animatedsmoke | I hope you like blood

I hope you like blood

Who: Slayer, Potemkin
What: Even vampires have occasions to break out the good stuff. Or in this case some dude's neck.
When: Post GG:XX
Where: Villa Vampir

It was somewhere between an official order and a casual request, the idea of a visit to Gabriel's only rival being dropped during one training session. Potemkin would brave travel into the netherworld, on the word of his master, who he had complete faith to only instruct him in the ways best for his mind, spirit and body. With that faith carried with him, he was prepared for anything and felt fear for nothing.

It had completely slipped his mind that a tea party could be one of the ways to train his skills against adversity.

He's not dressed for it to say the least. Had he known he probably would have at least tried to put on a shirt. But his demeanor at the table is spotless, having taken off the metal gauntlets to leave all weapons at the door and sitting straight in his seat, shoulders apart.

He waits, knowing not to speak before the host.

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Needless to say, Slayer's rather glad that Gabriel's taught his soldiers some level of etiquette. The shirtless part he can forgive as the Guild's current leader has similar wardrobe styling. After he puts the final checks on all the tableware, he comes out to address his guest.

And the large man looks so strangely elegant sitting in the much smaller chair. It brings a warm smile to the vampire's face.

"Welcome to my home. I do hope the tea and accompanying treats are to your liking."

Before Slayer can say anything else, Potemkin's being served with a tea cup and plates.

Slayer is a gentleman through and through, and Potemkin will return the respect that he gives him. When the saucer and cup are laid on the table, Potemkin picks up the cup by the handle, despite his fingers dwarfing the delicate arm of the teacup, and carries it to his mouth. Apparently he forgoes sugar and milk with his tea.

"Thank you. It's been a while since I've last set foot here," he says before taking a sip. "If I had remembered your hospitality, I would have realized the visit was overdue."

"Both you and Gabriel are always welcome here. Whether it be for talks or for a few cups of tea." Slayer pours himself a cup. Now and then he fancies himself some human delicacies because they're just so tasty. Of course they're not nearly as tasty as humans themselves.

"I consulted a few of the Guild's tea enthusiasts and had them put together a blend just for you. How do you like it?" He notes the lack of sugar and milk, so he hopes it's to the soldier's liking.

It's so characteristic of you to go the extra mile over something like this. Those are Potemkin's thoughts as he looks over the rim of the teacup, but he chooses to take a sip instead of having them said. Better to avoid suggesting what he could be spending that effort on, in what's supposed to be a more cordial meeting. And if Slayer has intentions of not keeping the atmosphere that way for long (after all, Slayer knows the reasons why Gabriel sends him here), then Potemkin knows to appreciate living in the moment.

Potemkin closes his eyes in deliberation before delivering his judgement. "Give your men my thanks, this is splendid."

"Excellent!" That brings a smile to the old vampire's face. "I will tell them their blend was a success. But please, don't let me interfere with your snack." It's an interesting choice of words as Slayer steps back.

He takes a small truffle in hand, consuming it whole. "There is nothing quite like the succulence of good chocolate." Well, there is one thing, but Slayer's biding his time on that.

Potemkin looks up at those words, but doesn't comment as he's still drinking. This really is very tasty.

But to stay within etiquette, one must exercise restraint, and so Potemkin returns the cup to its saucer before emptying it as it would be very easy for him to do. "Very few people on earth will argue with you on that," he says, as he takes a few dainty pieces to his plate. They are placed there for later, since Potemkin decides now is the time to pursue the bigger matter.

"Is there anything that's been on your mind recently?"

That question makes Slayer raise an eyebrow. So soon...

"A few things. Mostly the state of the Guild and the well being of my friends. They really should learn how to loosen up and live once in a while." He shrugs before moving closer to his guest. Like they'd really take advice on life from a damn vampire.

"Unless you meant other things." There's that tone. It's oddly sultry but testing at the same time.

"Humans interest you again, for you to pay attention to such things." That's...good? Bad? Potemkin can't really say. Slayer will be Slayer regardless of where he conducts his business.

"I mean what I say," Potemkin says, not doing a full shrug, but it can be heard in his voice. "I have no idea." Unless he's simply to have his manners reaffirmed, which is a little underwhelming but not unpleasant.

"I've never fully lost interest in humans. They are such endlessly fascinating creatures." His eyes light up when he says that. He truly enjoys watching them grow and develop, and on occasion their taste.

Speaking of tastes...

Slayer grins and leans more towards Potemkin, eyeing a certain spot on his neck. He licks his lips, but says nothing.

"I'd imagine we really are, from your perspective."

It's hard NOT to look at his neck when it's the lead in to his bare shoulders, which look almost broader than the table he's sitting at. There's just something about that look however, and when Potemkin stops focusing on his drink as much and gets hit with an eyeful of that, he's slightly unsettled.

"Sir?"

"You have no idea, my good man."

Slayer's well inside Potemkin's personal bubble, all while that wide smile somehow gets wider. He adjusts that monocle, still analyzing the large man's neck.

But then he pretends to snap out of it and clear his throat. "My apologies. My manners seem to be non-existent today. Allow me to pour you more tea."

How are you supposed to question that which you're not sure existed to begin with? Potemkin returns to normal to match his host, but the soldier is too perpetually on-guard to brush it off entirely, keeping the feeling in the back of his mind.

More tea is a good answer either way.

"Thank you, sir." Potemkin returns the cup to its saucer and scoots it slightly down the table, away from his obstructive to teapot-holding-arms body.

Oh, Potemkin is so polite and delicate. It's too adorable for words. The image of him pushing that cup down... Slayer's quietly taken by Gabriel's soldier.

He pours the larger man another cup and some for himself. It offers almost no nourishment but like all human food Slayer enjoys the flavor. But he continues to bide his time on the meal sitting before him.

"If you wish, I can have the blend packed up so you can take it back with Zepp with you. I'm sure Gabriel would love to try it, as well."

"That would be very generous of you," he says, despite having doubts if Gabriel is tea drinker. He's his assistant, not his butler, he can't say he knows how the man eats breakfast even if he loves him.

Though the offer causes him to wonder if his teacher ever attended parties like this, or if his youthful rivalry was too intense to meet on terms that didn't involve fistcuffs. Either one or both must have mellowed out since then, or Potemkin simply gives off a more harmless aura than whatever bite his commander once possessed. Potemkin doesn't know what to make of any that.

Slayer and Gabriel go farther back than anyone can imagine, and somehow they've managed to keep their friendship/rivalry/whatever under wraps. He could easily spill all the juicy details to the devoted soldier, but he respects both of them too much to do it.

"My pleasure." He sips his own tea in the most languid fashion possible, still keeping an eye that spot on Potemkin's neck.

At the second cup it's about time to dig into the snacks. Potemkin picks one of the chocolate truffles he left on his plate earlier. He gives it a full taste treatment, taking a tiny bite that requires him to move his head forward to meet the candy with closed eyes, which means juuust missing one of Slayer's peculiar looks yet again.

"You make good assessments of your own food, sir."

"There is no need for the 'sir', my good man. Slayer will suffice." And no, he won't accept "Lord Slayer", either. Not from anyone outside of the Guild.

The vampire's attention turns from that neck to how Potemkin savors the truffle. The soldier has better etiquette than most of the assassins. They could learn a thing or two from Gabriel's troops. "Let's just say I've had a few years of experience. And those are handmade from a nearby shop."

"Noted." Potemkin was only being cautious on how to address the man considered the equal of his actual technical superior.

A matter of years seems like only a tiny amount of time for the immortal, but it hits him. "It must be a learned skill, then, since it's less natural for you to eat cooked food than..."

Slayer chuckles at that. "Very much so, Potemkin. While I enjoy a good Bordeaux with the paired cheese and chocolates, I still prefer the richness of something else."

Now he's getting hungry. That glint in his eye's looking mighty ominous.

Suddenly Potemkin brings his cup to his mouth. There might not be any tea left in there, but he sure does take a big gulp either way. For a flash, the words 'excuse me, but I must take my leave' go through his head, but he holds it back in time.

"Of course, you don't do that any more, not since having the company of Sharon," he restates what they both already know. Or so he hopes.

That glint doesn't go away this time as Slayer adjusts his tie. He loves Sharon dearly, but every now and then, he desires something a little different. To add a little variety, if you will.

He's been around for a very long time, after all.

"Is that so?"

He doesn't give Potemkin any time to react. Within seconds, he's but a few centimeters away from the soldier's neck, ready to take his first bite. Those fangs brush against skin, teasingly sinking down but not piercing. Not yet.

The cup stays exactly where it was, covering the bottom half of Potemkin's face (and, mercifully, his expression). It's just one part of Potemkin that's shock still, as the entirety of him is frozen in the nature that prey instinctively defers to in presence of predator.

It's possible it's this instinct that could terrorize Potemkin into giving up. Or more logically, it's acknowledgement that if Slayer can move that fast, any attempt to escape is pointless.

Despite his age, Slayer can move in the blink of an eye, easily sizing up his prey and devouring within seconds. But he doesn't wish to hurt Potemkin. Not like that. He only wishes to have a little taste.

"I've always admired Gabriel's men. So brave in the face of what some consider pure terror."

With that, the teeth sink in.

Potemkin stays still like a tree. If these are his final moments, then he puts up no resistance. For what awareness he has, he would choose to stay dignified to the end than mar his honor with last second panic.

But, as if there's a wind blowing, the kind that courses in the night and can move the thinnest branches, Potemkin is shivering.

That little shiver amuses Slayer greatly. He has no intention of killing Potemkin. No, that would be wasting a perfectly good soldier. Besides, he can't bring himself to upset Gabriel like that.

The large soldier's blood tickles the vampire's tongue, and it's far richer than the old man expected. He's going to hold himself in place for a little while and savor this moment.

It's an idea that's utterly ridiculous to Potemkin, that Slayer would be enjoying this. Instead he formulates a dozen different ideas on why he's taking this so slowly, and this is slow: Potemkin knows that if he was intended to be drained, he would already be dead.

So either it's because he feeds more efficiently from this, he needs his awareness for something, or maybe this is just what vampires like doing when a foolish soldier walks into their trap.

Still barely moving, a word manages to creak out of Potemkin, low like the moaning of bending metal.

"Why..."

That word does make Slayer draw back, summoning a couple of servants to properly treat the large soldier. He's had his fill for the time being.

"I've lived for a very long time. Every now and then I desire something a little different. Yours has a richness that's rarely found in this day and age, one that is full-bodied yet delicate on the tongue." As he straightens his suit, he carefully watches Potemkin's wounds being blotted and patched up.

"My apologies for being so sudden. I should have been more courteous."

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I hope you like blood

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