OOM - Fangtasia, late at night, "Jim" from IT

[onceaviking]

The door opens in a hallway.

The walls are painted dark red and the floor is painted black. That, however, is not the first thing you notice.
The first thing you notice is the music.
Really loud techno from the room at the end of the hallway is making everything vibrate.

The second thing you notice is the smell. Beer. Sweet drinks. Strong liquor.
Blood.

Sex.

Eric turns to Jim and points down the hallway, away from the door leading into the club.
"My office is down there," he says, his voice carrying just fine over the noise.

Comments

[just_cant_lose]

Jim has gone for the full understated-but-obviously-geek look; hair ungelled and hanging over his forehead, black-rimmed glasses, hipster stubble. He's got a light jacket on over a polo shirt buttoned up to the neck, and his designer jeans are perfectly clean but artfully scruffy.

Ugh, it stinks in here. He shifts the strap of his bag up his shoulder and glances around, taking in all there is to see in seconds. His body language shrieks 'nervous and trying not to show it', as if removing him from the familiarity of the bar has let some of the air out of him.

'Lead on, Macduff,' he says, in a voice designed to try and sound like he isn't bothered at all.

[onceaviking]

"Not a Shakespeare fan?" Eric asks as he starts walking the short distance down to the other end and the door there.

"It's not what it says in the play, you know. But we will go with your version." And he smiles to himself as his fingers move - too fast to see - across a keypad next to the door.

It clicks and he opens it.

It's - not an impressive office. It's small and cramped and messy, with stacks of papers everywhere and shelves full of, surprisingly, books lining the walls.

There's art there as well, engravings and paintings depicting desolate landscapes and ships mostly.

[just_cant_lose]

Lay on, Macduff,
And damn'd be him that first cries, 'Hold, enough!'

He runs the quote through his head, amused. It's a sentiment he's always had respect for.

'Isn't it? Haven't read it since school, sorry.'

He tries to catch the code, and is annoyed that he doesn't. And the office...awww Eric, you really miss home, don't you? Sweet.

'You run the place from here?'

[onceaviking]

"Partly," Eric replies. "From here and from the throne inside."

It's a completely non-ironic statement. You can tell.

"Just move the papers if they're in the way."
A pair smile.

" They're not importent."

In fact, they're meaningless clutter.

[just_cant_lose]

Clutter of any sort makes Jim itch, but 'Jim' is more easygoing. He simply nods, and sits at the desk.

'All right, I need ten minutes to set it up. Do you have to go and be seen anywhere? And I wouldn't mind a drink, if it's not too much trouble.'

Throne. Idiot.

[onceaviking]

The laptop is expensive. And, for lack of a better term, neutral?
The background is an image of waves, so dark as to appear almost black.

There are few shortcuts on the desktop, folders, a homepage (Anubis Airlines), bookkeeping software (password protected).

Eric looks at him, blankly.

"Don't go snooping, Jim," he says.
There are a few things he cares about in here, mostly his father's crown, half hidden on a shelf, but it has to be said.

He heads out of the door, down the corridor, through the door and heads for the throne.

The energy of the room goes noticeably up.

He leans back, steepling his hands, and says, "I need you to go back to the office and keep an eye on a guy."

He knows she is standing right there at his shoulder.

He also knows what the look on her face looks like.

"Bring him a beer, don't let him touch shit that isn't my computer, and don't eat him."

Then he looks up.
"I am serious, Pam. He's from Milliways. People might notice."

He turns his attention back to the dance floor.

"You can bring him here when he is done."

There is nothing idiotic about this throne.

[just_cant_lose]

Don't go snooping? He wouldn't dream of it, Eric. His arse is going to stay glued to this chair...

...and as soon as Eric leaves, he pulls out his phone and photographs the entire room. It only takes a minute, thirty seconds to encrypt the pictures through his app, and then he turns back to work.

Yadda yadda, network set-up, video uplink working, et cetera, easy, boring. There appears to be nothing unusual about arrangements here at all, so there's no problem. The signal strength glitches a couple of times which is a pain, but probably inevitable given they're way out of civilisation as far as he's concerned. God, if you were a vampire why would you live here?

He types numbers without looking, thinking it over and mentally mapping the room again in case it becomes useful. This is amateur stuff, and he's not even sure why he agreed to it beyond the promise of an evening in a different world. Hopefully there'll be some fun people to play with later.

[lazy_but_loyal]

Pam is standing right there at Eric's shoulder, even if she wasn't there a moment ago.

And her face is the embodiment of all the disdain in the world.

Especially when Eric says the guy is from Milliways. Seriously? A new guy? Why not Jay?

But Pam doesn't question him (only huffs an irritated sigh at having to babysit again), and goes to do as she's told. She stalks off the stage. She's wearing a leather mini-dress with laced-up cutouts. She stalks very well in it.

However, someone else barges into the office while Pam heads for the bar to pick up a beer.

"Oh, haaaay!"

Haaaay Jim, have a Ginger.



She's a rather scrawny blonde wearing...well. It's like...a pink bikini bra. But with a black, sheer lacy push-up bra over it. The straps are a bit worn so they're slipping over her bony shoulders. She's also wearing tiny denim jeans, and day glo yellow platform heels. There are crusty fang marks just above her collarbone. Her expression is manically cheerful.

"Sorry to bother you, mister, I'm just gonna get this here carton o' TruBlood, it's a good night out there, lots o' fangers and bangers, if ya know what I mean! You from 'round here? I don't recall ever seein' you before, but then again, I see a lotta people come an' go, but you've got a nice look about you, real smart an' all, which figures I guess 'cause you're on Eric's computer, are you fixin' it for him?"

[just_cant_lose]

...wait, did he just fall into a trailer park? Wow. But he grins anyway, because she looks like fun! Except the crusty fang marks because, ew.

'Hey, darlin', he replies, in an easy New Orleans drawl. He had considered staying English for about two seconds, but with this woman? No. Even she might remember a preppy Englishman hanging about.

So he nods, becomes languid through the shoulders, and adds, 'fixin' it, yeah. He don' like it runnin' slow. But I'd rather be out there with you, cher.'

[dobadthings]

She might remember, or she might not! Depends on which leftover brain cells are active at the moment.

"Oh, pffft, go onnnn," she crows with a smirk and a wave of her hand. Her accent has more of a Texas twang to it, Shreveport being closer to the border with it. "I'm workin' tonight, but you never know, stick around, cutie, I might get a little break later. Are you gonna be awful busy? Are ya hungry? I could pop into the kitchen an' make you a peanut butter n' butter sandwich if you like? Won't be no trouble at all."

A trailer park staple, perhaps.

[just_cant_lose]

Sounds delicious.

OH WAIT NO. It doesn't. But he swipes his tongue across his lower lip anyway, and pushes his glasses up his nose.

'That'd be wonderful, sweetheart. You got a name I can call you?'

[dobadthings]

She gasps and claps her hands with delight.

"Oh, wow! This is the first time anybody's ever said yes to my peanut butter n' butter sandwiches!"

She wonders why! She really does!

"Name's Ginger," she says, grinning ear to ear as she leans over the desk to offer him a hand. "What's yours?"

Oh, look, more crusty fang marks on the side of her neck and at the top of her boob where her bras slide down a bit.

[just_cant_lose]

Dear God, what has he let himself in for? But...peanut butter and butter, right? How bad can it be?

He shakes her hand like a gentleman might, and says, 'I'm Jim. Pleasure's all mine.'

He pretends not to notice the marks at her boob, because this persona is apparently not an overt skeeve, but he does tilt his head to indicate he's seen the ones at her neck.

'You got a little blood on you there, darlin'.'

[dobadthings]

It's gonna be such a special treat, Jim.

"Oh, don't worry 'bout that," she says, gesturing at her neck. "It's all healed up, I just didn't have time to wash off. It wasn't during business hours, though, biting ain't allowed on the premises, y'see. But y'know, rules get bent every so now'n then," she continues in a lowered voice, "'specially if a vampire is really hot or really hungry, we might look the other way." She giggles.

"I don't suppose you're a fangbanger. You sure don't look like one!"

[just_cant_lose]

He should hope not.

'Didn' realise Eric had that many rules.'

And not at all surprised to hear they're only loosely applied. He doesn't care. He is curious as to what this woman has taken; whether it's vampire blood that makes her this way, or something more conventional. Likely the former; he knows from Eric that vampires taste what's in the blood they eat.

'And no, I'm not. Not that Eric ain't offered. But maybe you wanna clean that off you, so no one thinks you didn' do somethin' you shouldn't've?'

[lazy_but_loyal]

"Yes, Ginger, why don't you get cleaned up?" comes a soft but stern voice.

Pam has suddenly appeared in the doorway.

Obviously to ruin Jim's fun.

Ginger whirls around, her eyes nearly bugging out of her head. "Oh! Oh, yeah, right, maybe I should!" she sputters, still managing to work some cheerfulness into it. "I was just talkin'--"

"Ginger."

"But y'see I just came in here--"

"Ginger."

"Okay, I'll go."

Ginger grabs the box of TruBlood bottles to take back to the bar and hurries out of the room, carefully making her way around Pam, who doesn't move from her spot.

Pam then looks at the man. Really looks at him, as a vampire looks at a human, inside and out.

"Hi," Pam drawls. "Jim."

She steps over to the desk and sets down an open bottle of Heineken.

She's pretty much heard everything.

[just_cant_lose]

Ooooh, a new one. Jim is, needless to say, entirely unfazed by the scrutiny. Given her attitude and the way she's bringing the drink he asked Eric for, chances are good she's been clued in to at least a few things.

'Hello,' he says, back to perfectly English. He looks her up and down, a few glances telling him all he cares to know. He pushes his glasses up his nose, takes a swig of his beer and turns back to the computer screen.

'Does this mean I'm not getting my sandwich?'

[lazy_but_loyal]

"Ha."

The syllable is so dry there's dust on it.

She ambles over to the side of the desk and stands there with her arms folded.

"I'm Pam. Eric told me to keep you company while you worked. Is this gonna take long? 'Cause I'm not very good company."

[just_cant_lose]

But he's curious about peanut butter and butter now! Even if it is just a ...peanut butter sandwich.

'He doesn't trust me? That hurts.'

The drone was ready while Ginger was in here, more or less. He only has some checks to do.

'Ten minutes, maybe.'

Pam might be interesting. You never know!

'Did he tell you where he and I met?'

[lazy_but_loyal]

"Vampires don't trust anybody."

That's just a fact.

"Milliways. I go there, too. I try not to. But my door is a bitch sometimes."

[just_cant_lose]

'Oh, you don't like it?'

That might be the first sensible thing he's ever heard about vampires.

'...you could sit down, you know. Hovering's rude, and I've no doubt you could rip my throat out from across the room just as well as standing over me.'

[lazy_but_loyal]

"I don't want to rip your throat out. I just want to see what you're doing."

She doesn't sound curious. In fact she sounds bored. But then again, she usually does, so you never can tell what she's taken an interest in.

And she really doesn't care if she's being rude. She brought him a fucking beer, she'll hover all she wants.

"Milliways is fine as an idea, but people are annoying and stupid wherever you go."

She shrugs a shoulder.

"I do get a nice meal once in a while."

[just_cant_lose]

'Willing participants everywhere, it seems.'

He sounds amused. He is amused, even as he types nonsense numbers to make himself look busy. He's liking Pam, so far.

'People are better than you think.'

Liiiiiies.

[lazy_but_loyal]

She just gives him the flattest look that ever flatted.

"No, they're not."

[just_cant_lose]

A grin spreads over his face, and he looks up at her. And shrugs, non-committal.

'I suspect you've been around long enough to have earned that opinion. How old are you?'