"Hardly. The god of love and beauty, reduced through the years through the gaze of the church. But make no mistake, he was very much an equal to Aphrodite."
"Why thank you~" he chuckles and slowly, slowly pulls out to come and curl against Ethan's side. He fits perfectly, never one taking his hand back.
This is so lovely. Touching and playing and basking in their lovely afterglow of fantastic, intimate sex.
He likes the immediate ease of their relationship. That they seem, on a fundamental level, extremely compatible. Oh darling he is going to spoil you. Rise you up on his shoulders.
There's still time before sunset which means a few more rounds may be possible. Francis can't keep his hands off. He's certainly going to try for it before reluctantly letting Ethan out of the bed for a shower and fresh clothes to then show him around the club.
Ethan will let him, absolutely. He just...he can't believe it. What are the
odds this actually worked out?
He won't spend time counting them, that's for sure. Just thanking his lucky
stars it's tied together so nicely. A normal person would probably be
suspicious, but man...Ethan is just gonna roll with it.
And he's excited to show Francis the club. It's certainly not a dive,
though it's hidden in plain sight and sort of looks like one from the
outside. Nox is well known in the vampire world, and humans who sign
waivers do trickle through the doors. He tries to keep it as legit as he
can.
It's quite charming, really. Francis on his arm as they go in and look around. He can feel how much effort Ethan puts into the whole operation.
The pleasant ambiance. The well stocked bar. The careful eye of security watching over the safety of their patrons.
He also knows he can elevate Nox to the next level simply by being attached. Tonight is not the night for looking through the books and paperwork but all in good time.
He'll introduce him to his favorite bartender, Cerai. He's not...sure what
she is, exactly - she's not human, she's not vampire, but she holds her own
against everyone in here.
"I've seen her throw a fully grown vampire out into the street," he's
saying quietly as they approach. "Don't piss her off, man."
She's tiny. Pixie like cut, pastel purple hair, bold eyeshadow, sparkling
blue eyes that stare into the soul.Five nothing, if that. Maybe 4'11', on a
good day. She sticks a hand out to meet Francis, chipper, but ultimately
suspect.
"Cerai," she says, shaking his hand before getting back to bar prep. "I've
heard all about this arranged thing." And she isn't convinced it was a good
idea for Ethan, because he is precious and sweet and she immediately
doesn't like you. It's nothing personal.
Yes well. He is at least attempting to endear himself to the at staff. Demon or otherwise.
Francis looks suitably impressed and nods a bit. They're sizing each other up, and that's fine. It is what it is. Who's this other dog. What are you. What do you want.
Really the only reason Francis can read her race is because he has two children born of the same.
Hm.
Mental note to tell Ethan he has kids later.
"I believe you. Sharp horns and claws," he laughs. It's good natured. His voice is warm.
"I will endeavour to stay on your good side. Though I also expect to occasionally be out to work."
"I'm an antiquarian. I own a book store with a restoration service. Though I am more than happy to roll up my sleeves here and help. I know this sort of place quite well."
"Ah yes, that must take you out of the circuit frequently. Playing with...your books."
"Cerai," Ethan starts, but she holds a hand up.
"We don't need a restorationist here. Or a bookseller, or someone to whisk our owner away and leave the place floundering, people getting murdered, that sort of thing. We need Ethan. Here. Working."
"We're also allowed a honeymoon," Francis raises an eyebrow. Wow.
"But tell me, at what point did I imply he wouldn't?" It's a little sharp as his temper flares but he then wonders if it's a test. Actually what the fuck he didn't even do anything. Why are you coming after him.
"And not that you need to know this information little demon, but half this match was arranged because of the club's need for me to get involved."
She snarls, and Ethan whips a look between them, because what, demon, who what--
"Listen," he tries, because he doesn't like confrontation, and he's worried, and he wants to smooth this all out with ice cream or something, what the fuck--
"Sure you get a honeymoon. But Marcus didn't know what the fuck he was doing half the time," she says matter of factly. "You may elevate our status, but we need him," she points to Ethan, "to stay present and focused."
"Cerai," she snaps. "Don't you hurt him. Don't you dare. Because I've seen and smelled your kind before, and I know what you do. I know how you treat your partners. You do that to him and I'll bring down all of hell on you."
Mm. Yes perhaps he shouldn't have. But he isn't sure Ethan even caught it, particularly. It could have very easily been.. weird.. name calling. Hm. Hm, hm, hm. They'll need a discussion in private later. And likely a Deal.
Francis wets his lips, trying to control his temper. You, little tramp, have terrible taste in men.
It also means she will know quite a lot of dirty laundry. Delightful.
"Then I'm sure you know to take his stories with a grain of salt."
He looks to Ethan, tracking a little slowly. This isn't. Fantastic for him.
Ethan is definitely listening. The fuck. A demon? He isn't stupid enough to miss what's going on. He's soft enough to want to smooth it, but he is definitely hearing it. He's no stranger (at this point) to otherworldly beings. A Demon is a first, though.
"Oh, he tends to be...uncommonly honest when it comes to his daddy issues." She leans on the counter, pushing two straigh whiskeys at them.
"Son," Ethan says, finally chiming back in. He's not thrilled about this pissing contest but is aware he's out of his league. How do you even interject. "Wow."
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Play those cards right, and it’ll be all yours. Ethan would be happy to be pampered. He’d let you take care of him forever.
“Wasn’t he the little fat one with arrows?”
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"Hardly. The god of love and beauty, reduced through the years through the gaze of the church. But make no mistake, he was very much an equal to Aphrodite."
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He grins, reaching to catch one of those hands to kiss.
“You’d know, because you were probably there.”
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"And I'll say that I look rather elegant in a chiton."
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“That like a toga?”
Don’t mind him pressing messy kisses to his wrist. You smell so fucking good.
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He just doesn't want to pull out just yet.
"It is. But shorter. Shows off the legs~"
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You smell delicious. Thankfully he isn’t hungry.
“And yours are very nice.” Shifting a little under him so he can grope at his thigh.
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This is so lovely. Touching and playing and basking in their lovely afterglow of fantastic, intimate sex.
He likes the immediate ease of their relationship. That they seem, on a fundamental level, extremely compatible. Oh darling he is going to spoil you. Rise you up on his shoulders.
There's still time before sunset which means a few more rounds may be possible. Francis can't keep his hands off. He's certainly going to try for it before reluctantly letting Ethan out of the bed for a shower and fresh clothes to then show him around the club.
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Ethan will let him, absolutely. He just...he can't believe it. What are the odds this actually worked out?
He won't spend time counting them, that's for sure. Just thanking his lucky stars it's tied together so nicely. A normal person would probably be suspicious, but man...Ethan is just gonna roll with it.
And he's excited to show Francis the club. It's certainly not a dive, though it's hidden in plain sight and sort of looks like one from the outside. Nox is well known in the vampire world, and humans who sign waivers do trickle through the doors. He tries to keep it as legit as he can.
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The pleasant ambiance. The well stocked bar. The careful eye of security watching over the safety of their patrons.
He also knows he can elevate Nox to the next level simply by being attached. Tonight is not the night for looking through the books and paperwork but all in good time.
Captivate him, Mr. Crowne.
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He'll introduce him to his favorite bartender, Cerai. He's not...sure what she is, exactly - she's not human, she's not vampire, but she holds her own against everyone in here.
"I've seen her throw a fully grown vampire out into the street," he's saying quietly as they approach. "Don't piss her off, man."
She's tiny. Pixie like cut, pastel purple hair, bold eyeshadow, sparkling blue eyes that stare into the soul.Five nothing, if that. Maybe 4'11', on a good day. She sticks a hand out to meet Francis, chipper, but ultimately suspect.
"Cerai," she says, shaking his hand before getting back to bar prep. "I've heard all about this arranged thing." And she isn't convinced it was a good idea for Ethan, because he is precious and sweet and she immediately doesn't like you. It's nothing personal.
Ethan coughs. Jesus...be nice, please.
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"Francis," as he shakes her little doll hand and evaluates her energy.
"Yes a most unusual situation these days but I think we've got quite lucky in the match," he says and glances warmly at Ethan before looking back.
"This is a very tight ship you're running. Nox seems very lucky to have you."
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"Hm." She gives him a once over, clearly assessing him, and Ethan looks terribly embarrassed.
"Nox is lucky," Ethan says, and Cerai folds her arms, leaning against the counter as she watches the two of them with a sharp eye.
"No one gets away with any bullshit," she says. "Between me and the bouncers."
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Francis looks suitably impressed and nods a bit. They're sizing each other up, and that's fine. It is what it is. Who's this other dog. What are you. What do you want.
Really the only reason Francis can read her race is because he has two children born of the same.
Hm.
Mental note to tell Ethan he has kids later.
"I believe you. Sharp horns and claws," he laughs. It's good natured. His voice is warm.
"I will endeavour to stay on your good side. Though I also expect to occasionally be out to work."
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So...many kids.
Her eyes barrow a little, eyes flicking between the two of them.
“Out to work, hm? What do you do?”
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"Cerai," Ethan starts, but she holds a hand up.
"We don't need a restorationist here. Or a bookseller, or someone to whisk our owner away and leave the place floundering, people getting murdered, that sort of thing. We need Ethan. Here. Working."
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"But tell me, at what point did I imply he wouldn't?" It's a little sharp as his temper flares but he then wonders if it's a test. Actually what the fuck he didn't even do anything. Why are you coming after him.
"And not that you need to know this information little demon, but half this match was arranged because of the club's need for me to get involved."
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"Listen," he tries, because he doesn't like confrontation, and he's worried, and he wants to smooth this all out with ice cream or something, what the fuck--
"Sure you get a honeymoon. But Marcus didn't know what the fuck he was doing half the time," she says matter of factly. "You may elevate our status, but we need him," she points to Ethan, "to stay present and focused."
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Francis smiles, half genuine, half he can not believe your sheer fucking audacity.
"Well, good," agreeing with her.
"I'm glad we're all on the same page, then. I look forward to working with you Cersea."
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She pauses.
"Abaddon included."
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Funny after all this time it's still possible to blindside him.
Francis stares for a moment, wordless. Breathless. How dare you.
How dare you.
Say something, you old fool. She can't take the ground in this conversation. Don't give it to her.
"Well I say," finally. Recovering. He takes off his glasses to clean them with a handkerchief from his pocket.
"And how, exactly, do you know him?"
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She is very tempted to tell Ethan precisely what you are. What you've done. The children you've sired. All those lives you've lived.
"Oh, he's been in and out." She smiles, moving to get them drinks. She finally has this ass by the balls. "We've dated off and on for a millenia."
Ethan is wondering if he should even be ere -- should he go fuck off, like. What is happening.
"Who's Abaddon," he finally interjects.
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Francis wets his lips, trying to control his temper. You, little tramp, have terrible taste in men.
It also means she will know quite a lot of dirty laundry. Delightful.
"Then I'm sure you know to take his stories with a grain of salt."
He looks to Ethan, tracking a little slowly. This isn't. Fantastic for him.
"My son."
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"Oh, he tends to be...uncommonly honest when it comes to his daddy issues." She leans on the counter, pushing two straigh whiskeys at them.
"Son," Ethan says, finally chiming back in. He's not thrilled about this pissing contest but is aware he's out of his league. How do you even interject. "Wow."
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