OOM - Hot Shot

[onceaviking]

He woke up alone.

The house was empty and quiet. He turned on the TV as he got changed, but paid little attention.

First things first. He'd go check in on Lafayette, discreetly, and then he'd set about planning his trip to Jackson. He couldn't quite decide how to go about it, but he likely wouldn't be able to sneak in. Which meant having to deal with Mississippi. Mississippi in this case being the King, Russel Edgington, who was both old fashioned and a lunatic. Or so rumors had it. But if he intended to kill weres - and he did - figuring out whether the local regent would be a problem would be the place to start.

He also wanted to check in on Sookie. She'd felt - sad. And then not sad at all, which had better not be because of the dog minding her. Alcide Herveaux might have to be brought to heel, if he did not understand even relatively simple instructions.

He left the house, and moved up and into the night.

Following Lafayette was easy.
Even if his destination was puzzling.
If you were unfortunate enough to live in the shit hole called Bon Temps (oh, the irony), why in the hell would you chose to drive to Hot Springs, an even smaller, dirtier, and more depressing shit hole? Infested with were panthers too, but humans wouldn't know that.

---

As he moves through the air, he does his best to let go of his anger. At least till he I'll be able to do something about it.
He needs to regain his cool.

He shouldn't have snapped at Pam. On the other hand, sometimes she forgets her place. It's his own fault, he indulges her far too often. Then again -

- and then his thoughts are interrupted as he spots Lafayette.
And the inbreed herd of men in overalls surrounding him.

Comments

[a_little_cocoa]

Lafayette hated Hot Shot, but it's got a good number of V dealers and users. Unfortunately they're all rednecks, so let's just say that his brand of fabulousness doesn't translate well among them.

Still, there he is, in a cluttered workshop, trying to convince a dude to buy his supply, but dude ain't feeling his sales pitch. He even goes so far as to ask if Lafayette is a cop.

"Nothing this hot will cost you this little and earn you so much," Lafayette insists, holding up a tube of the opaque, red substance.

But he only wants to eat his sandwich (seriously, who eats in their garage?).

"We're not gettin' in business with people like you," the guy says.

...Now, why he gotta go there for.

"People like me?" Lafayette says, hackles rising, eyes narrowing. "Look--"

"No, you look, son," the man snaps, pointing at him. "Polite's in short supply around here. It's time you get your ass home."

He's about to give the guy a piece of his mind and then some when a commotion outside gets his attention.

Oh, hell naw.

He gathers up his (unsold) supply of V and rushes out of the garage toward his brand new car -- which has been set upon by several rednecks looking to scrap it. One of them is even in the passenger seat, defiling the pristine leather with his dirty-ass jeans.

"Hey! Get the fuck up out my ride!"

The man gets out and gets in his face. "How about no?"

"How 'bout I whup your fuckin' ass?" Lafayette shoots back, giving him a push.

"Faggot!"

The guy shoves him hard, and he stumbles backwards, into the grip of one of the other rednecks. They surround him like a pack of laughing, braying animals. Struggling, Lafayette is held fast as a knee is driven into his stomach, and he crumples.

The man who he tried to sell the V to comes up behind him.

"I told you we ain't so polite around here," he snarls, and grabs Lafayette's arm, holding him up, readying him for another blow.

[onceaviking]

So they're figurative overalls.
That doesn't really improve matters.

Everything in this little, depressing dump smell of poverty, poor hygiene, and bad genes.

Still, he has to protect his investment.
He'll just have to wash up after.

There's a blur - and one of the men, the oldest, holding Lafayette finds himself a few feet away. In the air. In a vice-like chokehold, his feet dangling in the air.

"Take your hands off me, dead man," he sneers. But there is terror in his eyes.

It's good to see that they haven't managed to breed everything resembling common sense out of themselves. Or it would be. If he cared.

"Take the deal," Eric says, managing to sound both calm, reasonable, and bored.

A part if him is rather hoping that this little mangy shit will fight back. Even if he hasn't got time for this shit.

[a_little_cocoa]

And then suddenly Lafayette isn't being restrained anymore and holy shit what just happened--

Some of the men start to slowly back away, some stand around gawping stupidly.

Lafayette for one is staring wide-eyed in stunned bewilderment. This is the last thing he ever expected to happen. Like, it wasn't even in the realm of imagined possibilities.

Eric is TCB, yo. (And looking good while doing it.)

[onceaviking]

He smells.

"You will have to kill me first," the mangy thing sneers. As if that is supposed to impress him.

Luckily, he knows how pack animals think. "No," he says, calmly. " I think I'll kill all your brother-cousins first. How does that sound, Lafayette?"

It's certainly easy to tell how said brother-cousins are feeling about the suggestion.

[a_little_cocoa]

Lafayette blinks, his gaze shifting from Eric to the dude he's holding up by the throat (his eyes are starting to bulge out of his skull from the pressure) and back to Eric.

Say something. Say something.

"Uh, that-- that sounds good."

Well, it does.

[onceaviking]

"Excellent," Eric says with a small smile, letting his fangs drop.

The old man - Cadwyn, Cadval, Crayton, something - takes the hint.
He manages to get out a ,"We'll sell. Just let me fucking go." But it is groaning, impotent rage.

Eric does as the man asks. Since he is asking so nicely. He does move his arm a bit first, making sure that the were's head hits the hood of the car with a sickening thud.
He'll live.
Probably.

"And that," he says, " is called closing the deal."
It's directed at Lafayette. As is his parting, " Let's go, RuPoul."

He has no trouble turning his back on the flock of misfits here. They wouldn't dare.

[a_little_cocoa]

There's a collective wince when the guy's head hits the hood of the car.

(Lafayette might be a tiny bit concerned about a dent. A quick glance confirms the man's skull wasn't hard enough. Cool.)

As Eric ambles nonchalantly around the car to the passenger side, Lafayette eyes him with a cautious amount of admiration and gratitude. Maybe it's not so bad to have a vampire at your back. Even if you're just a financial investment. Hey, that's something.

He glances around at the remaining gawkers.

"Get the fuck up outta here," he growls at them, and they scatter like cockroaches.

Crackers ain't so tough now, huh? Aw yeah. Don't mess with Lala or else the vampire be all up in your shit like bam, muhfuckahs.

He can't help the microscopic grin of glee as he heads for the driver's side and climbs in. And he's pretty sure Eric can smell his adrenaline and excitement as he drives off the dirt road and onto the highway back toward some form of civilization.

[onceaviking]

Oh, he can smell it alright.

He sits staring out of the window, his long fingers drumming briefly on the leather clad armrest.
If only all his problems were as easily solved as this.

They drive a while in silence. Then Eric says, "Well, I have to say I'm a little disappointed, Lafayette. I pegged you as a professional, but clearly, you lack the necessary artistry."

Disappointed, despite having rather enjoyed making the inbreds piss themselves.

[a_little_cocoa]

Still riding high, Lafayette is unfazed by the criticism. Even from Eric. Because they tight now.

"Bossman, have you seen this face? It ain't nothin' but art," he preens with a flourish of his hand.

[onceaviking]

Eric shakes his head a little.
"You expect them to adapt to you," he says. "That's not salesmanship. It's ego."

But wherever he is going with this little impromptu Sales 101 talk, he is interrupted by his phone.

He fishes it out of his pocket. "What?"
He knows it's Pam. Maybe that is why he sounds so curt.

He feels bad for snapping at her last night.

[lazy_but_loyal]

Pam doesn't even notice Eric's abrupt tone.

Her own voice is urgent and tense, low-pitched as if she's trying not to be overheard:

"We're being raided."

[onceaviking]

"So?" he says before continuing in Swedish. "Then call the American Vampire League and get them to sic their lawyers on them. I'm busy.".

He can feel her.

[lazy_but_loyal]

Upstairs in the main bar, Pam can hear harsh voices and quick, heavy footsteps while furniture is being overturned, shelves swept clean.

"It's not the police..." Pam says, also shifting to Swedish.

She anxiously glances up the concrete stairs, knowing at any moment they're going to move down to the dungeon.

"...The Magister."

[onceaviking]

"I'm coming over now," he says, feeling cold all of a sudden.

The Magister.

Raiding Fangtasia.

With Pam there. Alone.

[lazy_but_loyal]

No, she can't let Eric walk into this. If there's a way to get her out of this, he'll find it, but once the Magister gets his claws into him now there's no telling what he'll do.

"Don't be stupid. Leave while you still can."

The footsteps and voices are getting closer.

"They're looking for the V, Eric. The Queen set you up--"

The line goes silent.

[onceaviking]

He sits there, frozen, the silent phone in his hand.

Save yourself.
Even now, that is her first thought.

He knows the Magister won't settle for Pam. He'd clearly been suspicious of both Eric himself and the Queen and knowing the vampire in question, there is now way he will be satisfied before they both have been publicly humiliated at the very least.

He should run. He knows he can hide. Throw them off. Lie low for half a century or so.

He can't.

They have Pam.

None of these thoughts show on his face. But his eyes -

They have Pam.

[a_little_cocoa]

Lafayette waits politely, eyes on the road, until it's obvious that Eric's conversation is done. He picks up nothing out of the ordinary about his demeanor. It was probably some staff member at Fangtasia complaining about something.

So he continues their chat from where they'd left off.

"I know I ain't got no fangs," he says, "and I know I can't talk whatever language that is you talk in, but I can move your shit."

[onceaviking]

But Eric is gone before Lafayette can finish his sentence.

Gone.

[a_little_cocoa]

Lafayette hears the window roll down and with a gust of air the passenger seat is suddenly empty.





He does a double-take.

What.

"Aw, hell," he mutters to himself, leaning forward to peer out the windshield at the night sky.

But Eric is long, long gone.

"How'm I s'posed to deal with this fucked-up-ness."

He leans back and sighs, shaking his head, and continues driving.

Vampires, man. Vampires.