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I am sincere, even when I lie
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.
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.
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"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.
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"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.
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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?"
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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.
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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.
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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.
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"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."
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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.
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"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.
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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.
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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."
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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.
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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."
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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.
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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."
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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.
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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?"
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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."
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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.
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The story of what had opened Jon's eyes to the supernatural was one he had told to no-one.
The food is at least a benefit in that Jon can pretend to be very involved in operating the utensils as an excuse not to look at Jean-Claude, though he's keenly aware of being observed himself. "I, um, I started as a researcher at the institute after I graduated University and was promoted to Head Archivist roughly five years after that. That was two years ago and, ah... Well. I acquired my "habit" several months later. Occupational hazard working at the Institute."
Jon had his own suspicions about why he had been chosen as Head Archivist given how quickly the Eye had colonized him, but he didn't want to get into Institute politics. Jean-Claude could draw his own conclusions about the timing. It seemed to Jon that the more one knew about the Eye and its ilk, the more one was likely to get involved, as though the knowledge itself were a contamination. Jon's brow furrows. It hadn't been a problem so far, but if another avatar chose to drop in on him here...
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He himself hasn't offered his own story, after all.
"Ah, I see. You seem human to my senses," he notes, meaning his heart rate, blood pressure, body temperature. "I would have noticed nothing if it had not happened right in front of me. There is no polite way to ask, but do you still consider yourself human? I have no basis for comparison." Jean-Claude shrugs slightly, in admission of his ignorance.
He doesn't quite stare at him while talking, keeping his gaze relaxed and casual, the air he wants to cultivate here.
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"I'm certain you could have managed slightly more polite than that."
But it's not a question Jon can resist. He continues to scowl, but it's abstracted.
"No, not for awhile. At some point, I will be... more of what I am," He gestures to the food in front of him, "- For instance I can still eat 'like' a human, and I only have the standard number of eyes for a human - but I passed the midway point some time ago."
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"Non, there is no point saying these things too nicely. We are what we are. I was made a vampire during a time when I assumed it would damn my soul to hell for eternity. Many still believe that is true."
Jean-Claude doesn't say what he believes on that issue. Instead, with some ease returning to his voice, "I hoped it did not weigh on you so heavily."
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In truth Jon had avoided thinking too deeply on his humanity, once he knew it was gone. There hadn't been much point. The other avatars had made it abundantly clear there was no going back. None of them had wanted to.
Jon didn't know whether he was afraid of the day he would no longer want to be human, or afraid he had already passed that mark, too.
"Do you ever think it's... better, being a vampire?" The question might sound like it is hunting the information that Jean-Claude deliberately left out but the hesitant way Jon asks, voice quiet, gaze still averted, makes it clear that it is an indirect (and unintended) answer to Jean-Claude's implied question. Jon's never shy about asking other people personal questions.
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Less religious questions about the way monsters cope with having once been human ... Jon's overt demonstration of being willing to act on his behalf has won him a lot more honesty.
"Sometimes I think I have a different opinion every century," he answers with a smile that intentionally shows his fangs. They look almost delicate. "This is a good century, a good decade, even. As Master of the City, things are much better, for me and for all those I have authority over in St. Louis. I can ensure that. It was not the same under Nikolaos." By now, Jon has certainly heard the name of the last Master of St. Louis.
"If I am comparing to where and when I was born, it is no comparison. If you mean better to be a vampire now than to be a human - truthfully, I do not wonder such things anymore. If you do not like what you are, mon égaré, change your environment so you may act like what you are a little less. That is what I did. I have not had an unwilling donor in decades."
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