincere. "Even after being attacked— "

She turns to Marius. "How can either of you not be concerned about a vampire attacking innocent people?" Her eyes no longer blaze with fury. "It would bother me if I were in your place. Obviously, Mr. Stockton, James, there is saying what I believe to be true isn't. That somehow, my mind was messed with, and I was made to believe it was you who attacked me." She pauses, studying Marius for a long moment. "If you tell me it wasn't you, I'll accept that. I don't have any other choice, really."

There's silence for a minute or two, then Desiree says, "Doesn't it bother you that another vampire is doing this and blaming it on you? You don't hold us lambs in much regard, but it would piss me off that I was used in such a manner."


James' eyes glitter, as they're wont to do, and hood in that sloe-eyed fashion he has. The dogs stir restlessly at his feet, their tails dropping to a more neutral position. They sniff the air tentatively, watching the street alertly. For his part, however, the vampire listens impassively to the words from coming from the woman's mouth. He doesn't bother to look to Marius. There's no need. He knows his brother wouldn't betray a response before he wished to. So, instead, he focusses his attention on Desiree. She's brought things to a whole new level, and he's still a stranger in this city. What is clear, however, is that the woman knows very little about their Kind. Which means he is smarter to say nothing and let Marius speak. Not only is he the elder, he's the senior. So, James remains silent still. He will discuss some of this with his Maker later, perhaps. That remains to be seen.


"If it were me," there is a harshness that Marius brings to his tones, the germanic clipped sound ever present, "you would not be alive now, so it is foolish to think that I have done such a thing."

Beyond that, however, the vampire makes no further mention of it. However, he spares a flickering glance to James and the dogs, before continuing, "Who else knows of this?" His voice goes quiet, low.. and devoid of any inflection. "And if you were glamoured.." there would be no way that he knows of to drag the information from her head.

"I will consider how one would go about catching a random shadow the deep recesses of a breather's mind." That's easy, right?

"From chasing shadows to chasing shadows.. James, you will have to join me…" for a drink. "I need to continue my business this evening, the conclusion is still some distance away and there is a great deal to do before then.."


"I made no secret of it to those I trust," Desiree says. "Some people at the AVL know, 'cause I called them for help. Braeden MacKiernan sent me to a doctor who could be trusted. Michael knows, of course, and a friend of mine who was also attacked by a vampire." She pauses a moment. "No idea if her attacker was the same as mine, since— " Another pause, and Desiree realizes exactly what Marius really wants to know. "Even when I thought it was you, I never mentioned a name. I just said it was too dark to see. No one even suspects I thought it was you."

There's a longer pause while Desiree fights to keep her calm. Her hand goes to her throat. "Why should I have known it wasn't you? I was left for dead, after all," she mutters darkly as Marius turns away. "All you do is bait me, threaten me, insult me— why should I believe anything else?"

Her hand moves from her throat to her head. "As far as this glamour business," Desiree says, turning to James since Marius is already walking away, "I didn't even know that until you spoke up. I thought that whole mind control bit was out of the movies." She nods toward Marius' retreating back. "Tell him I don't know if the vampires knew I was glamoured. None of them said anything until you did. He'll have to find out for himself what they suspected. My friend Paige is human, so she couldn't know." She looks up at James, since he's a bit taller than she is. "Why isn't he taking the attack on me seriously?"


"I'll be sure to join you before dawn," James says to his friend as the elder vampire takes his leave without another word to the breather, despite her outburst. After the other has left, however, James turns back to Desiree.

"I've known him much of my life," he tells her evenly. "He is right: Had it been him, you wouldn't be here now." The dogs wander back to sniff along the curb, unconcerned. "And to those such as we, there wasn't any doubt as to who you thought it was." Not so subtle as she'd like, perhaps.

"As for the others you've met of our Kind, I can't tell you what they may or may not have sensed. I can tell you that, these days, attacks are taken quite seriously. But, if you don't remember your attacker — no matter whether it's because of a mind trick or not — there's little that can be done."

He pauses now, to consider his words.

"If I have any advice to give you, it's this: Don't speak of the glamouring. Should your attacker hear that you're aware of it, he may return to finish what he started." He doubts she'd like that very much. "If you're fortunate, he's long gone. But, if I were you, I'd play it safe rather than sorry."

He speaks in colloquialisms partly because he's better at it than Marius, and partly because he wants her to understand. He allows the ghost of a humourless smile to touch his features, and allows sincerity and seriousness to reflect in his eyes so she will understand what he's saying. "If Michael or the others at the AVL haven't told you this, they should've: When dealing with vampires, discretion is the better part of valour. Silence can save your life."

It's the one and only warning he'll give… and that simply because she as allied herself with a particularly old vampire, as far as he can tell.


All of the ranting and raving is out of her system, and Desiree simply stands in front of James, as still as a statue. A statue that breathes, as opposed to a vampire. Desiree watches his face as he speaks. She may be human, but she's usually fairly good at reading people. James sounds sincere, but can she be sure he's telling the truth? Logic and emotion war inside her for a moment, and then she seems to give herself a mental shake. Yes, she can believe him.

"I don't know Marius well," she admits, "and all he's done since I met him is be as unpleasant and insulting to me as possible. He frightens me, yes, but I'm not a coward. I've no problem standing up for myself." She takes a breath, exhaling quickly. "The night I was attacked, Marius was there. He was with some woman who was just as insulting and didactic as Marius can be. A 'lamb' as he calls us. So, when a vampire attacked— " Desiree shrugs her good shoulder. "I suppose it was easy to make me think it was him. I don't hate him, you know. I actually respect him more than I do some other vampires."

"I don't usually talk about what I do and don't know about your kind," she tells James. "I don't know why I lost it so bad tonight. I guess it was just building for a while. I was angry no one was doing anything— not even Michael, who wants to lay claim on me, and I won't let him. I suppose you're right, though. How can they when I don't remember the attacker." Desiree leans against her car now, letting her head lean backwards. "I've been passing it off as an accident. People fall and break their arms and legs all the time. It's the bite I can't hide. Even mostly healed, it's still … there. I can't hide it. I'll have to live with that and the other scars he put on me forever."


James gives that hooded smile that seems to be his trademark. "Very few people like Marius, Ms deVilliers. And Marius is not on this Earth to be liked. He is on this Earth for one purpose; it's a purpose he fulfills well, and that's enough for me." It's also all he'll say about him. He has no further advice to give her. With that same patience he displayed before in the midst of the storm that was (and is) Marius, he listens to what she says. The dogs come to sit by his side once more. He reaches out a hand to absently scritch the top of Titus' head. "Michael was doing something: He offered to make you his; it would protect you — at least from another attack." He doesn't bother to add, as Marius inevitably would, that it's more than she has a right to expect. Most vampires really don't give a rat's tail about breathers beyond the context of 'lunch'.


"Michael is a good friend, and someone I trust, but I don't want to belong to anyone. I had that when I was married, and it wasn't a good fit. A claim sounds just too much like being owned." Desiree folds her good arm across her abdomen. "It would protect me from attacks by those who obeyed the laws, but the kind of vampire who did this to me— ? I doubt very much rules and laws matter much to him. Doors and locks are to keep honest people inside, not dishonest people out." She speaks in cliches, now.

"Somewhere out there is a vampire who knows me, but I don't know him. I won't know him until he reveals himself to me, and by then, it'll be too late. No claim can protect me if that happens." A sigh. "None of this may matter a damn to vampires, but it matters to me. I was the victim, and I'm still a victim because my attacker was too clever by far." Desiree closes her eyes, shaking her head. "Don't worry, I won't mention the glamouring. Maybe my attacker will screw up and reveal himself. I won't hold my breath it'll happen, but I won't give up hope."

Desiree looks to James, watching him scratch the dog's head. "I know it probably doesn't matter much to you, but thanks for the advice. Next time I'm in Bloody Mary's, I'll buy you a drink." She gives him a smile, and nods in respect.

"And you can call me Desiree. I'm not a formal person."


James gives a simple nod in response to her words. It's her choice, how she responds — whether or not she accepts the other vampire's claim. James has made claims on humans in the past, but has none presently; nor does he feel the need for any. He moves his hand to scritch behind Brutus' ears, as well. He's also said about as much as he cares to on the subject. Any more, and he'll be divulging secrets best left… well, secret. "I should continue on my walk," he says presently. "Titus and Brutus have been very patient, all day, but they've needs I'd best attend." A beat. "Take care of yourself, Desiree. I expect we may meet again."

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