I am sincere, even when I lie

[sourdre]

Jean-Claude found the whole request terribly amusing. And more than a little gratifying to his ego, less so to have his power acknowledged and more in terms of how representative it is of his success in ingratiating himself to the human world. Vampires have not been legal ten years yet, and already Jean-Claude is considered approachable enough, dangerous yet safe enough, to receive requests like these.

There was a considerable amount of work behind that, and more than being a Master of the City or even a sourdre de sang, it is not something another vampire could do, or has done.

So it puts him in a good enough mood to accept. He has many questions of his own, but he prefers to ask them in person and on his own territory. Although he knows phones and computers, Jean-Claude has never gotten comfortable with them, as they remain a peculiarly human insistence. Important vampire functions are always carried out in person, no matter the distance to travel. The time involved feels immaterial when you are immortal until killed.

Of course, he puts on a show for his visitor, awaiting him in an old-fashioned receiving room beneath the Circus of the Damned. The Circus itself might've been an experience just to walk through on the way down - there are a couple truly singular acts, such as the world's last living lamia, a fierce and inhuman woman with the lower body of a snake. On entering the restricted area, the Circus's dark gothic decor meant for tourists gives way to a more sincere and lavish set of living quarters. Bronze sconces and both fine and modern art line the stone walls, far enough underground to be devoid of windows, and tufted area rugs scatter between clean white and black furniture. Staff and residents mill about, casting the visitor curious and sometimes covetous looks, but leave him alone given his escort, who he sheds at the door to the receiving room.

Jean-Claude himself is arranged on a wing-backed armchair, an over-the-top vision in lace and leather, as always, one leg slung over the other. He has an empty wine glass in his hand as a prop, and water and wine set out on a coffee table between the chairs and couches.

"Monsieur Sims, welcome," he says in his smooth, tactile voice, without standing. "Have a seat. Help yourself. It is a pleasure to receive such a distinguished guest so unattached from my normal circles." He smiles a politician's smile, polite and sincere while giving away nothing of substance.

Comments

[sourdre]

It's tough to be more than 500 years old and not end up a little condescending sometimes. He appreciates greatly that Jon has chosen not to be difficult with answering his questions, basic as they are.

Jean-Claude makes a noise of understanding low in his throat. He assumes his profession lining up well with this is not a coincidence, and is more willing to disclose information for personal need than for an archive. "Thus your interest in nighthags. It is very rare, and I think not the same. Those with that ability constantly instill fear in all those around them, though perhaps those I know have never wished not to." He shrugs. "If I did not maintain control, I would compel sexual acts in every room I walked through. By your surprise, I take it you are usually less affected?"

[end_recording]

"Yes." Jon presses a hand to his face, as is trying to hold his trembling body still. He does gain some control back over his voice, though every word seems pried out, reluctant. "I don't know if it's simply the, the... volume of stories in this place o-or, er, something about you in particular."

[sourdre]

So it is more the stories than the emotion itself, perhaps? Or maybe they are both necessary components. It seems a damnably inconvenient hunger to have, to Jean-Claude, though if he is accustomed to better control over it and a job that lets him see it fed, perhaps it is not so bad.

He laces his fingers together placidly over his stomach, at ease. "Perhaps both. I have spent hundreds of years with the Council, mon ami, the oldest, most vicious and most powerful vampires there are. You will not have heard these stories before - there are no humans that survive them to speak, and I am the first of my kind to welcome public attention.

"If you want stories of fear and pain, that you have not heard before - " Jean-Claude chuckles, a vibrant sound with a resonance behind it. "Those sworn to me here have even more, that they would not say without my approval. I would not be surprised if you could sense it. Like a rare vintage."

It's a comfortable, familiar position for him, to more or less bargain with the currency they have. Jean-Claude isn't cavalier about offering anything, and indeed he hasn't made any offers beyond his own so far, but one does open a negotiation by persuading the other you have something they want. And it seems Jonathan is like any other vampire, in that what he most craves might be novelty.

[end_recording]

"It's not that simple," Jon snaps, confusion now making him more irritated than afraid. Is this Jean-Claude trying to collect him after all? Seduce him, so to speak, with an endless buffet? And if Jon refuses the nice offer... Perhaps Jon would see first hand what his voice could do. His laugh alone thrums against Jon's spine as if it were a plucked chord.

"Wh, when I take a statement directly from a subject, I. Feel it. And so do they. All of it, all over again. It's not pleasant." For the subject. For Jon, it is an all-too fleeting respite from hunger and pain and uncertainty.

[sourdre]

Alas that Jean-Claude could afford to be public about his disdain for Nikolaos. He is a businessman and the Circus is very profitable, and he doesn't mind it per se as a business itself, but with few exceptions the current state of affairs is something he inherited from Nikolaos. It is taking time to shift it into something more palatable, and in the meantime he is stuck with this façade.

He listens with evident interest. "Yet you still do so? I presume there are some kind of dire consequences should you not."

[end_recording]

Jon rubs his hand over his face, then drops it back to the chair. He makes no move to sit down again, still too keyed up to be comfortable sitting.

"Not very often. I usually get by on written statements. They're..." Jon sighs, resigning himself to another food analogy. "Not as filling. But they don't harm the subject."

[sourdre]

"I see," he answers thoughtfully. He can't help but think he's fortunate in at least this respect with the ardeur. Jean-Claude never lacks for willing subjects, and at this stage in his life, he has the immense privilege of being able to be choosey.

"Is there not some benefit to them after all? Do they find it cathartic to relive the scene, perhaps?"

At least in vampires, their abilities tend to include some payoff for the victim, as a survival mechanism to lure in prey. There are a few exceptions, of course, but Jean-Claude doesn't expect them to ever be willing to live in harmony with humanity the way he does. That would be cruel to impose on someone who seems human to his senses.

[end_recording]

"It varies." Jon replies curtly. His fidgeting takes a different air as he looks around the room, restless. He's unused to having to explain all this to a stranger, and, frankly, unused to being asked at all. The other avatars do not like to compare notes and most of his coworkers simply thought he was a bit weird about statements.

"Look - " And Jon does look at Jean-Claude in the face, completely forgetting caution. "I, I apologize. Really. A-and it won't happen again." Jon doesn't sound confident so he hurries past it. "I should, um, go have a few statements and we can meet again tomorrow." His tone lifts slightly at the end, more of a hopeful question.

[sourdre]

It varies because it varies, or because he doesn't know how it works? Difficult to tell.

Jean-Claude thinks better of him for the apology, although he notes the lack of confidence there. "If that is what you wish, I have no objections," he replies smoothly. "But, I must confess, you intrigue me. I believe I have one who could offer you a much better meal, mon sauvage, if you do not mind some supervision. It would be a good exercise, non?"

[end_recording]

Jon suspects that intriguing a vampire as old and dangerous as Jean-Claude is not particularly good for one's health. Yet the scowl that Jean-Claude's epithet brings out soon gives way to a conflicted frown, even as Jon thinks stupid, stupid stupid. How many of his scars had come from offers just like that? Come, Archivist, don't you want to know?

But he did want to know. Always, no matter the cost. The Eye hadn't done that to him, merely co-opted it for its own purposes.

"... Fine," Jon sounds resigned. He doesn't really like the idea of being watched while he's... feeding but he could hardly argue for privacy.

[sourdre]

Jean-Claude isn't about to offer up himself cavalierly. He didn't become a Master so he wouldn't use his privileges. And, besides, he is not free enough with his emotions to be a good meal, he thinks, while he has someone who he keeps explicitly because he is. He thinks he will serve in this capacity as well.

Jason has always been so good-natured about being thrown under the bus, as the Americans would put it. But Jean-Claude does insist on supervision for his sake, more than for his own curiosity. He throws Jason into things - but he never abandons him there.

"I must see if he consents, but I think he will," Jean-Claude declares, standing up finally. He's taller than he seems sitting down, over six feet. "Wait here, s'il vous plaît. And - as bold as you are, I feel I should remind you it is quite flirtatious to meet a vampire's eyes. You are lucky I am so good at resisting temptation."

He sounds amused as he says it, pausing to observe his reaction before leaving.

[end_recording]

There's an instinctive flinch as Jean-Claude moves, with Jon simultaneously gripping the back of the chair harder and taking a step back.

Jon's dark skin doesn't show a flush very easily, but it's obvious from his expression that Jean-Claude's remark landed exactly how he wanted. Jon swallows and looks away, muttering. "R, right. Th, thank you for your... restraint." He can't help but sound a little sarcastic about it; Jon was well-aware of what he looked like.

[sourdre]

As much as he's a more publicly palatable kind of vampire, it's still gratifying to have Jon show a trace of fear, and moreso to show sarcasm through it, pushing to show his independence.

"It would be quite rude, would it not," he murmurs. "Since you have not invited me." His tone makes it clear that is an open suggestion, but he doesn't wait for the reply before sweeping silently out of the room to fetch Jason.

Jean-Claude is not like Belle Morte, who wants to surround herself with only the most beautiful people and pets and things, as if something less than stunning will mar her own beauty. Vain as he is, there are still some days he is tired by how much he is reduced to his looks. It is a tool, and he uses it well, and he does enjoy the aesthetics... but suffice to say, he is not so shallow anymore.

Like any other old vampire, he does value novelty. And he does like to collect powerful people, of any species. But Jean-Claude is, above all, a seducer. He wants them to stay of their own volition, because they get something out of it. It is a nice luxury when he can do that.

He finds Jason in his own bed, perfectly naked. Jean-Claude sits beside him and strokes a hand down his bare side to wake him, who yawns and slowly opens his eyes with a muzzy, Again, Master? Only Jason calls him Master in that cheeky tone.

"Non, I have something else I wish to ask of you... which you may refuse."

[end_recording]

Jon is left frowning over that as if Jean-Claude had tossed him a puzzle. Well, if Jean-Claude was willing to demonstrate his powers, then good. Great. Jon would need to see them first-hand regardless.

Jon considers having a smoke while he waits, but he hadn't asked if Jean-Claude minded and he doesn't want to push his luck. He should walk out now, while Jean-Claude is away, but Jon wearily shoves that thought aside as soon as he has it. Instead, Jon slowly unbends his fingers from the chair so he can make his way to the tape recorder and rewind it back to the start. Best if no part of that conversation is left lying around.

[sourdre]

It's perhaps ten minutes before the door opens again, Jean-Claude followed by Jason, who pads after him on bare feet. Jason is an almost unfairly attractive blond man in his mid-twenties, dressed in skintight light-wash jeans and a too-thin blue t-shirt. His only other decoration is the very obvious set of bite marks across his neck. Beside Jean-Claude, there's something alive and almost wild about him, a werewolf not trying to hide his nature, though at the moment he's fairly subdued. Reluctant, but not unwilling.

"Jason, this is Jonathan Sims, the archivist come to visit us. Monsieur Sims, this is Jason, my pomme de sang. He has consented to telling you a particular story that I think you will enjoy." After a moment, he adds, "You may compel him or not as you wish, so long as you are not cruel."

There's a somewhat awkward beat before Jason says with a smile, "Nice to meet you. Don't be too rough, it's my first time."

He's not entirely his normal gregarious self, but this isn't enough to quash his reflex for innuendo. Jason is an irreverent shit, but he's also a submissive and fairly low in the pack if not for Jean-Claude's guardianship. This isn't his first time being offered up as food, and frankly this is one of the least objectionable things he's ever been asked to do. He even gets Jean-Claude here as a safeguard, who's a possessive bastard of his things even if he doesn't seem it. It's one of Jason's favorite qualities about him.

So... alright. He'll relive it in a safe environment, for Jean-Claude.

[end_recording]

By the time they get back, Jon has at least forced himself to sit again. Jean-Claude may be gratified to see that Jon doesn't seem to notice Jason's looks, either. Nor does he notice the innuendo. The look he gives Jason is abstracted, comparing the savor of Jason's history to Jean-Claude's.

It's rather like comparing a carrot to a five course meal.

Jon clears his throat lightly. "Right... the, the compulsion itself is not unpleasant. It should simply help you, er, articulate." He takes a deep breath, and turns the recorder on. "Please state your name for the record..." and once that's done, Jon pitches his voice, so soft it's merely a murmur.

"Tell me."

Jason will feel the compulsion as a warm tingle down his spine, and the sudden removal of all his reservations. It seems like a lovely idea to tell Jon all about this incident, like it will make him feel better.

Jon is much more sedate throughout this statement. Unmoving, unblinking while Jason speaks. And the statement itself will be comprehensive, detailed, and well-ordered, regardless of Jason's natural story-telling abilities, regardless if there was anything he wanted to hold back.

And when it's over... The reason the catharsis of making a statement varies is for the simple, mundane reason that people are different. Whether Jason truly will feel unburdened after it all is purely based on his own disposition.

[sourdre]

It isn't so bad in comparison, and it does have the advantage of being much more easily accessible than Jean-Claude's personal stories. Jason is a good storyteller to begin with, without much reservation or masking of emotion, and he'd had multiple encounters with rotting vampires. After the first, he'd developed a phobia, which makes his recounting especially harrowing. Even speaking about them provokes a sincere throat-clenching fear and increased heart rate.

The stories themselves are somewhat revealing, too. Rotting vampires can intentionally induce decomposition in their own flesh, and Jason had in all cases been chosen specifically for his fear as a form of psychological torture, with the vampires holding him down as they dripped putrid flesh and sloughed skin. His descriptions are grotesque and even plain gross - and the reasons he gives for having to endure it is always some form of vampire politics.

He does, actually, feel better at the end. Jason barely talks about these incidents, and he's an outgoing person: having it out in the air does help him. He comes out of something like a trance blinking, and feeling wrung out but oddly lighter. Completely different from how he does when Jean-Claude feeds on him, either blood or sex - that's a heavy sensation, deliciously sedating.

"Hey, not bad," he says with honest surprise. "I thought this was going to be a lot worse. Not that it's my idea of a good time - " He rummages up a saucy wink at Jon, purely on reflex, and executes it decently well despite his mental state. "But almost like a month of therapy compressed into half an hour."

Jean-Claude reaches out to run an appreciative hand down Jason's bare arm, which earns him a grin and unashamed direct eye contact. "I am glad to hear it, mon loup. You are as delightfully adventurous as always."

[end_recording]

Conversely Jon does have the dazed look of someone having just finished a heavy meal. The satiety Jon feels after a live statement is fleeting but potent, and that had indeed been a particularly full statement, richer than he had taken in a long while. And novel; if he were more clear-headed his mind would be buzzing over new information. But for now the urge to lie down and bask in the buoyant, contented fullness is strong.

So he takes a long, belated moment to respond. "Um, g, good," He murmurs, tentative. It's always an adjective he is leery of applying in these situations, but verbal nuance is beyond him at the moment.

He does rouse himself to look at Jason when he speaks again. "... Thank you," He manages with more composure. His eyes flick to Jean-Claude, a subtle inclusion - once again forgetting not to look him in the eyes - and then jerk down as he retrieves the tape recorder to fuss with.

[sourdre]

Both Jean-Claude and Jason know what it looks like when someone is a little fuzzy-headed with satiety, given that they see it on a regular basis. As unenthusiastic as he'd been - and he didn't enjoy reliving that - Jason is still pretty satisfied to see the effect he'd had. He takes pride as a pomme de sang for both blood and sex, and if he's going to add another method to the list of ways he's food, he wants to be as good at this one as he is the other two.

Jason gets to his feet with a leisurely stretch, half stripper and half werewolf with the unconscious physicality of it. He's visibly pleased with himself. "You're welcome. Looks like my job here is done. Do you need anything else from me, Master?" he asks playfully.

Normally, Jean-Claude insists all of his people just use his name. It's a mark of their closeness that Jason gets to irreverently tweak him with Master on a regular basis.

"Non, you are released. Thank you for your indulgence." Jean-Claude lets sincere affection slip into his voice; Jonathan has proven himself and his normal self-control enough with this encounter that he now feels comfortable showing at least some genuine emotion in front of him.

Since Jean-Claude is playing politician at the moment, Jason doesn't initiate physical contact or say anything else before leaving, just gives a wave as he slips out the door. Jean-Claude turns back to Jon, every inch a gracious host. "Would you like a moment of rest, or to reconvene tomorrow? You are welcome to stay here below the Circus if you need accommodations."

[end_recording]

Jon once again fails to notice the attractive werewolf making a spectacle of himself. He's watching Jean-Claude instead, brow furrowed in thought. How long would Jean-Claude play the gracious host before his invitations started becoming more insistent, and then stopped being invitations at all?

He needed to think.

"I've, er, taken enough of your time today." As he stands, he fidgets with strap of his bag, adjusting some invisible imperfection in how it hangs. "Um, I'm available at... whatever hour is convenient, for our next meeting." Jon barely slept at all these days which was at least occasionally convenient.

[sourdre]

It's a good survival trait, that paranoia. Jean-Claude would never gainsay it, and he's not at all about to be offended. He wasn't expecting to be taken up on his offer, but he does like to make it clear where his own boundaries are, and in this case he has no issue sharing his abode. It's a standing invitiation, in his mind.

Needless to say, however, he does much prefer the slow and well-earned trust of the suspicious than the easily-won enchantment of most of the living. If he doesn't have to work for it, what is it really worth?

Jean-Claude stands as he does to lead him to the door. "I rise fairly early in the evening, but some time after sunset is always preferable."

This begins a trend over several weeks. Jean-Claude continues offering up the stories of his vampires and wolves, and perhaps a rare curious wereleopard or wererat, all of them fairly low on the totem pole and of varying quality and intensity. On occasion, he will give his own pseudo-statement, an obvious tease meant to test Jon's control and their own slow uncertain trust. Jean-Claude is a wealth of supernatural information, but he's difficult to compel and reserves his own emotions so well he slips into appearing corpse-like on a regular basis. It ends up making his storytelling largely factual and rarely personal, and however congenial he is, he evades real confession.

There's a notable warming of his regard when he hears of a particular incident in which Jonathan reacted ruthlessly on his behalf. If looking into his eyes is flirtatious, that is practically a pick-up line to a master vampire.

He invites Jonathan to a private dinner once he hears of it, in a room that is visibly more personal than the receiving quarters he's seen so far. The fine art in this area starts to feature portraiture of people in period clothing, and someone observant would quickly realize Jean-Claude himself of centuries past is in some of them here and there. There is food set out that Jean-Claude can only look wistfully at, and he's polite enough to have eaten beforehand, lending a subtle flush to his skin.

Jean-Claude declares when he arrives that business, as he puts it, is forbidden for the evening, and tries to entice his guest into relaxing enough to be a little more personal. "Come, mon égaré, you have been a model and honorable guest. I am rarely so flattered by a visitor's conduct. You must allow me to express my appreciation with dinner, though I am sadly unable to join you in tasting it."

[end_recording]

And without really noticing or thinking about it at all, Jon becomes comfortable. Since nothing comes of it, he entirely forgets not to look Jean-Claude in the face. He strides rather than skulks through the circus. Though he hears the titters about Jean-Claude's mangy new pet, it seems the entire supernatural world Jon comes into contact with fears Jean-Claude too much to offend him by harming his guest.

It feels nice, for once, to be under the protection of a powerful being who actually does protect him. Jon feels - sometimes, almost - safe.

The nickname provokes a familiar scowl. Jon looks the same as always this evening, the conservative librarian: collared shirt, sweater, everything neat and clean and smelling only faintly of cigarette smoke. Jean-Claude has never seen him so much as roll his sleeves up despite the heat. He enters the room and settles himself with the same sense of wary tension that always organizes his movement, noting the portraits with a glance. Though he was notably casual with Jean-Claude, never biting his tongue on sarcasm or irritation, he was only ever really relaxed when he was taking a statement.

"So you're just going to watch me?" There is a short pause as it occurs to Jon that Jean-Claude has been watching him eat for weeks now. He sighs, and amends himself: "I would think you'd be bored with me eating dinner without the usual show."

Really, he's not sure what to say about Jean-Claude's effusiveness for what he had done. Jon had reacted purely out of frustration and instinct. And perhaps he did feel a little defensive of this... situation, Jean-Claude's hospitality. Once could say a lot about Jean-Claude doings but he was far less destructive than most other supernatural creatures.

Or perhaps Jon was just besotted from being fed so richly and so often. Even if Jon was well-aware Jean-Claude was simply using the statements of others to distract from his own.

[sourdre]

Certainly, it's partly distraction... but Jean-Claude always has at least three motives for everything. In this case, the simplest motive is that he likes him, and he is a demonstrative creature. The next motive is that Jean-Claude seduces like he once would have breathed - instinctively. The tease is practically a reflex. And of course, he is fascinated by power.

Given how vampire culture at his age is more or less constant showmanship and face-saving, Jean-Claude can't help but value every blunt, unsocialized human who doesn't think him a soulless devil. He's always appreciated their company - it's not mere happenstance that he's the first Master of the City to deliberately integrate into society - and now, as Master, he finally has the freedom to do what he wants. He still has to look over his shoulder about the Council in larger matters, but day to day, Jean-Claude doesn't have to answer to anyone's authority anymore.

He does get acts of rebellion, and regular flares of viciousness in the preternatural community of St. Louis. His power's well consolidated but requires constant tending to remain that way. Being far more used to outsiders coming in to undermine him, he's not about to overlook one of the very rare exceptions.

"Not at all," he assures him. "It is a lovely show, but I have had little chance to speak with you outside of your work. I would like to become better acquainted. A chat over dinner is customary, yes?"

[end_recording]

"I wouldn't know," Jon says dryly, missing the compliment entirely. Normally he'd leave it at that but Jean-Claude was asking, and it only seemed fair - Jon may not have gotten exactly what he wanted out of Jean-Claude, but the man had given him a lot. "I've never kept up much of a social life, particularly not since I graduated."

Since Jean-Claude wasn't eating, Jon supposes he can go ahead and start. Between the smoking and the arcane influence of his unfathomable god his sense of taste and smell weren't much these days, but he could still appreciate a warm meal.

It feels just as awkward to be eating and conscious in front of Jean-Claude as Jon suspected. Jon swallows the urge to distract the conversation to ask about the paintings. "Er, but if there's anything you want to know you can, ah, certainly ask."

[sourdre]

Jean-Claude actually has an empty plate and full silverware set out, both out of court manners and in an attempt to make eating alone less awkward. He socializes with lycanthropes pretty extensively and is used to this issue, though it doesn't bother him in the least.

This is far more cooperative than he'd been expecting - and he's not about to miss an invitation.

"It does not surprise me you would be so dedicated to your work instead of socializing. How did you become an archivist?" Observing him, he tilts his head slightly, dark hair slipping forward over his shoulder. "And did it predate your... other habits? They seem intertwined." It is in fact a topic he's greatly interested in, but it's also, intentionally so, an easy question to avoid answering too personally.