kenoslogs | 2023 catch-all

Entry tags:

2023 catch-all

Who: Liem & various
What: Catch-all for non-event threads
Where: Various
When: Throughout the rest of 2023
Warnings: Will be in headers as appropriate

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ He probably shouldn't be here, to be honest.

The moment he walks through the door, he can tell that he doesn't fit the vibes of this place; the stink-eye given to him by the first server who greets him just seals the deal. But you know what? That guy can get fucked. He's already a little buzzed from a drink elsewhere, he's not in the mood to go walking much further at the moment, and he's never been the type to balk at a pointed stare thrown his way, so. Gen looks the server dead in the eye as he walks past and heads straight for one of the booths deeper in the establishment.

He almost walks straight by that table littered with empty glasses, and physically does a double-take before circling back a few paces once he realizes who's sitting there. ]

Liem? [ The lighting here is dim, but -- he looks fucked up, right? He's definitely looking fucked up. Not his clothes or his styling (as prissy and perfect as every), but those cracks in his skin. Gen squints at him for a moment before giving a low snort. ] Nothing? I'm just here for a drink. But since you're asking -- I won't say no if you're gonna buy me a drink.

[ Said as he plunks himself down on the seat opposite Liem, then casually flags down a passing waiter to order 'something strong.' Delightful! Although -- despite how casually obnoxious he's being, there's a pointed pause where Gen studies Liem for a moment longer before speaking up. ]

Didn't take you for the type to let yourself go so much. [ A slight nod towards those empty glasses; a pointy canine ear flicks. ] S'that how you have the energy to be so prim and proper all the time? Gotta vent once in a while?

[In a way, Gen's commitment to his crappy teenager routine is comforting to Liem, who dreads the idea of this particular image filtering back out to Kenos at large to affect his reputation. That's one of the reasons why he'd chosen this bar to get trashed in; he is pathologically incapable of caring about the opinions of the kind of "people" who would be regulars here, and certainly none of his social circles would include any of their ilk.

He had not been expecting to see anyone he knew here — certainly not Gen. But despite that, the lack of reaction goes a little way towards smoothing his ruffled feathers. He doesn't even object as the young man flags down a server and helps himself to a drink on Liem's dime.

With a level look aimed Gen's way, he asks,] Do you feel full of energy after spending a night deep in your cups?

[Because personally, Liem is expecting to feel like death warmed over tomorrow. Copious amounts of alcohol have never treated him kindly; frankly, he's surprised that he hasn't succeeded in making himself sick yet. But perhaps the recent regularity with which he's fallen into the habit of drinking blood has something to do with that.

As if to punctuate this question, he lifts a delicate handkerchief to his mouth — and coughs violently into it. When he takes the little square of fabric away, tiny red flowers cascade onto the tabletop. He brushes them aside with a hand.]

It's not a habit, [he says. He just… ended up here. But there is nothing tentative about his seat at the bar table, or the pull he takes from the stout glass in front of him.]

[ Damn. Liem's really not in a good place, huh. Gen raises an eyebrow at the uncharacteristically sarcastic response he gets, then -- kneejerk, without really thinking -- responds with an equally dry: ]

Usually takes a bit more than that [ jerking his head towards the cups laid on the table ] to get me feeling shitty in the morning.

[ Oh, the benefits of being young, huge, and in possession of a healthier liver than he really deserves. (Let's not talk about his crispy lungs.)

Still, as shitty as he is, Gen isn't all mindless cruelty. And there's nothing particularly enticing about the prospects of kicking a guy when he's already down -- especially not when Liem is looking particularly pathetic today, between the alcohol and the sickly-anime-mom-coughs. Though he'd been fixing a long stare on Liem, Gen looks aside when the waiter brings him his drink (a nice, strong, but no-frills beer, Liem might be happy to note; nothing that'll break the bank for him) and takes a sip before leaning forward to place it on the table alongside Liem's many empties. It's at a deadpan when he asks -- ]

What's the occasion, then.

[ He can guess, of course. The days stuck in that miserable chamber hadn't treated anyone particularly kindly, and he knows Liem probably has his own demons he'd been forced to face down there. But he's never had much practice being frank, being gentle -- and so Gen prods, instead. Surely Liem will talk if he's poked hard enough. ]

Figured a guy like you would go someplace way more prissy. Someplace with the same vibe as those cooking classes of yours. Just wanted to try something different, hm? [ As if. ]

[Gen’s answer earns a faint noise of disgust from Liem. No — of course a few rounds of drinks don’t make a dent on a big, strapping young man like him. He recalls the disdain that Gen had for the cold as well, treating a walk in the snow like it was just pleasantly brisk, while Liem wrapped himself up like a mummy.

Well, that’s nothing new. If only one of them ends up with a brutal hangover tomorrow, it’s better if it ends up being Liem regardless. Despite his morose mood, he still wouldn’t wish that kind of misery on Gen when he knows he has enough going on already.

There’s a silent moment after Gen asks his question, as Liem regards his choice of drink with a blank, impassive look. Despite his prim posture and the almost statuesque look of his pale, fractured face, his eyes manage to hold a wealth of exhaustion in their gaze.]

Why would I go somewhere nice just to get drunk? [he says eventually.

If he goes somewhere nice, somewhere people he knows might actually want to go, someone might see him, might want to talk to him. He didn’t come here to chat with neighbourhood acquaintances; he came here to pickle his brain until he either came to some kind of decision or just lost the ability to care about how much of a mess his life was.

But he still isn’t nearly drunk enough to have hit either threshold.]

Nice people don’t come to a place like this. Unless they want to be drunk from — but that’s still a bit deviant, isn’t it.

[Said with all the brittle condescension of someone who has more than once spent his Saturday night getting fucked up in a dive bar, and then had to haul his hungover carcass to church bright and early the next morning.]

What are you doing here, Gen? I hope you didn’t come here with the same purpose that I did.

[ That first question is answered with a shrug. ]

You think I know anything about nice bars? [ The best his hometown had had was shitty little dive bars or family restaurants or grungy karaoke places. (And also, he was and still is technically underage.) Ergo, he has no idea why people would go to nice bars. ] You look like the type to go to those places. Figured you'd wanna get drunk there, too. Instead of a seedy place like this.

[ He's never been good at subtlety, and it's said loud enough to earn a stink-eye from one of the passing servers. Which Gen notices, but ignores, because right now he's talking to Liem.

Case in point, he maintains eye contact with Liem even as he sits forward to pick up his beer, taking a long swig, before putting the glass back down with a heavy thump. ]

For me -- what d'you think? It's a bar. I came here to get drunk.

[ 'Like you did,' being the implication. Then, after a pause -- the leather of his seat creaks when he leans forward to give Liem a toothy, shark-like grin. His words are slower when he adds at a drawl -- ]

Or, what. If you were hoping that's not it ... Were you hoping I came here to get drunk from? [ Those words are fringed with a laugh, because the thought of himself being a 'nice person' is hilarious. As if. ] I guess I am a bit of a deviant, if you wanna call it that.

[ The Liem he knows would probably act all nonplussed and a little flustered at this. He's looking forward to it. ]

[Gen would probably be surprised to know the calibre of bar that Liem is most used to ending up at. Back home, he only tended to visit bars when he wanted to blow off some steam, and forget about all the parts of his life that were related to his sensible, respectable career at his fancy, important church. That meant that he intentionally chose the seediest, most hole-in-the-wall joints he could find, ones frequented by freaks and deviants who wouldn't bat an eye at the presence of someone with strange eyes and sharp teeth among them. He's far more used to bars like that than he is to the sort of clubs where upscale gentlemen might enjoy a classy evening drink.

But even so, when Gen suggests that he might be looking to join the local population of weirdos looking to get bitten, Liem rewards him with a faint scowl.]

Don't even suggest that.

[He takes another unhappy sip from the short glass of pale amber liquor in front of him. He doesn't want to think about some nasty vampire sinking their fangs into Gen just because he had too much to drink and didn't know any better.]

I saw you, you know. Answering Claude's question over communion, a couple weeks ago.

[The very definition of: "I saw her at the witches' sabbath." Girl, what were you doing at the witches' sabbath? (The Zenith-only witches' sabbath.) But suffice to say, he knows he isn't the only one with reasons to be getting trashed in a bar in Highstorm this month.]

Looks like we're both back where we started, aren't we?

[ Liem's (righteous) indignity at his suggestion about being a vampire's juicebox just earns an eyeroll as Gen fetches his glass up to take another sip. He has plenty of blood, what's one little bite or two going to do? ~~Maybe it'll even feel good, if it's a hot vampire chick.~~ Instead, it's the mention of their new place with Zenith that has Gen narrowing his eyes; the upward perk of his canine ears make it clear he's paying more attention now.

And in response to Liem's glum commiseration --

Gen promptly grabs up the cushion lining his seat and flings it across their little table to bean Liem in the face. ]

Don't give me that crap.

[ At least that spectacularly rude gesture was made after Liem had lowered his glass, so he's not dealing with a faceful of spilt drink. Gen huffs as he eases back into his (now-cushionless and less comfortable sip), taking a long chug of his beer before speaking again. ]

I'm back where I know I always belonged -- you think I ever really had a place on that side? Give me a fucking break. Don't put me in the same category as you. [ Spectacularly rude! But -- there's some sort of point under all that brusqueness. Namely: ] 'cause I never got why you were ever on this side to begin with. You always seemed like you belonged over there more. Same way you look fucking miserable sitting here 'cause you don't fit in. How bad did you fuck up down there to end up like this, huh?

[The suddenness of having a cushion hurled into his face manages, for a clear moment, to startle the blank, gloomy look from Liem's expression. As he grabs hurriedly at the cushion to ensure that it doesn't topple down onto his drink, he looks taken aback, and even a little angry, the wrinkle between his brows causing more of those little hairline cracks to spread over his skin. He starts up from his seat, half standing and gripping the offending cushion to his chest with one hand. His voice is brittle.]

I don't need a lecture from a boy who thinks that my life is a joke.

[He knows that it's not fair to expect Gen to understand him, when the younger man probably still thinks of vampires as something straight out of a campfire story or dramatic production. The eyeroll that he earned with his disgust for the idea of associating with blood-drinkers didn't escape his notice; and really, why should Gen feel any differently?

But he's spent too much of the evening being critical of himself to ignore the sting of ridicule hurled his way by someone he wants to think well of him. And he's spent too much of the evening drinking to think better of giving that sting a voice so that it can bite back.]

But I wouldn't dare insult you by putting the two of us in the same category, Gen. You want to insist that you don't belong with Meridian? You still don't know a single thing about me if you think that there is anywhere I belong.

[ Oh? So Liem actually does have a backbone from time to time.

Liem half-rises, and Gen languidly slouches deeper into his seat, only raising an eyebrow in response to that show of (rightful) indignity. Even the insult of having his age pointed out is seemingly ignored, like it's below his notice, and Gen only fixes a flat stare on Liem for a moment over the rim of his glass as he takes another sip. (But in contrast to that facade of stoic carelessness, a pointy canine ear twitches. His tail gives one agitated lash, thumping lightly against the leg of his seat.) ]

I dunno, Liem. I thought I knew enough about you -- you're really hurtin' my feelings, acting so cold. Have you really been keeping that secrets from me?

[ A straight-laced dhampir. Fucking boring nerd with a stick up his ass. Liem is the sort of person he would have largely avoided back home, because interacting with him would have only guaranteed conflict. The educated sort, way too conscientious and formal. ... the type to work hard, and try to care for people without getting anything in return. A decent person. ]

Go ahead, then. [ Gen raises his glass in mock toast as he gives a small nod. ] Tell me what I'm missing. And you better lay it out real proper-like, since I'm just a stupid kid. What do I know?

Tell me 'bout yourself, Liem.

[It’s possible that Liem may have followed up his vitriol with something else, in the face of Gen’s straight-faced unconcern, were he not suddenly doubled over by another truly undignified, retching cough, and forced to hack up a long bit of plant just bristling with tiny red flowers. The spectacle is unpleasantly like that of a cat hacking up a hairball, and seems wildly at odds with his painstakingly tidy, manicured appearance.

Liem stares at Gen, panting slightly with his hand covering his mouth, the cushion slumped and half-forgotten against his thigh, and the foxtail-shaped bunch of flowers lying on the table between them. He's still not drunk enough for this shit.]

Curious all of a sudden, are we?

[Cautiously, as though expecting another bunch of blossoms to leap out of his mouth the moment he lowers his guard, Liem drops his hand. A little pettily, he repositions the hurled cushion atop his own, and just sits down on the both of them. The flower he brushes aside to join a growing pile next to his collection of empty glasses.

Regarding Gen across the table, he knocks back the rest of his glass, and sighs.]

I didn't say you were stupid.

[He is still keeping the cushion, though. Brat.]

Besides, it's simple enough. I'm just a bastard of nature, who's spent a lifetime cleaning up garbage so normal people don't have to. A dog like me, you keep on your land because he's useful. You don't let him in your house.

[ Throughout the coughing, the fidgeting, that quiet answer, Gen retains his neutral demeanor -- staring silently at Liem as he slowly drains his glass. Only once it's empty, he pulls it away from his lips to give a low, noncommittal hum in answer, like the explanation is barely anything notable.

Of course, since he's finished his drink, he needs to replenish it first? Gen looks aside to flag down one of the passing waiters, holding up his glass to request a refill and giving a vague wave of the hand in thanks. At least it doesn't take long for the waiter to return with a full glass; Gen promptly takes a long swig, then lets out a satisfied sigh.

And only once he's placed the glass back down -- ]

But people do want you around. [ Even if he's not permitted to sit on the metaphorical couch, or whatever. ] So you must be good at your job. Keep your head down, do as you're asked, clean up garbage for those normal people who won't even appreciate you. ... isn't that what they call a productive member of society? The sorta person worth worth respecting.

[ So his assumptions were right, in the end. Liem's a good person, who never should have come to this side.

Gen slouches deeper into his seat, sighing once more as he tips his head back to look up at the ceiling. ]

... I wouldn't do any of that shit, if I were in your shoes. I'd tell the normal people to go fuck themselves, to wipe their own asses. But you wouldn't do that, huh?

[When Gen catches the attention of a passing server, Liem takes the opportunity to get himself another glass as well. Moderation isn’t the theme of this particular night, and he fully intends to keep ordering drinks until the staff cut him off or his flower-coughing affliction makes drinking any more impossible. So far, his fits are intermittent enough that they’re still mostly just a source of irritation.

But he’s aware that he’s not presenting a particularly respectable front, which is why he’s in a hole like this instead of anywhere that he’d expect his own acquaintances to frequent. Frankly, it’s pretty rude of Gen to show up here regardless.]

No one respects an inquisitor, Gen. I just make people nervous. Every single person has things to hide that make them afraid to have anyone ask too many questions around them — even victims.

[Liem drinks mechanically, barely even tasting the liquor as he tips it down his throat. He’s deep enough into his drinking now that he barely even notices the burn anymore. He also barely even notices that he’s sharing details about his job that he hasn’t told almost anyone in Kenos. What does it matter? What more appropriate place could there be to discuss his work than a den of sin like this one? Gen obviously doesn’t care, anyway.]

I never had the choice to do otherwise. My country isn’t like here; almost everyone living there is a normal human. Me? I’m unhirable. If it weren’t for my temple, I’d have died in Oppara’s gutters a long, long time ago. The work it had for me is the only thing I’m good for.

[The presence of judging teenage company doesn’t stop Liem from maintaining his gloomy, apathetic mood. He looks up from his drink in order to stare at Gen, vague frustration crumpling his porcelain brow.]

Why do you say things like that, like you’re implying I’m somehow better than you are? You’re young, and you know how to work hard and pull your weight. You’re not some kind of lost cause.

[ He'd been listening quietly without much action, keeping his gaze fixed on some indistinct point on the ceiling -- until Liem gets to that last bit.

Which promptly earns a laugh. A loud, raucous one, like Liem's told a real good joke. 'You're not some kind of lost cause,' is just so funny though, and Gen slaps the arm of his seat as he gives an uncouth, hyena-like cackle. Aaaah, shit, as if. (He was a lost cause from the beginning, but it all went beyond any hope of salvation the moment Yuko dragged him into that closet. There was no coming back from that.)

His little laughing fit doesn't last long, but it's just rowdy enough to earn the attention of the staff and some of the other patrons. Gen doesn't quiet down until one of the waiters drops by to passive-aggressively ask if he needs something; he waves them off with a cough as he lets his laughter peter off into a lower snicker. And when he realizes that a patron at the bar -- probably a vampire -- is looking his way with obvious interest (in his blood, probably), he gives her a sleazy smirk and a suggestive wink before snatching up his drink and slouching back into his seat. ]

This. [ He tips his glass at Liem before pounding half of it back in one go; he sighs as he takes a deep breath. ] I'm saying all this shit because you're like this. 'Cause you've been through all that nonsense that I don't even really understand, but you're still, like. Nosy. Saying that shit about me, building houses for other people, doing cooking classes. Being all proper and polite. You talk about this shit, but you still act normal, and stuffy, and boring, and adult.

[ So he says, but those last few words are rather lacking in his signature derision. Maybe being normal, and stuffy, and boring, and adult aren't entirely bad -- at least not for Liem. Gen throws back the rest of his drink before waving it towards the nearest waiter to request a refill; he keeps his gaze averted as he lounges back in his seat. ]

And you're here now, aren't you? You didn't start shit even back home, when people treated you like dirt and deserved to eat shit. You're really telling me, now that you're here where people won't even bat an eye at what you are, you're gonna get all pissy? S'real funny. [ Liem's better than that. Gen's sure of it. ] Sure, whatever. Get it outta your system for once, I guess. Don't worry -- I'm good at keeping secrets, I won't tell anyone.

[Liem doesn't see what about anything he's said should earn the kind of raucous amusement it does from Gen. He frowns at him, perplexed and a little annoyed, feeling like he might be the butt of a joke he hasn't been let in on. But if that's the case, Gen isn't sharing. The young man seems more interested in getting himself yet another drink than in explaining why the idea of himself having a future is so outrageously funny.

Liem still doesn't think it's funny at all.

But in his own way, Gen has been… not understanding, exactly. Not nice. But invested, at least. In the most obnoxious and tactless way possible, Liem feels like he is trying to take him at least somewhat seriously — to provide an ear and a bit of company for him while Liem tries to drink himself senseless.

He doesn't know quite how to feel about that, when it shouldn't be Gen's role to care for him at all. But it's far too late for him to pretend to have it together.]

I've had a lot of practice acting well-adjusted.

[He swirls the liquor in his glass around between sips, as though jostling it will make it taste any better. It doesn't, of course; nothing that comes in a glass could satisfy him as much as the thing that patrons of this particular bar crave most.]

Not that anyone here cares — you're right. The new world is meant to welcome everyone, after all.

[He drains the rest of his glass; tries not to think too much about the way the room has started to sway around him.]

So why shouldn't I be here, Gen?

[ Aaah, yeah. It doesn't feel right -- doesn't feel good -- to hear Liem saying that. 'The new world.' He'd already known it wouldn't, but actually hearing Liem say these things out loud just cements in his mind that this whole scenario feels fucked. It's hard to properly articulate any whys, though. Why it feels so bad, why it doesn't feel right. Why Liem shouldn't be here, whether 'here' means in this bar, or 'here' means with Zenith.

Gen gives an idle hum to himself as he considers the matter for a moment, looking up with the (long-suffering) waiter brings him his refill, then takes a slow sip. It's said quietly, almost thoughtfully when he does pull his glass away to answer, ]

Maybe 'cause you're nothing like the adults I'm used to. [ Slouching sideways into his seat, Gen rests his head against the back of his chair; a pointy ear flicks in thought once, twice. -- yeah, that's it. It feels correct, now that he's said it out loud. ] Hanging out in a place like this, being all pissy about shit that's already passed, and talking about the new world ... s'the type of shit that'd make sense from the kinda folks I grew up around. The people from my hometown. Buncha shitheads. [ But that includes himself, too. That wretched hometown he hates so much made him, too. And he's accepted what he is. ] You always felt different from that, though.

[ Maybe it's thanks to the calming buzz of alcohol starting to get to him, or maybe it's the exhaustion of the past few weeks catching up to him, but Gen's delivery is calm. Almost gentle. (Almost a little rueful.) ]

... I liked you better that way, y'know. It suited you more. Actually being well-adjusted instead of talking 'bout how you only act that way. Being the sorta adult I can't really understand.

[ His words trail off with a sigh.

And then Gen ruins the moment by glancing back towards the vampire sitting at the bar once more. ]

-- y'think she'll leave with me if I let her bite me? [ She's hot enough. He wouldn't mind giving up a few pints of blood for a good roll in the hay. ]

[Liem is deep enough into his evening now that when he drains his glass and puts it down, the weight of his intoxication pushes him forward until he's slumped with his elbows resting on the flower-strewn table, face cradled in his pale hands. He should stop drinking, he knows. If he manages not to make himself sick carrying on like this, he'll only wind up passed out on the table instead.

Problem is, that doesn't so bad to him. It might even be nice, to drink himself muddled until oblivion swallows him entirely. At least then he wouldn't have to think about anything else.]

… Are you calling me a shithead? [he mutters at the table, head still in his hands as though it's too heavy for him to lift. But he sounds more bemused than irritated.

It's strange, the way Gen ended up harmonized to Zenith as well, and yet he still seems to associate it with bad people — like a gutter that catches the ones who were too fucked up to keep on living normal lives in Springstar. Liem can't even disagree with that comparison when it comes to himself, but that's not why he succumbed in the end, and let himself be (forcibly) swayed to the side of dark. Like Hayame, Gen might have assumed that he ended up here because he'd given up, but the truth is actually the opposite. While he might have wanted to participate in something good, letting go of his home only ended up robbing him of the will to do anything at all.

It's the mention of the woman at the bar that gets Liem to raise his head again. He glances sharply up at Gen, scowling.]

You are not leaving with a vampire.

[Gen is still referring to "adults" like they're a separate species, but he wants to fuck a member of the eternally damned? Absolutely not.]

[ The only answer Liem gets to his question is a noncommittal half-shrug and a grunt -- teenspeak for 'kinda, yeah?'

Though Gen doesn't even necessarily mean it as an insult, more a statement of fact. Liem's acting more like the type of shithead he's used to dealing with, than he is acting like himself. And while maybe it makes sense that Liem's acting like this if he really is aligned with Zenith like himself -- a place where he can't imagine anyone he really respects ending up -- that still doesn't change the fact that it doesn't feel right.

He can't shake the sense that Liem doesn't really belong where he is now.

Case in point -- ]

What's the big deal? [ In contrast to Liem's sharp attention, Gen looks back to him languidly, eyebrow raised as he gestures with his glass. ] It's just blood, isn't it? I've got plenty of that, so what's the harm in giving some of it away, huh?

[ Aah, the belligerent confidence of a youth who very rarely falls sick and knows he has the bulk to make the loss of a pint or two of blood a breeze to handle. Gen throws back the rest of his beer in one go, flags their (by now quite weary) waiter for another refill, then cants his head to look at Liem. ]

'sides, don't you have to do it sometimes, too? [ A pointy ear flicks before he adds, lips curving in a shitty grin. ] -- oh, is that it? You don't want someone else gettin' to me before you can have a sip?

[ Haha. As if. He just wants to see Liem flustered by the insinuation. ]

[The scowl on Liem’s face stays steadfastly in place in the face of Gen’s languid indifference. What’s the big deal? He can’t tell if the teen is saying that because he’s still young enough to think that he couldn’t actually die, or worse, if he just doesn’t care if he might. Either way, Liem can’t be all right with that kind of laissez-faire attitude when it comes to fraternizing with monsters.]

You know that’s not it. I don’t… I don’t have to.

[If the suggestion makes him flush at all, it’s difficult to tell through the tinge of colour that intoxication has already painted over his skin. Hadn’t he already told Gen that he didn’t drink blood? That had been a bit of a lie, and it stopped being even remotely true some weeks ago at this point, but Gen just spent all this time telling him how he thought of Liem as a normal, boring, decent man. Decent men didn’t fix their sights on a teenage colleague and start plotting how to get their fangs into them.

Even though it’s far too late for Liem to pretend that he’s above that, that he wouldn’t indulge at least a little if given the chance.]

Vampires aren’t just people who drink blood. They’re monsters and killers.

[Liem’s urgent murmur is definitely not quite as soft as he’d meant for it to be, and earns at least one eye-roll from a nearby patron. Jesus Christ, it’s one of those types. Who let this guy in here?]

I don’t want you to get taken advantage of.

[ The answer to the unspoken question about Gen's blasé attitude is that it's a little bit of column A, a little bit of column B. Something that soon becomes just a little bit clearer when Gen blinks in the face of Liem's straight-laced, terribly earnest answer, pointy ears flicking back for a moment ... before he huffs disbelievingly.

And then laughs. ]

Taken advantage of? Me?! [ The only reason he doesn't laugh more loudly and obnoxiously is because he's starting to feel too lethargic for it. Even so, he snickers for a good few moments, gesturing dramatically to himself to better emphasize his point. ] You think someone's gonna be able to take advantage of this? Or even want to? [ One more chuckle that peters off into a sigh as he waves his hand dismissively. ] If anyone's that desperate and manages to get one over me, let'em have what they want.

[ Gen doesn't even have the excuse of being drunk for failing to keep his voice low, because he's never been the type to be that considerate in the first place. As such, he's drawn more than a few glances from the other patrons by this point -- something that Gen mostly doesn't notice due to inebriation, and also doesn't care about very much. Let'em stare.

His focus is solely on Liem at the moment. ]

-- anyway, you said you don't 'have to,' right. [ The waiter, unwilling to deal with Gen any more, had dropped off his drink without a word this time. Gen lazily picks it up, taking a long slurp before continuing. ] So you 'can,' huh. ... do you not want to?

[The sober look that Liem continues to aim Gen’s way says yes, he is concerned about him getting taken advantage of by some unscrupulous vampire. Maybe they wouldn’t go so far as draining him — he’s familiar enough with Yura to understand the consequences that could have — but that certainly doesn’t make the vampires here trustworthy enough to go home with. Gen doesn’t deserve to be used up and cast aside by some morally bankrupt parasite.

Any responsible establishment would have stopped bringing Liem drinks long before now, but the staff here are clearly beyond caring, and he barely needs to do more than glance the waiter’s way for them to bring him another glass along with Gen’s. He knocks some of it back as though the warm-blooded drink sitting across from him isn’t a hundred times more tempting than the one in his glass.]

Doesn’t matter what I want. I shouldn’t. Do you know what that means? That makes my failing when I drink regardless.

[Liem sighs heavily, leaning his head against one hand, looking haphazardly across the table at Gen.]

Do you truly not think it deviant? Perverted?

[ That sober look goes pretty much unacknowledged because Gen's much more occupied fixating on what Liem's saying. He sits up a fraction in his chair, a sharkish gleam lighting up his gaze as he grins. ]

Doesn't matter what you want -- so you do want it, yeah? [ It's followed by a wolfish cackle, the wordless equivalent of a 'gottem,' and Gen slouches deeper into his seat once more as he nurses his drink. It's a little quieter when he slurs into his glass, ] Doesn't even sound that deviant to me, honestly. But I'm a huge pervert, so what would I know.

[ He says that easily, like it's an off-hand joke, but there's a grain of truth in it. Maybe it's noticable in the brief backward cant of his ears, the way he averts his gaze, the deeper exhale he breathes afterward. (Because he is, though. He knows there are many things deeply wrong with him, including when it comes to his proclivities. It's real funny to think that Liem's asking him about this.)

-- he doesn't want to think about this, though. Gen throws back a big swig of his drink before changing tack. ]

Anyway. So what you're saying is that if you do it 'cause I asked for it, then it's fine, yeah? [ It's shitty of him, but it's not just morbid curiosity that has him pursuing this line of conversation. It's just as much a desire to see Liem give in and indulge for once that has him shooting Liem a crooked grin. ] You up for it? Or do you need me to ask all nicely for it?

[Liem can’t help but roll his eyes a little at Gen’s shitty laugh, like he tricked Liem into admitting that a young, reasonably healthy man’s blood would be tasty to a thirsty half-vampire. Yes: of course he wants it. Of course he thinks about it a little bit whenever he and Gen end up somewhere quiet, and he can hear the rhythmic pulse of it moving through his veins.

He’s just not in the habit of snacking on the people he knows, because he prefers to think of them as colleagues instead of as juice boxes.

Fortunately for both of them, Liem has no interest in what Gen actually means when he calls himself a pervert. That can just stay a mystery for Gen to know and Liem to never think about. But it remains at least a little bit comforting that the young man steadfastly refuses to actually care if Liem drinks blood or not — or even if Liem drinks his blood. Does Liem agree with him? No; he can’t. But it is kind of nice even so, to offer himself up for judgement and receive only teenage apathy instead.]

You’re offering me your blood?

[His eyebrows raise as he regards Gen over the rim of his glass, observing him with an intent, thoroughly-drunk stare.]

But I’m not even a pretty woman.

Yeah, no shit.

[ Said in that remarkably shitty way that makes it clear what Gen really means is, 'I fucking wish I was having this conversation with a pretty girl with big tits.' ]

But you'd throw a pissy little fit if I tried to go home with that one -- [ said as he jerks his head towards the bar, where the same beautiful young vampires from before is still lurking, gaze unsubtle fixed on Gen and no doubt just waiting for Liem to back off so she can get a convenient stupid juice box for the night ] -- wouldn't you? So I'm settling.

[ Nobody asked for him to settle???

Still, he's stumbled too far down this line of thought to back off now, and Gen idly picks at the high neck of the black turtleneck shirt he usually wears, peeling the side of it halfway down so he can slide his fingers along the side of his throat. You're supposed to be able to feel your pulse like this, right? -- oh, there it is. Hand pressed against that spot where he can feel the gentle throbbing in his veins, he looks back to Liem with that customary shitty smirk. ]

I keep telling you, it's not a big deal. And I'm curious now. Hollywood movies always make it look like it feels real good. Is that true?

[ As if Liem couldn't guess before from Gen's smoking habit -- he's weak to any promise of pleasure. And not just in the way that normal, hot-blooded young men are. For Gen, any prospect of feeling good enough to empty his head out of pesky thoughts is deeply enticing. And if the price to pay is a pint or two of blood, he'll gladly pay that to give it a go. ]

[Gen is right about one thing, at least. When Liem’s gaze slides back over to the pretty, sharp-fanged young lady sitting at the bar, the line of his mouth thins a little at the focus of her stare. Gen is just the sort of person a vampire would love to run into in a place like this: big and hearty, and more interested in a good time than in making wise decisions. Like hell is Liem going to just send him off with a wave while he goes off to get snacked on by some hungry vampiress.]

I’d be obligated to object, yes.

[Being the closest thing here to an actual responsible adult, despite being in the midst of a liquor-fuelled bender — which Liem seems to remain committed to, as he takes another sip from his umpteenth glass. Maybe it wouldn’t be a big deal to Gen if Liem took a little drink from him… but that doesn’t mean some strange vampire woman is automatically worthy of being trusted to get her fangs into him instead.]

It feels like being bitten. [Tipping his glass until he’s drained it, Liem sets it down with a click and pushes himself to his feet. If he sways a little as he straightens, that’s probably just because of the wobbliness of getting up from two seat cushions stacked on top of each other.] So it depends on if you like that.

[Which, again, he has no intention of asking Gen about. Why do lonely, depressed men keep asking him to drink their blood, though? This is the second time in half a year. Are Kenos’s shard-bearers okay?

(No. No they are not.)]

Do you still want me to do it?

[ Does he like being bitten? Drunk as he is, Gen actually takes a second to think that question over seriously. It's not like he's ever asked his girlfriend to bite him -- it's not his style to ask for anything when it comes to sex, he's the one who always has to be in control, et cetera, et cetera -- but he's never minded it when she did. Nails to the back, some hair-pulling, a few bites to the shoulder have always felt kind of nice in the aftermath, he supposes. So maybe he likes being bitten?

Also, he isn't discounting the possibility that Liem is just lying. He can't imagine Liem -- stuffy, uptight and boring as he is -- being able to honestly say 'yes, being bitten feels as orgasmically good as movies make it seem.'

The thought earns a lazy quirk of the lips, and Gen huffs a brief laugh to himself before finally, properly yanking down the side of his collar and canting his head to the side to bare his throat to Liem. ]

I ain't some coward about to back off at this point.

[ He can just imagine the way some other vampires in this joint must be staring jealously, and the thought earns a pleased, egotistical little stir in the pit of his stomach. After all, who doesn't like feeling desired? Maybe that's why he decides to be an extra little bit insufferable (not that he needs any encouragement to be insufferable).

His seat creaks beneath him as Gen lounges further in his seat, taking on the posture of someone just waiting to be ravished as he says, loudly and very cloyingly: ]

But be gentle, okay? [ His word choice is completely at odds with the awful, shit-eating grin he's wearing. ] You're gonna be my first time. [ Hehehe. ]

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