OOM - Beware of Swedes bearing gifts

Eric is slowly loosing his patience.
He's been parked here for several minutes now and someone still hasn't made an appearance.

It will rather ruin the effect if he has to actually walk up to that sad little shed and drag Lafayette out of it. So he honks again and tries to will the man to actually react.
He's got to be home. The light is on.
And it's not the only thing that has been lit up, judging from the smell.

He sighs.

And then finally something stirs.

He turns a little in the seat, running his hand across the leather upholstery.
Then he raises his hand and gives Lafayette a small, almost coy,three-fingered wave.

OOM - Lost in a Dream - Fangtasia, closing time

The Carmilla hotel is discreetly lit, beautiful and white in the hot night.
He descends gently, coming to rest in the empty air outside of a large window. Her window.

He can see her. Dressed in white, her hair held away from her face with a headband. It makes her look like a little girl playing dress up. Lost in thought.

Sookie looks up and exclaims, "Cheese and rice!" as she sees him. But for all her surprise, she still gets off of the bed and goes to the window.
"You scared me half to death. What the hell are you doing out there?"

"Waiting for you to invite me in", he replies calmly. Ankles crossed, hands folded. Resting in the middle of empty darkness.

"Can all vampires fly?" she asks. Suitably impressed.
It always works, flying. It taps into some primal desire in humans.

"Can all humans sing?" he counters and when she replies, "Are you kidding? Couldn't carry a tune in a bucket with a lid on it," he finds himself smiling.

She's cute.

And then she says it. "Come on in."
No hesitation. Not anymore.

He swings through the window and walks past her, asking, "So, uhm, how goes the search?"
Casually. As if he doesn't really care but is merely being polite.

And there are now two things at stake here. The wolves and their master. And her.

"Turns out, he's not who I was looking for, " she stays and steps closer, tilting her head back, not like she merely has to do so to look up at him, but the way women do when they offer up their lips to you.

He looks down at her. Mesmerized.
"You smell like the ocean in winter," she says, softly. "How is that possible? Bill doesn't smell like anything."

"That's not possible," he murmurs in reply, transfixed by her lips and her eyes and the words she is saying.

"You played by the North Sea as a child," she continues, so, so quietly and he finds himself whispering, "Yes.
How did you know?"
How can she? How could anyone?
"I'm smelling your memories," she murmurs and he is, strangely, almost frightened. Because it is a memory. The sun on his back, the sand between his feet. The salt in the air.
Laughing.

"Not even you can do that," he whispers. Wide eyed. Unable to look away.

"Oh," she says, "I got skills you can't even dream of, cowboy."

And then she steps close and -

Oh, it is gloriously. Even her lips taste of honey and sunshine as he kisses her, hungrily. And she meets him with an equal hunger, as if she too has wanted it since they first saw each other. Since she was just a girl in a white dress.

And if the kissing is amazing, then the push that lands him on the bed and the way she removes her robe, revealing her lingerie, the way she moves toward him, confidently, makes him ache with need.

She mounts him and asks, "You want more?"
And somehow, it doesn't really - fit.

He can feel his brow knit and then she repeats the question. Only it isn't her voice. It's Yvetta's.

"You want more? Or I boring you? "

Yvetta. Draped on the pole in fishnets and little else. And he is on the his throne in Fangtasia. Alone.
He can feel Yvetta's pout beginning to form, as if he somehow owes her attention.

"That'll be all," he says, waving her off. Dismissively.

Unsettled. No matter how foolish it is to be unsettled by a, well, dream.

He gets up, abruptly, and heads for his office. Pam can deal with closing up.