Dem Bones

Bloody Mary's

Given to irony, Bloody Mary's Bar is decorated primarily in black and varying shades of red. From the black bench seats and chairs, black tables, black walls with chilling red blood flowing down them in a continuous manner, it's quite obvious why this bar has the name it does. Deep red mahogany makes up the floor and bar. Dangling red star lights illuminate the bar, lending to it's somewhat creepy look.

Saturday evening and Bloody Mary's is a little less crowded than usual. That just makes it easier for Desiree to find those for whom she looks. She enters the bar, stepping to one side of the door, pausing to remove the leather coat she wears. Droplets of water from the storm outside fall to the floor, are ignored by her and everyone else. After all, there's a trail of wet foot prints where others have entered wet from the thunderstorms.

Unfortunately, those she wants to find aren't present. She scans all the tables, but her search is in vain. Michael, Marius and James are conspicuous in their absence. She sees a few familiar faces, and offers polite, respectful nods as they meet her eyes, but Desiree moves forward with a purpose, apparently willing to wait to see if any of the three show up.

There is a table she prefers. A booth, actually. Toward the back, in the shadows. So, it's to that particular booth she heads, taking a seat with her back to the wall, and a clear line of sight to the door. A drink is ordered from the waitress: champange and orange juice. A mimosa, her usual.


Bones watches her scan the room for what he presumes is a specific set of familiar eyes glancing back, that assumption made when he sees the very slight hint of defeat on her expression, followed by the resolve she has to get into the dark corner. Bones makes the decision to follow her without thinking, somewhere subconsciously knowing that her actions flag her as wanting time alone, but ignoring that face. She might not want his company specifically, but she wants somebody's, and he'd just have to do until her prince charming actually showed.

Leaving his True Blood at the bar, he heads in her direction with heavy-booted thumps across the hardwoord floors, a grin creeping over his features on the way over. While his clothes had dried since stepping in from the rain, his hair still looked almost entirely soaked, a lot of it covering his face, which only made his smile all the more … unsettling.

He stops at her table, and after smiling at her for a few seconds, he speaks in a sudden burst of enthusiastic energy.

"Yo!" he starts in greeting, and slicks his hair back to get most of it out of his face, a few wet strands returning on their own. "Name's Bones! Nice to meetcha!" He turns to grab a chair from a nearby table, and spins it around to place in front of the booth, allowing him to sit directly across from her.


It's easy to know when someone's following you, and Desiree is anything but unobservant while she's in the vampire bar. In fact, it's almost like she has eyes in the back of her head; the feeling of being "watched" is unsettling enough to act as warning to her. After she sits and orders her drink, the approach of a stranger isn't quite unexpected, but his appearance is slightly off-putting.

Desiree blinks at the enthusiastic greeting, certain she's never met this vampire before. That he is one of the undead is unquestioned; she is, after all, in a vampire bar, and knows other humans aren't likely to approach in such a manner. Green eyes study the man who claims himself to be "Bones."

Falling back on years of good manners, Desiree nods respectfully — albeit his demeanor and dress doesn't peg him as being a particularly formal kind of guy. "Desiree," is offered in return. No need to invite him to sit; he's already doing that. "I don't believe we've met before. Are you new to Dallas?" she asks, head canting to the right as she looks at him.


Bones sits up in his seat at her presumption. "New? Ha-ha! Nah, been here comin' on two-hundred years now. Let's just say I've been layin' low." He grins. "More like invisible, actually. Fact is, I ain't even met another vamp since the fuckin' 50s, but I figure if the dead guys in charge ain't sent somebody to stake me, I ain't fuckin' up too bad. Now vampires are out of the casket, though, figured s'bout time to learn to start socializin', right?"

His voice has a grungy, heavy metal singer quality to it, but he speaks with a comforting level of brutal honesty. About as aloof as playful puppy.

"Don't worry your sweet face though. I'll slip out once somebody you recognize steps in. I just figured I'd keep ya company till whoever it is yer waitin' on slips in through that door." He tosses a thumb over his shoulder aimed at the main entrance, clarifying which door he meant.


There's a wince at the crude language, but Desiree's heard the words before. Not like people in and around her profession don't use it, and she's said it more than once herself. It's just having it so easily used in his sentences that makes Desiree take notice. That and the fact this particular vampire isn't anything like others she's met. Where Marius, James and even Michael have that stone cold inhumanity about them, this guy is … different.

"Laying low…?" She says the words with a degree of curiosity, watching Bones while he talks. "Well, if it's any consideration, you're invisibility worked. This's the first time I've seen you, at least." A smile creeps onto her face. There's just something … charming? … about him, a quality in his manner and speech Desiree finds interesting.

His comment about slipping away makes her shake her head. "I'm not really expecting anyone," she explains. "It's more a case of if they show up, I'll take advantage of the opportunity. If they don't — well, the drinks are good, and I like to watch people interact." Her drink arrives, and she takes care of the bill. "Do you want something to drink?" she asks politely, nodding to the departing waitress.


Bones gives a single nod at her initial question, the action causing some of his hair to slip back over his eyes, which he promptly fixes again.. more or less. "Yeah. See, I didn't really figure this out till recently, but I'll let you in on a little secret."

Grin still firmly in place, he checks over each shoulder in an obviously satirical way, and then leans in a bit as if about to tell a secret, though his voice is just as loud as ever, which means that not only can some nearby humans more than likely overhear him, but every vampire in the room.

"I'm a really shitty vampire, ha-ha!" He leans back in his chair and gives a slap to his knee at the humerous confession. "Turns out we're supposed to fuckin integrate into human culture! Nobody told me that shit. I'd been livin' more like a damn cougar than a human. Y'know, just sorta pickin' one off when the rest weren't look —" He pauses, and the grin fades as he realizes … oh yeah, he's talking to a human.

"Er, right." He rubs the back of his neck, and offers an apologetic smile. "Well, whatever. Nobody's here to listen to my history. Oh, and I don't need nothin' to drink. I had a True over at the bar. I'm golden."


Desiree resists the urge to quirk an eyebrow and say "Fascinating," ala Spock in "Star Trek." Instead, she merely smiles, sipping the frothy drink she ordered. "What makes you think you're a shitty vampire?" she asks, wiping her lips on a napkin. All right, so she does use the same language he does; when in Rome, and all that stuff.

Regarding Bones once more, Desiree chuckles as he stops talking, and looks a little embarrassed. "Don't worry about it," she tells him. "Talking about what you did won't bother me. I've seen that side of vampires up close and personal." She lifts a hand to rub the side of her neck; there are two very obvious scars which look like the result of rough feeding.

Still, Desiree doesn't seem upset. Her expression is rather amused, and she even goes so far as to encourage him. "I'm here, and I'm listening," she tells Bones. "What is your history, anyway? And how'd you come to be called 'Bones?'"


Bones actually sits up from his chair and leans in up close, putting a palm flat on the table in between them so he can better see the scars. "Wow, nice," he says as he sits back down, his very heavily overworked key chain giving a jingle with all the keepsakes and keys on it.

"Kinda weird though, aint it? I mean. like, if he wanted to kill ya, woulda been real easy. If he wanted to force you to hold still so he could bite you clean, that woulda been real easy, too, right? That means the fucker just got off on on drama. That's kinda fucked up."

He shrugs his shoulders, seemingly indifferent to how horrific the event must have been for her. "Course, you gotta be braver than a rabid wolverine to step foot in this place after that went down, so, Kudos! He-he-he."

He tries to wipe away the pesky hair dangling in front of his face yet again, failing once more, but ignoring his failure. "I'll tell you what. I'll give you the basics of my story in exchange for a slice of yours. My unlife was pretty damn borin' for the most part." He looks up at the ceiling for a moment, trying to remember the details. "All right, uh, I'll just gloss over the livin' part, I suppose. I was a pirate."

"I mean, I hate usin' that word since what we were sorta mutated over the years in the public eye — 'specially after that stupid Johnny Depp movie. Ain't no fuckin' magic curses or overflowin' chests of gold I ever run into. Bein' a pirate is just three months of borin' starvation, followed by ten minutes of takin' on board cargo that was just surrendered to ya by some quiverin' pile of merchant jelly. Then, another month of borin' starvation before you cash in, live nice partyin' till ya puke, then back to six months of borin' starvation."

"Oh, and Bones? Was just a nickname given after a particularly bloody little scuffle. I killed fourteen men in one evenin', and they just decided Bones was scarier, so they gave it to me. Simple as that."


True to her words, Desiree listens. Her chin is propped on her hands, elbows on the table. Eyes study Bones as he tells her she's brave to be around vampires after an attack. A fleeting glimpse of darkness can be seen in her expression: a combination of fury, anger and something undecipherable.

But it's gone almost as soon as it showed up. "Not so brave," she says. "I just don't blame all vampires for the actions of one," she explains, shrugging a shoulder.

His life story is interesting, and Desiree listens with enjoyment. The description of a pirate's life piques her interest, especially when he mentions the Depp movie. "I didn't watch those films for a history lesson," she confesses, an almost wicket sparkle in her eyes. "They were pure eye-candy. I've done enough reading about the 17th Century to know real pirates were a bloodthirsty lot."

As confirmed by the story of how he got his name. "Fourteen men. Wow." Desiree appears suitably impressed. It's not like she knew those men, so it doesn't seem to bother her. She's detached from the reality, since it happened a long time in the past. "When was that?" she asks, truly interested. "I mean, how long've you been a vampire?"


Bones leans back in his chair, his own expression dropping a touch at the mention of blaming vampires. "This is gonna sound fucked up, but personally, if I was human? I'd fuckin' hate vampires. I mean, when you think about it, we're just invincible fleas, y'know? Course, I suppose it's like hatin' every single German who ever was just for a couple a world wars, so, whatever."

As she began her talk of the films, he rolls his eyes about as wide as they possibly can roll. "Tell ya the truth? — plenty of us wern't even bloodthirsty, just desperate. Maybe that's why I got turned, eh? Maker saw a man who wern't afraid of doin' what it took to survive."

He chuckles a little, and looks off to the side for a few moments of thought, eyes shifting back to her at her question about the date. "Aw, fuck. I'm terrible at dates. All right, uh … lesse here. Was born in sixteen-seventy … two. And, I remember bein' thirty-two when I was turned. That would make it … uh, fuck."

Math clearly isn't strong suit, but he goes silent for a second to figure it out. "Been dead now for three-hundred-and-one years, I think. Assumin' I did the math right, which is a big assumption on my part."


"A lot of my friends expected me to hate vampires after the attack," Desiree says openly. There's something about this vampire which brings out the truth in her. "For awhile, I guess I did, since I let my dark side drive off a very good vampiric friend." She doesn't sound particularly upset or sad about this, but says, "I miss his friendship, but I don't want to be claimed by him — or any other vampire. It might make some vampires leave me alone, but not all of them."

She pauses, taking a deep sip of her drink. "Be that as it may, I would like to have justice, but I doubt that'll happen anytime soon." A touch of bitterness there. "Anyway." She seems to almost physically shake off something dark. "Desperate men do desperate things. It makes otherwise ordinary men into outlaws, brogands and swashbucklers. Maybe that's what your Maker saw." Another shrug.

Math. The bane of her existence. "Hey, don't look at me," Desiree says, sitting back and holding up both hands. "I can't add two and two and come out with the same answer twice. That's why God invented calculators. I don't do the math thing." Nonetheless, she tries to add it all up. "That sounds about right. Three-hundred years. Were you turned by another pirate?"


Bones doesn't smile quite so much when Desiree speaks of her past, though clearly he is still in good spirits. Perhaps he let the smile fade just a little bit out of respect for her demons. "Yer dark side? This ain't "Star Wars," kiddo. You gotta own up to your decisions as bein' all you. Yer mood is parta who you are, y'know? If I get mad and kick a puppy, I can't blame the anger. It was my damn foot."

The philosophy of Bones the pirate, now available in a three volume set. "But bein' friends with a vampire don't mean you gotta be his or her pet, y'know? You can meet on an even playin' field right? S'what we're doin', just sittin' and talkin' about what led us into Bloody Mary's on this particular little stormy night. I sure as shit ain't gonna feed my immortal ego talkin' about bein' a dirty ass pirate."

He chuckles again, never once failing to find humor in his words or hers. "And, hey now, it's your turn to share a little back story, eh? So far it's pretty much all been the Bones' show. All I got outta you was a name, a scar, and some talk about missin' a vampire buddy — who, by the by, I think you should try and get in touch with again. Provided they're willin' to let shit be the way it needs to be."


One would ordinarily think a woman who's spent most of her life in front of cameras would have no trouble talking about herself. In many ways, Desiree is like the precieved image of such a woman; in others, not so much. When confronted with Bones asking of her life, she chuckles, finding the entire situation bizarrely amusing. "My life? — not nearly as interesting as being a pirate, I'm sure," she says, a twinkle in her eyes.

Even so … "I spent much of my early life on a stage or a runway. My mother was a former beauty queen, so that's what she wanted for me. I got all kinds of lessons — singing, acting, dancing. Loved the dancing, still do." She smiles, settling back in her chair and draining her glass.

"Mom drove me hard, but Dad was too much of a wimp to stop her. 'Round about my 11th birthday, things came to a head. Big fight. Dad finally stood up to Mom, and she divorced him. I stayed with Dad — who started drinking and finally killed himself in the back yard. I got married, found out my husband was a weakling like my Dad, and divorced him. I have a business, and I live my own life now."

She stops talking, lifting a hand for the waitress. Desiree orders another drink, then smiles. "There you have it. The Reader's Digest version of my life. I know who I am, and what I am, and if I have a few quirks, well, I earned them."


Bones sits patiently, smiling at her as she explains her life in a nice series of bite-sized, easily digested chunks. His eyes and ears watched and listened with a clarity that was surprising given his blunt demeanor and tragically limited vocabulary, but even without the wisdom that came with age, it seems pretty clear that there's quite a bit of pain and/or regret deeply stashed in the corners of her heart. He chooses not to dig that up, at least not directly.

"The modeling and dancing thing don't surprise me one bit. You're definitely the… wait." He looked over his shoulder again, scanning the room of the vast majority of faces, then turned back in his seat. "Yeah, just had to confirm it. You're definitely the most stupidly gorgeous chick in here. Glad you snagged somethin' from your youth that you could keep up a passion for though. That's what I like about humans that I try to emulate y'know? You guys have a fire in ya that's real easy to lose when ya live forever and run out of shit to do, hehehe. I do hate to call a lil bit of bullshit on you again though, that part about knowin' who you are?" He actually sat up a bit in his chair and leaned forward again, elbows on the table. "Again, I ain't pretendin' to be the smartest guy you'll meet, but I do have a few years on ya, and I'd bet everything I had that you're probably a lot of things you ain't even discovered yet, and a lot you never even will. I mean, you only been faced with a tiny lil amount of the decisions and situations yer gonna be faced with, and each one is gonna teach you a lil bit more."

He sat back up again. "I don't care if you're three thousand years old, you ain't seen everything there is to see yet, and so you don't know all of you cuz you ain't seen how you'll feel about it." He looks off to the side once more, and rubs the back of his head. "Shit, there I go again. I hate motherfuckers who just sit and act like a know it all and give out advice that they weren't asked for. Sorry bout that, I'll keep my two cents to m'self."


"No, don't, please," Desiree requests, an odd soberness in her demeanor. "You have a unique way of cutting through the bullshit, and getting to the heart of a matter. Of course I don't know everything about myself. No one does." She pauses as the waitress sets down her second drink, paying the girl before she leaves. "I probably won't ever know myself, 'cause things change … sometimes minute by minute."
A sip is taken of her second mimosa, and a grin touches her face. "Dancing is my passion, you're right about that. I don't know what I'd do if I couldn't dance. Probably waste away slowly." There is a chuckle. "I don't mind the advice, Bones. Hearing another person's point of view helps me separate the pros and cons, the ups and downs. I told you, I'm a good listener — and I remember things I'm told."
Desiree is quiet a few minutes, as if digesting what Bones had to say. "Thanks for the compliment, by the way. It's nice being told I'm gorgeous. Believe it or not, I haven't heard that a lot lately. Vain, I suppose, but I like being told I'm pretty. Boosts the spirits, you know?" Desiree turns a positively brilliant smile on Bones, one that encompasses her entire face. "You're the first vampire I ever felt equal to, like I'm talking to someone who doesn't see me as a possession or lunch. Thank you for that."


Bones looks up at her almost immediate reassurance that he hasn't crossed the line, and a grin is plastered across his expression almost immediately. "Well, was just sayin' what I was thinkin', that's all. Can't really give me any credit for just pushin' the voice in my head down and outta my mouth for a few minutes. I'm just sayin', bein' too confidant in who you are is like plantin' your feet too hard into the earth, like bein a big solid oak tree."

"When a hurricane comes around, you're gonna fall right the fuck over, when you coulda just gone with the flow, y'know?" He takes a few seconds pause after that. "Did that make sense? Again, just sorta streams outta my mouth, he-he." He watches her take a sip of her drink, wondering what it would taste like had he still the taste for anything other than blood, but her voice snaps him out of his internal questions.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, sure. But of course you ain't gettin told that too much, you sit here in this dark corner by yourself, from the sounds of it, waitin' on your standard 'too cool for school' vampire to walk in and totally pretend like he's seen hotter chicks like a hundred times. Tell you what, I'll get myself one of them books that has all the words of the same meanin' in it, and find a new one for pretty to call you every time we meet up — assumin' we ever meet again. That way, you get your ego boost without havin' to worry about it bein' a setup to gettin' fanged or fucked, ha-ha!"

As he laughs, he lifts up his wrist to look at his watch, and suddenly his expression drops. "Aw, fuck me. All right, I gotta start gettin' the fuck outta here. Dawn ain't for a few hours yet, but I actually have an errand or two I wanted to run before gettin' back to my place."

He looks back up at her, having almost not heard her comment about being equals. He smiles big and stands up from his chair. "Hey, it's no problem. Was just lookin' for a good conversation to pass the time. Would get borin' real quick if I treated you as anythin' more or anythin' less, right? That shit's just politics, and I hate politics. Course, if you want me to kiss your ass a little bit sometime? I could probably do that, y'know … in exchange for a TrueBlood. Sound fair to you? Ha-ha!" He holds out a hand to her, waiting for it to be either shaken or ignored. It doesn't seem like he cares much either way.


"I used to speak my mind," Desiree says with a hint of regret. "I stopped when I started hanging around vampires." She gives a rueful smile. "Politics — let's not even get into that, all right? I understand the need for a hierarchy and rules, but politics I'd just as soon leave alone." A shake of her head. "Just too complicated."

She watches Bones as he rises, and looks slightly disappointed he's leaving. "I'm very glad to have met you, Bones." The words sound quite sincere, with just the right degree of warmth for someone who's just met a person they know will become a friend. "You've given me a lot to think on, and there most certainly will be a next time we meet. You can take that to the bank."

There's a grin on her face as he talks of finding other words for pretty. "You want a thesaurus, but you don't have to compliment me to keep me around." The proffered hand is taken. Hers is soft and smooth, the skin warm to the touch. "Sure, that's fair enough — but you don't have to kiss my ass or anything. Just be yourself. That's fine with me." When she releases his hand, and he turns to leave, Desiree whispers, "Looking forward to that next time," her smile now a tiny bit wistful.


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