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

[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.

[end_recording]

"I've always had an interest in the supernatural," Jon says vaguely. It's easy to tell from the careful way he chooses the words that he's holding something back. Jon's an exceptionally poor liar; For all his prig stiffness he's hopelessly expressive.

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...

[sourdre]

It confirms Jean-Claude's suspicions that it was no coincidence for Jonathan to have a power that so perfectly suits his occupation, and he does find the timing suspicious. As intriguing as that is, he can tell when it's not a story currently up for grabs, and he has no problem playing the long game.

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.

[end_recording]

Jon's utensils clatter as he looks up at Jean-Claude, exasperated.

"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."

[sourdre]

By nature, Jean-Claude tends to speak with a seductive undertone to everything he says. When he isn't trying, it's merely a silky lilt to all of his sentences. It's suddenly obvious how persistent this tone is when it completely drops from his voice, replaced with a sober honesty Jon really hasn't seen before.

"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."

[end_recording]

Of course Jean-Claude had dealt with all this existential nonsense centuries ago. Jon is momentarily chastised into silence, his gaze averted. Feeling as if once again everyone had gotten a copy of the Rules for Supernatural Living except for him. Or perhaps his ineptitude at being a human was really a more general ineptitude at living.

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.

[sourdre]

Speaking on the nature and existence of his soul has a sensitivity behind it Jean-Claude doesn't want to discuss. It's been centuries since he was alive, but being born a medieval era French Catholic isn't something he can ever totally shed.

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."

[end_recording]

Jon's thoughtful through all this, gaze inward. If that's all it took, it would be easy enough: a life in the archives, feeding off old statements to dull the edge of his hunger until the Eye eroded the parts of Jon that still cared about hurting others.

That had been Jon's 'plan' ever since he came to grips with his new existence. But at the moment it felt like a long, endless stretch of grey.

"I see," Jon says quietly. "Sensible advice."

[sourdre]

Jean-Claude can't know what he's thinking, or that he'd misinterpreted his too-covert suggestion that he remain in St. Louis longer. If nothing else, he'd be the last person to suggest that the solution is to ignore his abilities as much as possible, and remain isolated. Watching him, he does recognize that his comment hasn't quite landed.

"Yet you do not seem satisfied with it," he notes, inviting explanation.

[end_recording]

Jon would never be so emotionally intelligent or self-aware enough as to realize he should suggest he should stay in St. Louis on purpose.

He sighs, frowning at his plate. "Evening if I stay in the archives for the next... however many years, eating nothing but old written statements, there is no way to predict the course of my - my transformation. Eventually, the parts of me that care about not harming others will just - be gone."

He rubs a hand over his face, a gesture Jean-Claude has seen many times before when Jon has wrestled with his thoughts. "I suspect so, anyway. There's hardly a manual, but that seems to be the way the other avatars have gone. I don't know what the Institute will do with me at that point; lock me in a basement somewhere until I starve, most likely. If they can do anything at all."

He ends on a sardonic note but a shudder passes through him. It's not an idle thought.

[sourdre]

Shaking his head, Jean-Claude replies, "That is a very human response to the situation - pretend shutting you in a box will solve the problem. If you were a young vampire I could not control directly, I would keep you well-fed," which he's been doing, notably, "and endeavor to find you sincere and permanent relationships with others that you care about.

"It is difficult to have control or to care about others when you are malnourished or starving. And the more powerful you are, the more difficult it is to care in the abstract, about those you don't know or care for. Those things have created many monsters, of every species. If even you do not know whether it is an inescapable part of your condition, it seems reasonable enough to try."

[end_recording]

By the time Jean-Claude finishes, Jon is staring at him in open-mouthed astonishment.

"Oh," he says eloquently, taken aback by how... purely sensible that sounds. He had seen first hand how the other avatars had fallen into obsession and pushed aside anyone in their life who would hold them back. Intellectually, Jon knew that his lack of close relationships put him at greater risk to losing himself - that was simply a fact, with the entities - but he had never conceived of getting some friends as so integral and logical a solution. Hearing Jean-Claude line as it if were a simple equation, however, was difficult to argue with.

His mind flashes to his own earlier thoughts, how much more comfortable he had felt these last few weeks, how much better his mood was. Compared to back in the archives where he was constantly snapping at everyone, going days without conversation. Jon told himself it was better to keep his distance.

"I-it's not that simple," he protests, more weakly than he might have. "I'm - I'm dangerous to be around. And... annoying. And unpleasant."

[sourdre]

He chuckles, a scintillating sound across the skin, and leans back in his chair. Jean-Claude folds his hands on his lap, long fingers laced together.

"For some, danger is an attraction. You are disagreeable, oui, but that does not make you unknowable. I agree it will not be all that simple, but it is much better than locking you in a basement and offering you scraps, and affecting surprise that this creates an amoral predator. What you describe is similar to how I would punish one of my vampires."

In vampires, the meaningful connections they make tend to be human servants, or lycanthropes that they can call, or other vampires of their line. Jean-Claude has been close to all of those, and still is to some. He will never be able to stop loving Asher, and it is beyond a miracle that he has returned to him. If he'd let himself become a monster in truth, he'd never have regained Asher's affections; he'd never have Anita in his life at all; and certainly, his wolves would not show him the sincere loyalty they do. Not to say that Jean-Claude doesn't do monstrous things on a regular basis, but they are all perfectly controlled, and deliberate.

For humans, getting some friends might well be good enough.

[end_recording]

Jon looks away. After all these weeks he has not gotten used to being affected by Jean-Claude's voice. The natural effect mingles with some interest of the Eye and plucks Jon like a string, leaving him vibrating restlessly. His hands coil around each other in his lap.

"You - you make it sound like I've already decided," Jon mutters.

Jean-Claude had eerie ability to read Jon's mind: Jon had accused him of concealing psychic abilities before. Perhaps it was simply life experience, having to navigate the social politics of the supernatural world for hundreds of years. And lack of it on Jon's part must be why Jean-Claude remained so damnably opaque to him. Some shades of experience were too subtle for even the Ceaseless Watcher's relentless gaze to delineate.

To all of the people in Jon's life, he had been just as opaque as Jean-Claude was to him. No-one knew the full story, save perhaps his god.

[sourdre]

"Forgive my presumption," he murmurs in a low tone, like sliding velvet. "I would not take any choices away from you. But I would like you to... know your options."

Much of it really is life experience, but partly, it's just that Jon reminds him in a certain way of himself when he was very young. Oh, Jean-Claude had been a wanton, reckless thing when he was alive, and the dual tragedies of his wife's death in labor with their stillborn child had plunged him headlong into seeking a different life. Immortality and power seemed as different as could possibly be, he'd naively thought at the time.

It was those years after his turning, where he'd been reduced to nothing more than an animal until Belle Morte took him in hand, that he is afraid would happen to Jonathan without his interference. Right now, Jonathan wonders how long he will remain as human as he is. Jean-Claude, as a new vampire, experienced so much degradation and violence he could not retain even the illusion of his humanity. What he has now, he has clawed his way to regaining.

And, more simply, he doesn't often find someone interesting that he can both afford to be compassionate toward, and might deserve that compassion.

[end_recording]

Jon's eyes drift to half-lidded, only briefly before he returns his gaze to Jean-Claude.

"If- if- if I did decide to, um, p, pursue that option," Jon's words trip over the unfamiliar terrain of trust. This could simply be the culmination of Jean-Claude's efforts to obtain a powerful tool. Jean-Claude himself might have set in motion the incident that provoked Jon's show of loyalty. These objections are loud enough to set Jon's heart pounding.

But in the end, Jon has very little to lose. Manipulated by the Insitute, manipulated by Jean-Claude - it amounted to the same thing, and at least Jean-Claude fed him better. And Jean-Claude had been so... Well. There was no point in getting attached to Jean-Claude's attention; he would very likely re-allocate it once Jon was secured.

Jon swallows, his strident voices comes out barely over a murmur. "... Would I be able to stay here?"

[sourdre]

He's not completely wrong; there's surely an element of that here. Jean-Claude's freedom to be his own authority within his territory is completely dependent on his capability in defending it. Collecting powerful individuals and creatures is a habit of his kind for a reason. But it takes more than just power, or being someone he can manipulate, for Jean-Claude to give his personal attention to someone.

Because his personal attention doesn't fade with time. It is a long game. Seduction and skillful sex are all about patience, and Jean-Claude is a master. For example: leading Jonathan to ask this himself, to lay it out there in the open as a participant, rather than a recipient.

"Of course," he replies, not too fast, not too eager. A shade of warmth to his tone. Jean-Claude can hear his heartbeat, and he is enough of a predator to find it enticing, a promise of something delicious. "Whether in this city or here in the Circus. You may have my protection if you follow my rules - the same as every other preternatural who reside in my territory."

[end_recording]

"I'll, um, need to see the full list to consider," Jon says stiffly, as unpracticed with gratitude as he is with trust. His pulse stays rabbit-fast but some of the tension goes out of him; His hands stop trying to strangle one another quite so fiercely.

"And - and we'll need to go over the risks of having me here," he manages a bit more firmly.