[Now, he's doing his best to be defiant and strong, even as the haze of smoke grows stronger about him and Gepard gets more and more tired, realizing a little too late that it was the smoke, he shouldn't have bothered hitting the guy with a bottle, he should've tried to get away and drag the stranger with him. Idiot. Idiot.
Gepard tries to snarl, and it sounds...sleepy, but still with anger, an implicit threat: he will fucking bash in this guy's head, but then a few things happen in order.
The guy says but a guy's gotta eat.
Gepard's eyes widen in horror/surprise/shock/fear/confusion? A confusing cocktail of feelings, and he's ready to express them, but- remember the smoke? Yeah. Gepard opens his mouth and a loud yawn escapes, and he blushes without thinking about it, a flush, because nothing cuts the tension of whatever is about to happen quite like interrupting it with a yawn.
It's just a vulnerable moment, there and gone again. (He will never live this down, even to himself.)]
Eat? [It's a quiet rasp, because it's just so hard to keep his eyes open and he's slumping all the more, and the only thing that's keeping him awake, to some extent, is stubbornness. Gepard walks the path of Preservation not so much because he's a builder, as he is someone who has the instinct to protect and the instinct to stubbornly cling to whatever-it-is until he's forced away from it.
That said.] Eat? [A quiet, more confused, more horrified, more...something repetition, slightly louder.]
[That's the dirty secret, Gepard, you've figured it out-- the reason why there's some guy prowling the streets, knocking people out. It's not to rob them, it's not for thrills, it's out of mundane, base necessity. The inexorable need for sustenance. Because Sampo's got the galaxy's worst dietary restrictions and the only way to get it is to go out and hunt the most dangerous game.]
[And you're on the menu for tonight.]
[The gas has been working its magic, and Sampo takes more of the Captain's weight as it affects him. It's less of a pin now and more of a hold, shifting Gepard's body weight into a more comfortable position for feeding. Moving to support his head, keeping it steady. The horror-confusion-shock in his voice is... not unexpected, but a little uncomfortable for the fact that Sampo knows that from the other side of things, this is a horror movie. It's a nightmare, finding yourself unexpectedly in the clutches of a monster.]
I'm not gonna hurt you. [It's half a reassurance for Gepard, half for himself. He's not going to hurt him. Not really, not any more than Gepard would have been hurt by going to a blood donation.]
[His mouth opens; his teeth scrape over the thin skin of Gepard's throat, too sharp for any human. When he bites down, it's a smooth, practiced motion, designed to pierce into skin and tissue cleanly. A clean bite bleeds clean and heals clean, it's the best for both himself and his victim--]
[Hot blood flows over his tongue.]
[Sampo gags, then recoils.]
Ugh! [This man tastes awful. He's never tasted someone who has such unpalatable blood before, it's like trying to choke down battery acid. The expression on his face would probably be comical if it weren't for the whole, you know, vampiric monster nightmare scenario thing.] What-- how?
[Now, there had been a way that he thought things would go. A great deal of horror, definitely. He's in the clutches of a monster. Gepard hadn't expected the clutches to be warm or-
Sniff.
-the monster to smell kind of nice? Or maybe that's just the smoke disorienting him. The world seems to slow. The man says that he won't hurt him, and Gepard grumbles back because on one hand, he's a liar; on the other hand, they hadn't found any dead bodies, so is he a liar? Is he?
He doesn't know.
There's a scrape of lips and teeth over his throat. It's almost tender. It's enough to make Gepard flush (a betraying blush on his cheeks) because this is- this is the most confusing experience he's had, because it's horrifying as he's overpowered and helpless and the monster's being so tender, but also, the monster is being so tender. No one is this tender with him. Not even his sisters.
The monster bites down- Gepard makes a noise as his hand clenches at the monster's shirt, and-
And then the spell's broken. There's an ugh! and Gepard's eyes snap open, and then promptly flutter half-lidded because it takes more than an offended monster to shake off knock-out gas, but boy is he going to try. He's blushing for a different way. Why does he feel so offended? Why is the monster recoiling from him? He started this?]
How what? [Gepard snaps it out, or tries to, but his every instinct is telling him to aggressively snuggle this guy (the guy's warm and offended and Belobog is cold and miserable, and he's so tired) and Gepard's too busy fighting off the instinct to burrow to be too sharp with the guy. He's sharp enough to get the job done, probably, and he holds onto the guy like a koala...not that he knows what that is. But like that.]
[Are there no bodies because Sampo hasn't left any, or are there no bodies just because you haven't found them, Gepard Landau?]
[Well. It's because Sampo actually does put in a lot of effort into not killing anyone, but technically Gepard doesn't know that. All he knows is that they haven't found any bodies.]
[The whole kiss of the vampire moment is broken when Sampo recoils from him, of course it is, but thankfully the anesthetic keeps Gepard from struggling too much. He's more clinging to Sampo than trying to fight him off, which is more annoying than restrictive with how sluggish his movements are. Almost like he's trying to catch him? Sampo has no choice but to keep supporting his weight and endure his grip, too.]
Yeah, I bit you, and you taste terrible.
[Okay, rude, but also Gepard really tastes awful. Like, Sampo's bit a lot of people, and there's a wide range of flavors that people juice comes in, but this? This is the worst, like, objectively speaking. Which feels very unfair, because Gepard smells like he should be a gourmet meal but tastes like something you'd fish out of a dumpster.]
What have you been eating? You're so... bitter. People aren't supposed to taste this bad, are you sick or something?
[Technically, Sampo couldn't really catch anything from a sick person, but that doesn't mean that he wants to get all that in his mouth, either. Ugh, it figures, the first person he finds when he's starving has like, weird space boonies herpes or something.]
I should leave you by the hospital so that the doctors can look at you, there's something wrong with you. [Sigh.] That's so far out of my way, and I can't even get a decent meal out of you...
Bitter? [His eyes widen and Gepard tries to snap up his head so he can glare defiantly at the strange, strange man. Due to the anesthetic, the sudden movement makes him moan, and not in a good, sexy sort of way, so much as in a bad, he might vomit if he's moved around too quickly sort of way. Still.
Still.
Gepard learns a few things. The first being that he's shorter than someone...it's a strange feeling. The second, is that the strange...whatever this guy is-]
You have nice eyes? [It's said more like a question than it is an actual statement, because he's stlil groggy, clinging to the world's weirdest thief like he's a koala, slightly succumbing to inevitability and maybe cuddling just a little, and just got bitten and apparently tastes terrible...? This shouldn't be as offending as it is.]
What am I saying- why do you need blood? [There's a lot he's missing.] Most people don't need to eat blood? Is that why you keep on attacking people? I- [Wait.] There's nothing wrong with me. I just- [Maybe has a terrible schedule. Maybe he skips meals and eats too much lizard.] I'm not sick.
[Sampo adjusts his grip on Gepard when he hears that moan, trying to keep him steady. The last thing he needs is his unwilling dinner date to get nauseous and ruin his shoes. Normally, his meals don't have to deal with any nausea after they've gotten hit with one of his bombs, because they're unconscious by now.]
[So Sampo's learning all sorts of new things about the affects of his drugs on humans, especially when Gepard looks up at him and compliments his eyes. In other circumstances, Sampo might think that he was being coy, maybe intentionally flirting a little. In these circumstances? He's just loopy.]
Thanks, you're pretty cute yourself. And pretty durable, too, most people are out like a light by now.
[Of course he had to find the one guy in Belobog who wouldn't get knocked out by his bombs and tastes like a bar floor. And stays clear-headed enough to start asking really pointed questions, like why Sampo's going around noshing on necks.]
It's kind of a long story, friend, and we're not close enough for that kind of kiss and tell. But I promise that I'm not out here biting people for fun! [Okay. He needs to get this guy over to the hospital so that a doctor can figure out what his deal is, so it's time to shift his grip into a bridal carry. Up you get, Gepard, into the weird man's arms.] I've got the worst dietary restrictions. Nothing but the real deal will work for me!
[It's human blood or bust. He can drink animal blood and it helps to stave off the hunger pangs, but it's like filling your stomach up with water-- a temporary measure. It won't stop you from starving. Sampo's learned a lot of tricks to keep him on that edge, and now that Gepard's in his arms, he might be able to feel it-- the way his clothes pad him out a little to make him look bigger around the shoulders and chest, gloves to hide how knobbly his hands have gotten. The knife-sharp cut of his cheekbones and jaw, which a lot of people would just write off as something attractive, good genes.]
Even if you're not sick sick, you still don't taste good. You should get checked out. Don't worry, I'm not going to bite you again.
[It hits him a half-second too late. It specifically hits him as he's scooped into the warm arms of Belobog's Strangest Mugger. Gepard's curling towards that warmth like he's a kitten being held, a soft sound escaping his lips because he's in that strange place where he's just tired enough he wants a nap, but a little too awake to actually sleep. That sort of space. And the world's spinning, a little, but being held? Surprisingly, astonishingly nice, and he should fight and be a Silvermane Captain.
But he doesn't, in part because this is the part in which he realizes that the guy called him cute. Gepard blushes, a light flush, and hopes the dim lighting keeps the guy from seeing that, or, barring that, he assumes it's a blush of shame at being held.
...okay. It's fine. Focus on the alarming part.]
You can't. [His hand gropes for the guy's face. It's a bit of a struggle, but he manages to cup his astonishingly (now that Gepard's paying attention) bony cheek, all things considered, and then forcibly turns it towards him. Someone passing by would assume they're having a...uh, moment, but Gepard's not thinking about that. He's thinking about the fact that he's being taken to the hospital and also-
Shouldn't he be encouraging the guy to take him to the hospital? Wouldn't that just mean he has to say, "Ignore the position, this is the thief and criminal, get him, guards." And then enough Silvermane Guards can jump him that the problem will solve itself. (It would not, but let him pretend. He doesn't know the whole story.)
But no. No. Gepard skims the guy's face, and tries to pull himself closer. People passing by would turn and walk away from the scene, and any implications are going whoosh over Gepard's head. He studies his eyes, nose, lips, eyes again.]
How many have you killed? [It comes out as more of a challenge than intended, but he's also woozy, just got bitten, and a lot has just happened in the last few minutes, modulating his voice is the last thing Gepard has in mind. He's trying to decide on something.]
[It's almost sweet, the way that this guy curls into his arms as though he's seeking warmth. And he blushes, and that makes him look more cute, and he really does kind of look familiar even though Sampo can't quite place from where. He feels like he should recognize him, but he just can't quite place where he would have seen his face before. Wouldn't he have remembered seeing a handsome guy like this wandering around Belobog? He would've at least flirted with him.]
[Cute guy kind of fumbles at his face for a second, and Sampo tips his head away from that groping hand until it figures out what it's doing and finds his cheek. He lets him move his head, turning it so that he's looking at his pretty cargo. He's got gorgeous eyes-- pale, piercing blue. You can't, he says, like that's a good enough argument to keep Sampo from taking him to a doctor.]
Come on, don't be stubborn-- [He was going to just ignore the guy's protests and keep going, but the next thing out of his mouth is far more pointed, more serious. There's this flinty edge in his voice like he's used to giving orders and having them followed, and out of everything, that's what makes his face click into place in Sampo's brain.]
[This is the Silvermane guard captain. Sampo hadn't recognized him at first because he's only ever seen him at a distance, wearing his uniform and armor and flanked by guardsmen. Powerful and seemingly invulnerable.]
Were you setting a trap for me, Captain? Where are the rest of your guards? [It would be stupid for him to set a trap without an ambush. He couldn't have been foolish enough to play bait without having backup, nor would he have been stupid enough to wander around like this on his own accord. Great. Either Captain Landau is secretly an idiot (or stunningly arrogant), or there's a contingent of guardsmen waiting somewhere that he hasn't picked up on yet.]
[He huffs a sigh. What a bad fucking night this is.] Even if I told you the truth, would you believe me?
[Strange Guy huffs a sigh at him, and Gepard huffs a sigh right back at him because whose fault was it that they were in this situation? He wants to snuggle, but he...can't and also, shouldn't want to snuggle, but he also wants to because Belobog is cold, he's underdressed, and he's tired because someone (Sampo) had gassed him, and the only reason why he's still awake is because someone (Sampo) had made a loud noise just as he was getting into things and jarred him awake...
...which is probably a good thing, but tasting that bad is...
It's something. It's a something. It's sure a something.
He's being asked to think. Gepard hates the fact he has to consider questions and think. Would he trust what the guy says?]
...maybe. [He says this after a moment, hand still on cheek, which...he should move, and does. Hand on collar is better, and still gives him the leverage to stare at Weird Blood-Drinker.]
You could kill me, and haven't.
[A point in his favor.]
I'm in your arms and you're trying to take me to the hospital... [Fuck. He's reaching a conclusion he doesn't like.] And if we don't move soon my reinforcement will come looking for me - they have orders. [Fuck.] Away from the Administrative District.
[That's an order. He'd do it himself, go walk, but...drugged and feeling sick, so Sampo needs to do the moving for them.]
[He could kill him. He probably should kill him, because the Captain of the Silvermane guards knows what he looks like. Even if he doesn't know his name, asking around for the blue-haired guy with green eyes in a place like Belobog would bring up a pretty short list of names, with his right at the top. Leaving bodies is high profile, but so is biting a lawman.]
[But he also doesn't like leaving bodies. And Gepard's probably already coming to that conclusion on his own, based on his own behavior.]
[More immediate problem, though-- there are more guards in the area, and they're going to start looking for their wayward Captain. Staying here means that they'll definitely find him and catch him red-handed, literally standing around like an asshole with Gepard in his arms. Granted, leaving with Gepard also means that they're going to think he kidnapped him or something, but he kind of doesn't want to leave him on the street, either. He doesn't know how long it'll take for his boys to find him, and he's having a strange reaction to Sampo's anesthetics. If he can't take him to the hospital, he should at least look after him and make sure he sobers up.]
You're really a pain, do you know that? [But he's moving, taking Gepard away from the Administrative District where his guardsmen are presumably waiting for him.] You're lucky that you're cute.
[Sampo has a safehouse in the Overworld, and he hates that he'll have to abandon it after this, but there's nowhere else for him to take Gepard to at this time of night. He navigates the twisting back alleys with easy familiarity.]
For what it's worth, I don't kill people. [For what it's worth, which probably isn't much.]
[Sampo shifts Gepard's weight a little to get at his keys, opening a door that leads to one of those tiny nothing one-bedroom apartments in the cheap part of town. It's not much, but he really only uses it to crash for the night anyway-- it just needs to be a place that's warm and secure, it doesn't need to be fancy. But it's got a bedroom with a real bed in it and a couch that's mostly comfortable and definitely secondhand, and a kitchenette that has literally no food in it other than a can of instant coffee. If he turns on the boiler for long enough, he can even sometimes take a shower that's kind of warm.]
Home sweet home. [He shuts the door with his hip and has to shift Gepard again to bolt the lock. Then it's down onto the threadbare couch for you, Captain, hope it's good enough for you. Try to stay put while Sampo gets the geomarrow heater going to warm the place up.]
[He's called cute again, and Strangely Considerate Thief might notice Gepard's face turning pink- pinker as he's suddenly very disinterested in looking at the guy, grumbling a shy-]
Don't call me that.
[As he tucks himself back into his arms, holding tight. It's strange, being held and carried like he's important, like he's worth protecting instead of being the protector; stranger given who's doing this. (Or is the word what? Not who, what.)
He watches with blue eyes as they wind through streets, breathing the air in, out, in again - his stomach is starting to feel more settled, less queasy. He's taken to an unremarkable apartment building on an unremarkable street. Small. Barren, and intellectually? Gepard knows that it's likely just a safe house. Emotionally? He hopes the guy has somewhere...nicer, somewhere.
He's quiet as they enter, besides a slight surprised noise as he's shifted like he weighs nothing.
He's dumped on the couch, and he tries to get up and immediately regrets it as he lies back down again. He feels better. Better isn't a synonym for good.
But he watches and feels...weirdly safe, and Gepard wants to ask important questions like where does he get his blood, or if there's other blood-drinkers in Belobog or if he really tastes that bad...
...this might bother him, yes...
But first things first. Gepard shifts very carefully, the better to look at his...
Whatever he is. He licks his lips, tries to speak, clears his throat, licks his lips again - one of Gepard's hands touches his neck, then, back down again.]
What should I call you? [Then;] It doesn't have to be your real name. I know how this works just as well as you do. [Then.] I'm Gepard. Captain Gepard Landau. [Which the guy might have known. Judging from how he reacted, he definitely knew he was a Silvermane, decent chance he knew he was Captain Landau. Probably didn't expect being able to jump to 'Gepard', which was why he said it, as there was a time and place for formalities and that time and place isn't when he's on a strange guy's couch, staring at someone with dietary restrictions that forces him to eat...people.]
[Most of the places that Sampo stays are like this-- small, basic, easily abandoned if need be. That's how he's had to live, being a fugitive from a capricious space god. The heater starts up with an asthmatic little noise; it's probably getting close to its last legs. But for now, it works, and it doesn't take much to warm up such a small space.]
[While Gepard watches him, he goes to one of the cabinets and pulls out a first-aid kit, for the bite he left on the Captain's throat. That'll have to be taken care of, before he sends Gepard back to meet his guards. They'll certainly still notice it, but it won't be as alarming as having the guy show up with an open wound.]
[Gepard asks for his name, and introduces himself. Sampo's half surprised that he's bothered to ask.]
I already know who you are. [He's an off-worlder pretending to be a native, he's not stupid.] You're the Silvermane guard's golden boy. The savior of Belobog! Who doesn't know you in this town?
[As for giving a name of his own... well, he'd really like to stay off of the Silvermane's radar for as long as possible. Granted, Gepard could probably track down his real name if he tried hard enough, but why make it easy for him?]
[He brings the kit over and sets it on the couch next to Gepard, flipping the lid open to reveal its contents-- bandages, antiseptic, the usual.] You can call me Figaro.
[It's unlikely that Gepard knows much about theater, so it'll be a private little joke for him.]
Let me clean your neck up, Captain. You can't go out in public looking like that!
[Gepard makes a face at the name, his nose wrinkling. Figaro. He knows a fake name when he hears one, usually, and here's the thing. The fact he's given a fake name? Reasonable in itself. He expected it. Gepard had given him an opening, and he hadn't expected the unfortunately handsome stranger to respond with an honest name. No, that's not the problem in itself.
No, the problem is that the guy called himself Figaro. Not the worst name? There's worse names. Gerard. Rupert. Elmo. But also, it's not the sort of name that Gepard wants to fantasize about, and he realizes in that moment (with a terrible clarity that he hates) that he's absolutely going to fantasize about some guy who calls himself Figaro. His dreams are going to be haunted by Figaro.
But there's no way Gepard's going to tell Figaro that he's got the sort of face he can see himself falling in love with. Gepard doesn't. He just takes that thought, unproductive as it is, and shoves it aside in his head. Gone. Banished.
They should focus on more important things, but- Gepard shakes his head, touches whatever he can of...damned Figaro he can. An arm, a hand.]
...before you do, I know I taste... [Terrible. Awful. Horrible, apparently.] Regrettable. But when's the last time you've ate something? [...] ...er, someone? [Is that the word for it?]
[Well, sorry about your Figaro-haunted spank bank, Gepard. That's your life now, these are your choices. This whole situation could have been avoided if you'd never decided to do a solo mission to capture a weird not-mugger, now your penance is having fantasies about a guy named Figaro.]
[There would be absolutely no comfort for him if he knew that later, Sampo would probably have to tug it to a guy named after a wild cat known for both its land speed and its entire species' intense anxiety. So, really, nobody's winning here.]
[Gepard's hand lands on Sampo's arm, stopping him as he's taking out the bandages and antiseptic to clean up his neck. He expresses concern for him, and it's probably pretty sad that he's the first person in a long while to say something like that to him-- other than Natasha. But she only said something because she's a doctor and sometimes saw Sampo without a shirt on when he got injured.]
Are you worried for me, Captain? [He puts his other hand theatrically over his heart.] I might swoon!
If you're asking me to eat you, I usually don't do that kind of thing until after the first date. [He winks obnoxiously, then takes Gepard's hand in his own and kisses the knuckles. There-- that'll be ridiculous enough to distract him from a line of questioning that Sampo doesn't like to have prodded.]
[Besides, it sounds like a bad idea to get his teeth into the Captain again, even if he does offer. The Silvermane guard probably won't look too kindly on their beloved leader getting his blood drained, even if it was a meal freely given. Sampo doesn't need to take any more heat than he has to, it's hard enough for him to get blood as it is. If he eats any less frequently than he already is... well, then he'll really be in trouble.]
[Figaro (why) asks if he's worried for him, and Gepard grimaces, as...apparently he is? And apparently, Gepard wants to push things, and he opens his mouth to do just that, but then; Figaro (why?) puts his hand over his heart and declares that he'll swoon, which distracts Gepard just enough that he has to make an annoyed noise. And then he says he'll eat him after the first date, which makes Gepard stare - wide-eyed - and blush. Red-tipped ears, his mouth working wordlessly, because what can he say to that? What, exactly can he say?
And then-
His hand is held. A kiss is pressed to his knuckles. Gepard inhales, sharp, his fingers ever so slightly trembling, curving around Figaro's own. Because he's not meant for this sort of thing. Gepard knows this. He's not meant for...whatever this is. Fake passes, faker flirting. Which means that he has no idea what to do about the fact that this feels like he's being flirted with? Well, it's obviously flirting, but flirting as a distraction. Flirting as a misdirection.
He swallows, hand still in the unfortunately named Figaro's own. He should pull away. Gepard knows this. He doesn't, not quite yet.]
If you're satiated, then...fine, I know I taste terrible. [...which is really embarrassing?] But the Silvermane Guard is looking for you. If things had gone slightly differently, this night would have ended far worse for you.
[Apparently he is concerned, but Gepard's telling himself that Figaro's a Belobog citizen with haunting eyes and unique dietary requirements, and there's no reason why they can't meet his unique dietary requirements, this is simply a matter of public service and he's not thinking with his dick right now. (He can do both. Both's possible. But he's ignoring the dick and focusing on the public service angle.)]
I can try to come up with something more... [What's a good word for it?] ...sustainable, but it'll take time, and I don't know if time is something you'll have.
[Interesting! Though Gepard flushes a pretty red when the-man-currently-known-as-Figaro kisses his knuckles and flirts, he doesn't pull away or chastise him for it, or even turn him down. His hand remains in Sampo's grasp. He continues to be concerned about his well-being, even though he has absolutely no reason to be. Really, he has every reason to not give a single fuck about whether or not Sampo can sustain himself, and every reason to send his guardsmen to raid Sampo's safehouse the second that he's back with them.]
[What a strange guy. Sure, he's a keeper of the peace or whatever, but technically, what Sampo did to all those people was a crime, even if he didn't cause any permanent damage and didn't want to hurt them in the first place. Being desperate has very little impact in a court of law.]
[And is he satiated? Not even a little bit. What he got out of Gepard was barely a sip, hardly even enough to take the edge off. Sampo can't even really remember the last time that he was actually able to eat until he was full. It's been a scarcity diet since he left his Aeon. But, hey, it keeps his figure trim, right?]
Don't you worry about me. Ol' Figaro's been in worse spots than this before, and I've pulled through! What's one skipped meal?
[If Gepard's been keeping track, he'd know that the last person they'd found who'd been attacked by their mystery mugger had been almost two weeks ago.]
I've already tried to go the whole, [He waves a dismissive hand.] ethically-sourced people juice route. It's really not reliable. The hospital doesn't have a whole lot of blood to spare on a normal day, and definitely not if something bad happens.
[And he's not willing to take badly needed blood bags from the hospital when they've got patients who need them.]
It's okay. Really!
[It's not okay. But what else can he do but smile and try to deal with it?]
[Gepard catches himself before his voice gets too loud, because not all soundproofing is equal, and it's important to him that they don't get interrupted for...some reason. That's the power of a pair of pretty green eyes, strong arms, and a kiss to the knuckles, apparently.
...but he's not one for self-examination. Now isn't the time. Gepard pulls his hand away from fucking Figaro, scowling.]
It's not okay. [He says this in a lower, quieter, more controlled voice. Deliberate. Insistent. Poking Figaro in the chest because moving is still a bit difficult, but he's getting there.] You've been assaulting people, Figaro. And while I can justify it based upon your... [Unique dietary restrictions.] ...reasons, that doesn't change the fact you violated the law. By all rights, I should have you arrested.
Don’t have me arrested, I’m too pretty for prison.
[Really, a few days in jail would be nothing, but if he was actually convicted? It wouldn’t be a good time. He’d have to get the hell off of this planet before he got locked up, and he’d kind of gotten a little fond of this backwater iceball.]
[He should be taking Gepard seriously. The guy is the captain of the guard, he has some legitimate pull around here. But he’s cute when he’s mad and poking Sampo in the chest, calling him by a silly alias. Sampo can’t help but smile at him, amused.]
[Now that he has his hand back, Sampo kneels down by the couch and gets out the antiseptic, wetting a cotton pad with it. Gotta take care of that neck wound, Gepard, let your good pal wipe that up for you. He’s very good with his hands, has a very gentle touch.]
So what exactly do you want me to do, Captain? I can’t rely on blood bags, I can’t get it myself. It sounds like you’re suggesting that I should just go out into the snowfields and starve!
[Those green eyes look up at him, all sad and downturned. He’s gotten the sad puppy look down-pat, it’s a useful skill.]
[It's easy enough to bluff when he doesn't have to face actual difficult choices, and, really, Gepard had made his choice when he warned Figaro and told him to avoid the ambush waiting for him. He just doesn't have to acknowledge it. It can remain the Aeon in the room they're both politely ignoring.
For now: his eyes narrow. The sad puppy look is horribly effective. He hates that it's effective. The gentle hands against his neck? Also effective. Not a lot of people touch him, let alone gently. So now here he is, glaring at Figaro (what a terrible name) like he's an angry-yet-anxious cat trying to decide if he's going to submit to petting or claw his eyes out, letting his neck get wiped.]
You've been assaulting people, you need blood- what will happen if you don't get enough? What will you do if you get that hungry?
[He struggles to at least sit up, kind of, the better to peer at Figaro with some dignity because he feels as though he's not being taken seriously. Just a hunch. He should've slapped Figaro in the face when all of that flirting started, probably. Hindsight.]
I can maybe order my men... [He can't. Shouldn't. Wouldn't. Gepard knows this. He's stalling for time because there's really only one solution that his brain is hitting on and it's a terrible, horrible one.] You're lucky, [scowl, poke,] I was the one who found you.
[The bite on Gepard’s throat had coagulated and started to scab over quickly once Sampo’s teeth left him— people always stopped bleeding pretty quickly once he was done with them. Something in his saliva, he assumes, but he’s never tried to really test it out. Gift horses, mouths, all that.]
[Once the bite is cleaned up, Sampo applies the bandage, taping it down so that it lies flat against his neck.]
I’ve never been hungry enough to savage somebody, if that’s what you’re asking me.
[He’s been hungry before, hungry enough to… not have a whole lot of dignity about how he gets a meal. Hungry enough to beg Natasha and not ask questions about where she got it from. But he’s got limits, lines he won’t cross, and he hasn’t crossed them yet.]
[He can’t order his men to ignore the assaults, or to stop investigating them. Sampo sighs again; is this what does it? This is what forces him to leave again, to flee the planet, just after he started to get a little comfortable? One bad night and a handsome guard captain and everything is ruined.]
Am I? [He doesn’t feel lucky. He, in fact, feels spectacularly unlucky right now.] I don’t know, I think I’d rather it had been that one really big guy you have in the guard. You know, the one with the big helmet who’s like seven feet tall? I bet if I took a bite out of him, he wouldn’t have even noticed.
[Plenty of blood in that guy, he wouldn’t have missed a pint or two.]
...Dunn? [He says this in a horrified murmur. Gepard never thought he'd be thinking I wish a weird blood-drinking guy would want my blood, but now here he is, bitterly envious of the fact that Dunn is apparently tastier than he is.]
If you attacked him I'd be trying to bash in your head right now.
[And isn't it better they're talking? Isn't it? Or is it just him.
Thinking with his dick is terrible. He never wanted to know what it felt like, but here Gepard is, thinking with his dick and fully aware of it. He should set up some kind of watch/guard situation in which the Silvermane Guard donate blood and their doctors study Figaro. That's the practical, sensible choice.
But...
Gepard's eyes shift to Figaro's own and his hand - the same hand that had been kissed, and his knuckles burn - touch his neck. The sensible thing for Figaro to have done would've been kill him and hide his body. He hadn't done that. And caging the man felt...
...uncomfortable.]
What are you doing tomorrow night? [Gepard says this with confidence. Don't tell him what he sounds like. He (doesn't) know what he's doing. He has a plan, or the beginnings of one.]
[Technically, Sampo doesn’t know if Dunn is any tastier than Gepard. Maybe all the Silvermane guardsmen taste like that, just because guardsmen lead such stressful lives. Or maybe Dunn would be a real snack and Gepard does have something to worry about. Maybe one sip from such a big, sturdy man would get Sampo hooked.]
[It’s a lot of maybes! But Dunn is a brick wall of heterosexuality anyway, so Sampo would be barking up the wrong tree regardless of how delicious Dunn might be.]
[Gepard threatens violence upon him, had he the audacity to go after his biggest guardsman. Sampo hums in amusement, acknowledging his threat.]
I bet you’d sure try! I’m a hard man to catch, Captain.
[So he says, until said Captain asks him a question that very much sounds like a date. This is like… maybe the third weirdest situation that he’s been asked out in. That friendly, slightly shit-eating grin returns, and Sampo props his elbow on the couch cushion and his chin in his hand, looking up at Gepard.]
[He flushes at the wink, doing his best to shove Figaro off of the couch cushion with his foot as he does so. It doesn't matter who originally owned this couch. It's his couch now, no Figaros (or Sampos) allowed.]
I don't mean it like that, idiot. [What the heck, he's feeling even more attacked than he did when the guy actually attacked him.
It's fine. Captain of the guards, he has a public speaking voice he can use for this idiot. Something firm...yet polite.]
If you can't feed on animals, and you've attacked enough people that we're starting to notice, that only leaves me supplying you with blood...somehow.
[Somehow.] Tomorrow night will give me enough time to... [Inhale, exhale, he doesn't want to admit this.] ...go to the hospital.
[Don't fucking say it.] Our cover story can be that you found me when I was passed out and I wanted to take you out for dinner as thanks. That's not too far off from the truth.
It sounded like that! I promise, it would be a lot more fun than what we did in that alley.
[Shoved off his own couch by a handsome guard captain, this is Sampo’s life. He ends up on his ass at Gepard’s feet, and that’s not the worst place that he could end up.]
[Gepard is using his Serious Voice on Sampo as though that will have even a little bit of influence over how irreverent he is at any given time. It’s cute! He’s cute, and Sampo likes that he’s cute.]
Well, that’s an excuse for why we’re together, but what’s your plan for my supply?
[It’s good that he’s finally agreed to go to the hospital, too— Sampo almost doesn’t want to draw attention to that fact, in case Gepard gets so embarrassed about it again that he goes back on that decision. He really needs to take better care of himself! Not just for Sampo’s tastes, but also for the sake of his own health. Tasting delicious is just a happy side effect of his good lifestyle choices.]
[Now, Gepard Landau is a simple man in certain respects. Here's one: he hadn't expected that the guy would insist on it being a date, or date-shaped, or date-sounding, or remark on the benefits of a date and how they'd be much more fun than what they did in that alley. Which...sounds nice, and it's only thanks to using his Serious Voice and acting like a captain that Gepard can keep a level gaze on Figaro's face. He's not desperate, this is just work; it's not a date, it's a business meeting disguised as a date; he's acting as a Silvermane Captain, not a man. (Though Sampo can see a flicker of interest at the promise of it being a lot more fun, there and gone again.)
But no, he doesn't have the luxury of thinking about that. He's asked a very good question - what's his plan for Figaro's supply of blood?]
Well...
[He pulls his legs up on the couch as he thinks, curling up a little, and if that makes room for Figaro on the couch, then, well, these things happen. Accidentally. Because maybe a threadbare couch isn't just meant for one man. Maybe a second guy can sit on his couch.]
Long term, I can use my sway with the Supreme Guardian and the Silvermane Guard to arrange for a regular blood drive? The hospital gets more of a regular blood supply, and you can skim off of the top: everyone wins.
[That part's easy enough.]
Short term, however... [This part is far less so. Gepard makes a face: displeased, sour, faintly annoyed.] I suppose you have to put up with my bad taste, and I'll try to figure out a way to improve my flavor so it's not so much of a struggle for you.
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Gepard tries to snarl, and it sounds...sleepy, but still with anger, an implicit threat: he will fucking bash in this guy's head, but then a few things happen in order.
The guy says but a guy's gotta eat.
Gepard's eyes widen in horror/surprise/shock/fear/confusion? A confusing cocktail of feelings, and he's ready to express them, but- remember the smoke? Yeah. Gepard opens his mouth and a loud yawn escapes, and he blushes without thinking about it, a flush, because nothing cuts the tension of whatever is about to happen quite like interrupting it with a yawn.
It's just a vulnerable moment, there and gone again. (He will never live this down, even to himself.)]
Eat? [It's a quiet rasp, because it's just so hard to keep his eyes open and he's slumping all the more, and the only thing that's keeping him awake, to some extent, is stubbornness. Gepard walks the path of Preservation not so much because he's a builder, as he is someone who has the instinct to protect and the instinct to stubbornly cling to whatever-it-is until he's forced away from it.
That said.] Eat? [A quiet, more confused, more horrified, more...something repetition, slightly louder.]
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[And you're on the menu for tonight.]
[The gas has been working its magic, and Sampo takes more of the Captain's weight as it affects him. It's less of a pin now and more of a hold, shifting Gepard's body weight into a more comfortable position for feeding. Moving to support his head, keeping it steady. The horror-confusion-shock in his voice is... not unexpected, but a little uncomfortable for the fact that Sampo knows that from the other side of things, this is a horror movie. It's a nightmare, finding yourself unexpectedly in the clutches of a monster.]
I'm not gonna hurt you. [It's half a reassurance for Gepard, half for himself. He's not going to hurt him. Not really, not any more than Gepard would have been hurt by going to a blood donation.]
[His mouth opens; his teeth scrape over the thin skin of Gepard's throat, too sharp for any human. When he bites down, it's a smooth, practiced motion, designed to pierce into skin and tissue cleanly. A clean bite bleeds clean and heals clean, it's the best for both himself and his victim--]
[Hot blood flows over his tongue.]
[Sampo gags, then recoils.]
Ugh! [This man tastes awful. He's never tasted someone who has such unpalatable blood before, it's like trying to choke down battery acid. The expression on his face would probably be comical if it weren't for the whole, you know, vampiric monster nightmare scenario thing.] What-- how?
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Sniff.
-the monster to smell kind of nice? Or maybe that's just the smoke disorienting him. The world seems to slow. The man says that he won't hurt him, and Gepard grumbles back because on one hand, he's a liar; on the other hand, they hadn't found any dead bodies, so is he a liar? Is he?
He doesn't know.
There's a scrape of lips and teeth over his throat. It's almost tender. It's enough to make Gepard flush (a betraying blush on his cheeks) because this is- this is the most confusing experience he's had, because it's horrifying as he's overpowered and helpless and the monster's being so tender, but also, the monster is being so tender. No one is this tender with him. Not even his sisters.
The monster bites down- Gepard makes a noise as his hand clenches at the monster's shirt, and-
And then the spell's broken. There's an ugh! and Gepard's eyes snap open, and then promptly flutter half-lidded because it takes more than an offended monster to shake off knock-out gas, but boy is he going to try. He's blushing for a different way. Why does he feel so offended? Why is the monster recoiling from him? He started this?]
How what? [Gepard snaps it out, or tries to, but his every instinct is telling him to aggressively snuggle this guy (the guy's warm and offended and Belobog is cold and miserable, and he's so tired) and Gepard's too busy fighting off the instinct to burrow to be too sharp with the guy. He's sharp enough to get the job done, probably, and he holds onto the guy like a koala...not that he knows what that is. But like that.]
You bit me! [And it was weirdly nice?]
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[Well. It's because Sampo actually does put in a lot of effort into not killing anyone, but technically Gepard doesn't know that. All he knows is that they haven't found any bodies.]
[The whole kiss of the vampire moment is broken when Sampo recoils from him, of course it is, but thankfully the anesthetic keeps Gepard from struggling too much. He's more clinging to Sampo than trying to fight him off, which is more annoying than restrictive with how sluggish his movements are. Almost like he's trying to catch him? Sampo has no choice but to keep supporting his weight and endure his grip, too.]
Yeah, I bit you, and you taste terrible.
[Okay, rude, but also Gepard really tastes awful. Like, Sampo's bit a lot of people, and there's a wide range of flavors that people juice comes in, but this? This is the worst, like, objectively speaking. Which feels very unfair, because Gepard smells like he should be a gourmet meal but tastes like something you'd fish out of a dumpster.]
What have you been eating? You're so... bitter. People aren't supposed to taste this bad, are you sick or something?
[Technically, Sampo couldn't really catch anything from a sick person, but that doesn't mean that he wants to get all that in his mouth, either. Ugh, it figures, the first person he finds when he's starving has like, weird space boonies herpes or something.]
I should leave you by the hospital so that the doctors can look at you, there's something wrong with you. [Sigh.] That's so far out of my way, and I can't even get a decent meal out of you...
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Still.
Gepard learns a few things. The first being that he's shorter than someone...it's a strange feeling. The second, is that the strange...whatever this guy is-]
You have nice eyes? [It's said more like a question than it is an actual statement, because he's stlil groggy, clinging to the world's weirdest thief like he's a koala, slightly succumbing to inevitability and maybe cuddling just a little, and just got bitten and apparently tastes terrible...? This shouldn't be as offending as it is.]
What am I saying- why do you need blood? [There's a lot he's missing.] Most people don't need to eat blood? Is that why you keep on attacking people? I- [Wait.] There's nothing wrong with me. I just- [Maybe has a terrible schedule. Maybe he skips meals and eats too much lizard.] I'm not sick.
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[Sampo adjusts his grip on Gepard when he hears that moan, trying to keep him steady. The last thing he needs is his unwilling dinner date to get nauseous and ruin his shoes. Normally, his meals don't have to deal with any nausea after they've gotten hit with one of his bombs, because they're unconscious by now.]
[So Sampo's learning all sorts of new things about the affects of his drugs on humans, especially when Gepard looks up at him and compliments his eyes. In other circumstances, Sampo might think that he was being coy, maybe intentionally flirting a little. In these circumstances? He's just loopy.]
Thanks, you're pretty cute yourself. And pretty durable, too, most people are out like a light by now.
[Of course he had to find the one guy in Belobog who wouldn't get knocked out by his bombs and tastes like a bar floor. And stays clear-headed enough to start asking really pointed questions, like why Sampo's going around noshing on necks.]
It's kind of a long story, friend, and we're not close enough for that kind of kiss and tell. But I promise that I'm not out here biting people for fun! [Okay. He needs to get this guy over to the hospital so that a doctor can figure out what his deal is, so it's time to shift his grip into a bridal carry. Up you get, Gepard, into the weird man's arms.] I've got the worst dietary restrictions. Nothing but the real deal will work for me!
[It's human blood or bust. He can drink animal blood and it helps to stave off the hunger pangs, but it's like filling your stomach up with water-- a temporary measure. It won't stop you from starving. Sampo's learned a lot of tricks to keep him on that edge, and now that Gepard's in his arms, he might be able to feel it-- the way his clothes pad him out a little to make him look bigger around the shoulders and chest, gloves to hide how knobbly his hands have gotten. The knife-sharp cut of his cheekbones and jaw, which a lot of people would just write off as something attractive, good genes.]
Even if you're not sick sick, you still don't taste good. You should get checked out. Don't worry, I'm not going to bite you again.
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But he doesn't, in part because this is the part in which he realizes that the guy called him cute. Gepard blushes, a light flush, and hopes the dim lighting keeps the guy from seeing that, or, barring that, he assumes it's a blush of shame at being held.
...okay. It's fine. Focus on the alarming part.]
You can't. [His hand gropes for the guy's face. It's a bit of a struggle, but he manages to cup his astonishingly (now that Gepard's paying attention) bony cheek, all things considered, and then forcibly turns it towards him. Someone passing by would assume they're having a...uh, moment, but Gepard's not thinking about that. He's thinking about the fact that he's being taken to the hospital and also-
Shouldn't he be encouraging the guy to take him to the hospital? Wouldn't that just mean he has to say, "Ignore the position, this is the thief and criminal, get him, guards." And then enough Silvermane Guards can jump him that the problem will solve itself. (It would not, but let him pretend. He doesn't know the whole story.)
But no. No. Gepard skims the guy's face, and tries to pull himself closer. People passing by would turn and walk away from the scene, and any implications are going whoosh over Gepard's head. He studies his eyes, nose, lips, eyes again.]
How many have you killed? [It comes out as more of a challenge than intended, but he's also woozy, just got bitten, and a lot has just happened in the last few minutes, modulating his voice is the last thing Gepard has in mind. He's trying to decide on something.]
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[Cute guy kind of fumbles at his face for a second, and Sampo tips his head away from that groping hand until it figures out what it's doing and finds his cheek. He lets him move his head, turning it so that he's looking at his pretty cargo. He's got gorgeous eyes-- pale, piercing blue. You can't, he says, like that's a good enough argument to keep Sampo from taking him to a doctor.]
Come on, don't be stubborn-- [He was going to just ignore the guy's protests and keep going, but the next thing out of his mouth is far more pointed, more serious. There's this flinty edge in his voice like he's used to giving orders and having them followed, and out of everything, that's what makes his face click into place in Sampo's brain.]
[This is the Silvermane guard captain. Sampo hadn't recognized him at first because he's only ever seen him at a distance, wearing his uniform and armor and flanked by guardsmen. Powerful and seemingly invulnerable.]
Were you setting a trap for me, Captain? Where are the rest of your guards? [It would be stupid for him to set a trap without an ambush. He couldn't have been foolish enough to play bait without having backup, nor would he have been stupid enough to wander around like this on his own accord. Great. Either Captain Landau is secretly an idiot (or stunningly arrogant), or there's a contingent of guardsmen waiting somewhere that he hasn't picked up on yet.]
[He huffs a sigh. What a bad fucking night this is.] Even if I told you the truth, would you believe me?
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...which is probably a good thing, but tasting that bad is...
It's something. It's a something. It's sure a something.
He's being asked to think. Gepard hates the fact he has to consider questions and think. Would he trust what the guy says?]
...maybe. [He says this after a moment, hand still on cheek, which...he should move, and does. Hand on collar is better, and still gives him the leverage to stare at Weird Blood-Drinker.]
You could kill me, and haven't.
[A point in his favor.]
I'm in your arms and you're trying to take me to the hospital... [Fuck. He's reaching a conclusion he doesn't like.] And if we don't move soon my reinforcement will come looking for me - they have orders. [Fuck.] Away from the Administrative District.
[That's an order. He'd do it himself, go walk, but...drugged and feeling sick, so Sampo needs to do the moving for them.]
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[But he also doesn't like leaving bodies. And Gepard's probably already coming to that conclusion on his own, based on his own behavior.]
[More immediate problem, though-- there are more guards in the area, and they're going to start looking for their wayward Captain. Staying here means that they'll definitely find him and catch him red-handed, literally standing around like an asshole with Gepard in his arms. Granted, leaving with Gepard also means that they're going to think he kidnapped him or something, but he kind of doesn't want to leave him on the street, either. He doesn't know how long it'll take for his boys to find him, and he's having a strange reaction to Sampo's anesthetics. If he can't take him to the hospital, he should at least look after him and make sure he sobers up.]
You're really a pain, do you know that? [But he's moving, taking Gepard away from the Administrative District where his guardsmen are presumably waiting for him.] You're lucky that you're cute.
[Sampo has a safehouse in the Overworld, and he hates that he'll have to abandon it after this, but there's nowhere else for him to take Gepard to at this time of night. He navigates the twisting back alleys with easy familiarity.]
For what it's worth, I don't kill people. [For what it's worth, which probably isn't much.]
[Sampo shifts Gepard's weight a little to get at his keys, opening a door that leads to one of those tiny nothing one-bedroom apartments in the cheap part of town. It's not much, but he really only uses it to crash for the night anyway-- it just needs to be a place that's warm and secure, it doesn't need to be fancy. But it's got a bedroom with a real bed in it and a couch that's mostly comfortable and definitely secondhand, and a kitchenette that has literally no food in it other than a can of instant coffee. If he turns on the boiler for long enough, he can even sometimes take a shower that's kind of warm.]
Home sweet home. [He shuts the door with his hip and has to shift Gepard again to bolt the lock. Then it's down onto the threadbare couch for you, Captain, hope it's good enough for you. Try to stay put while Sampo gets the geomarrow heater going to warm the place up.]
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Don't call me that.
[As he tucks himself back into his arms, holding tight. It's strange, being held and carried like he's important, like he's worth protecting instead of being the protector; stranger given who's doing this. (Or is the word what? Not who, what.)
He watches with blue eyes as they wind through streets, breathing the air in, out, in again - his stomach is starting to feel more settled, less queasy. He's taken to an unremarkable apartment building on an unremarkable street. Small. Barren, and intellectually? Gepard knows that it's likely just a safe house. Emotionally? He hopes the guy has somewhere...nicer, somewhere.
He's quiet as they enter, besides a slight surprised noise as he's shifted like he weighs nothing.
He's dumped on the couch, and he tries to get up and immediately regrets it as he lies back down again. He feels better. Better isn't a synonym for good.
But he watches and feels...weirdly safe, and Gepard wants to ask important questions like where does he get his blood, or if there's other blood-drinkers in Belobog or if he really tastes that bad...
...this might bother him, yes...
But first things first. Gepard shifts very carefully, the better to look at his...
Whatever he is. He licks his lips, tries to speak, clears his throat, licks his lips again - one of Gepard's hands touches his neck, then, back down again.]
What should I call you? [Then;] It doesn't have to be your real name. I know how this works just as well as you do. [Then.] I'm Gepard. Captain Gepard Landau. [Which the guy might have known. Judging from how he reacted, he definitely knew he was a Silvermane, decent chance he knew he was Captain Landau. Probably didn't expect being able to jump to 'Gepard', which was why he said it, as there was a time and place for formalities and that time and place isn't when he's on a strange guy's couch, staring at someone with dietary restrictions that forces him to eat...people.]
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[While Gepard watches him, he goes to one of the cabinets and pulls out a first-aid kit, for the bite he left on the Captain's throat. That'll have to be taken care of, before he sends Gepard back to meet his guards. They'll certainly still notice it, but it won't be as alarming as having the guy show up with an open wound.]
[Gepard asks for his name, and introduces himself. Sampo's half surprised that he's bothered to ask.]
I already know who you are. [He's an off-worlder pretending to be a native, he's not stupid.] You're the Silvermane guard's golden boy. The savior of Belobog! Who doesn't know you in this town?
[As for giving a name of his own... well, he'd really like to stay off of the Silvermane's radar for as long as possible. Granted, Gepard could probably track down his real name if he tried hard enough, but why make it easy for him?]
[He brings the kit over and sets it on the couch next to Gepard, flipping the lid open to reveal its contents-- bandages, antiseptic, the usual.] You can call me Figaro.
[It's unlikely that Gepard knows much about theater, so it'll be a private little joke for him.]
Let me clean your neck up, Captain. You can't go out in public looking like that!
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No, the problem is that the guy called himself Figaro. Not the worst name? There's worse names. Gerard. Rupert. Elmo. But also, it's not the sort of name that Gepard wants to fantasize about, and he realizes in that moment (with a terrible clarity that he hates) that he's absolutely going to fantasize about some guy who calls himself Figaro. His dreams are going to be haunted by Figaro.
But there's no way Gepard's going to tell Figaro that he's got the sort of face he can see himself falling in love with. Gepard doesn't. He just takes that thought, unproductive as it is, and shoves it aside in his head. Gone. Banished.
They should focus on more important things, but- Gepard shakes his head, touches whatever he can of...damned Figaro he can. An arm, a hand.]
...before you do, I know I taste... [Terrible. Awful. Horrible, apparently.] Regrettable. But when's the last time you've ate something? [...] ...er, someone? [Is that the word for it?]
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[There would be absolutely no comfort for him if he knew that later, Sampo would probably have to tug it to a guy named after a wild cat known for both its land speed and its entire species' intense anxiety. So, really, nobody's winning here.]
[Gepard's hand lands on Sampo's arm, stopping him as he's taking out the bandages and antiseptic to clean up his neck. He expresses concern for him, and it's probably pretty sad that he's the first person in a long while to say something like that to him-- other than Natasha. But she only said something because she's a doctor and sometimes saw Sampo without a shirt on when he got injured.]
Are you worried for me, Captain? [He puts his other hand theatrically over his heart.] I might swoon!
If you're asking me to eat you, I usually don't do that kind of thing until after the first date. [He winks obnoxiously, then takes Gepard's hand in his own and kisses the knuckles. There-- that'll be ridiculous enough to distract him from a line of questioning that Sampo doesn't like to have prodded.]
[Besides, it sounds like a bad idea to get his teeth into the Captain again, even if he does offer. The Silvermane guard probably won't look too kindly on their beloved leader getting his blood drained, even if it was a meal freely given. Sampo doesn't need to take any more heat than he has to, it's hard enough for him to get blood as it is. If he eats any less frequently than he already is... well, then he'll really be in trouble.]
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And then-
His hand is held. A kiss is pressed to his knuckles. Gepard inhales, sharp, his fingers ever so slightly trembling, curving around Figaro's own. Because he's not meant for this sort of thing. Gepard knows this. He's not meant for...whatever this is. Fake passes, faker flirting. Which means that he has no idea what to do about the fact that this feels like he's being flirted with? Well, it's obviously flirting, but flirting as a distraction. Flirting as a misdirection.
He swallows, hand still in the unfortunately named Figaro's own. He should pull away. Gepard knows this. He doesn't, not quite yet.]
If you're satiated, then...fine, I know I taste terrible. [...which is really embarrassing?] But the Silvermane Guard is looking for you. If things had gone slightly differently, this night would have ended far worse for you.
[Apparently he is concerned, but Gepard's telling himself that Figaro's a Belobog citizen with haunting eyes and unique dietary requirements, and there's no reason why they can't meet his unique dietary requirements, this is simply a matter of public service and he's not thinking with his dick right now. (He can do both. Both's possible. But he's ignoring the dick and focusing on the public service angle.)]
I can try to come up with something more... [What's a good word for it?] ...sustainable, but it'll take time, and I don't know if time is something you'll have.
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[What a strange guy. Sure, he's a keeper of the peace or whatever, but technically, what Sampo did to all those people was a crime, even if he didn't cause any permanent damage and didn't want to hurt them in the first place. Being desperate has very little impact in a court of law.]
[And is he satiated? Not even a little bit. What he got out of Gepard was barely a sip, hardly even enough to take the edge off. Sampo can't even really remember the last time that he was actually able to eat until he was full. It's been a scarcity diet since he left his Aeon. But, hey, it keeps his figure trim, right?]
Don't you worry about me. Ol' Figaro's been in worse spots than this before, and I've pulled through! What's one skipped meal?
[If Gepard's been keeping track, he'd know that the last person they'd found who'd been attacked by their mystery mugger had been almost two weeks ago.]
I've already tried to go the whole, [He waves a dismissive hand.] ethically-sourced people juice route. It's really not reliable. The hospital doesn't have a whole lot of blood to spare on a normal day, and definitely not if something bad happens.
[And he's not willing to take badly needed blood bags from the hospital when they've got patients who need them.]
It's okay. Really!
[It's not okay. But what else can he do but smile and try to deal with it?]
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[Gepard catches himself before his voice gets too loud, because not all soundproofing is equal, and it's important to him that they don't get interrupted for...some reason. That's the power of a pair of pretty green eyes, strong arms, and a kiss to the knuckles, apparently.
...but he's not one for self-examination. Now isn't the time. Gepard pulls his hand away from fucking Figaro, scowling.]
It's not okay. [He says this in a lower, quieter, more controlled voice. Deliberate. Insistent. Poking Figaro in the chest because moving is still a bit difficult, but he's getting there.] You've been assaulting people, Figaro. And while I can justify it based upon your... [Unique dietary restrictions.] ...reasons, that doesn't change the fact you violated the law. By all rights, I should have you arrested.
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[Really, a few days in jail would be nothing, but if he was actually convicted? It wouldn’t be a good time. He’d have to get the hell off of this planet before he got locked up, and he’d kind of gotten a little fond of this backwater iceball.]
[He should be taking Gepard seriously. The guy is the captain of the guard, he has some legitimate pull around here. But he’s cute when he’s mad and poking Sampo in the chest, calling him by a silly alias. Sampo can’t help but smile at him, amused.]
[Now that he has his hand back, Sampo kneels down by the couch and gets out the antiseptic, wetting a cotton pad with it. Gotta take care of that neck wound, Gepard, let your good pal wipe that up for you. He’s very good with his hands, has a very gentle touch.]
So what exactly do you want me to do, Captain? I can’t rely on blood bags, I can’t get it myself. It sounds like you’re suggesting that I should just go out into the snowfields and starve!
[Those green eyes look up at him, all sad and downturned. He’s gotten the sad puppy look down-pat, it’s a useful skill.]
You wouldn’t be so callous, would you? To me?
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[It's easy enough to bluff when he doesn't have to face actual difficult choices, and, really, Gepard had made his choice when he warned Figaro and told him to avoid the ambush waiting for him. He just doesn't have to acknowledge it. It can remain the Aeon in the room they're both politely ignoring.
For now: his eyes narrow. The sad puppy look is horribly effective. He hates that it's effective. The gentle hands against his neck? Also effective. Not a lot of people touch him, let alone gently. So now here he is, glaring at Figaro (what a terrible name) like he's an angry-yet-anxious cat trying to decide if he's going to submit to petting or claw his eyes out, letting his neck get wiped.]
You've been assaulting people, you need blood- what will happen if you don't get enough? What will you do if you get that hungry?
[He struggles to at least sit up, kind of, the better to peer at Figaro with some dignity because he feels as though he's not being taken seriously. Just a hunch. He should've slapped Figaro in the face when all of that flirting started, probably. Hindsight.]
I can maybe order my men... [He can't. Shouldn't. Wouldn't. Gepard knows this. He's stalling for time because there's really only one solution that his brain is hitting on and it's a terrible, horrible one.] You're lucky, [scowl, poke,] I was the one who found you.
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[Once the bite is cleaned up, Sampo applies the bandage, taping it down so that it lies flat against his neck.]
I’ve never been hungry enough to savage somebody, if that’s what you’re asking me.
[He’s been hungry before, hungry enough to… not have a whole lot of dignity about how he gets a meal. Hungry enough to beg Natasha and not ask questions about where she got it from. But he’s got limits, lines he won’t cross, and he hasn’t crossed them yet.]
[He can’t order his men to ignore the assaults, or to stop investigating them. Sampo sighs again; is this what does it? This is what forces him to leave again, to flee the planet, just after he started to get a little comfortable? One bad night and a handsome guard captain and everything is ruined.]
Am I? [He doesn’t feel lucky. He, in fact, feels spectacularly unlucky right now.] I don’t know, I think I’d rather it had been that one really big guy you have in the guard. You know, the one with the big helmet who’s like seven feet tall? I bet if I took a bite out of him, he wouldn’t have even noticed.
[Plenty of blood in that guy, he wouldn’t have missed a pint or two.]
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If you attacked him I'd be trying to bash in your head right now.
[And isn't it better they're talking? Isn't it? Or is it just him.
Thinking with his dick is terrible. He never wanted to know what it felt like, but here Gepard is, thinking with his dick and fully aware of it. He should set up some kind of watch/guard situation in which the Silvermane Guard donate blood and their doctors study Figaro. That's the practical, sensible choice.
But...
Gepard's eyes shift to Figaro's own and his hand - the same hand that had been kissed, and his knuckles burn - touch his neck. The sensible thing for Figaro to have done would've been kill him and hide his body. He hadn't done that. And caging the man felt...
...uncomfortable.]
What are you doing tomorrow night? [Gepard says this with confidence. Don't tell him what he sounds like. He (doesn't) know what he's doing. He has a plan, or the beginnings of one.]
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[It’s a lot of maybes! But Dunn is a brick wall of heterosexuality anyway, so Sampo would be barking up the wrong tree regardless of how delicious Dunn might be.]
[Gepard threatens violence upon him, had he the audacity to go after his biggest guardsman. Sampo hums in amusement, acknowledging his threat.]
I bet you’d sure try! I’m a hard man to catch, Captain.
[So he says, until said Captain asks him a question that very much sounds like a date. This is like… maybe the third weirdest situation that he’s been asked out in. That friendly, slightly shit-eating grin returns, and Sampo props his elbow on the couch cushion and his chin in his hand, looking up at Gepard.]
That eager to get eaten? How bold.[Wink.]
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I don't mean it like that, idiot. [What the heck, he's feeling even more attacked than he did when the guy actually attacked him.
It's fine. Captain of the guards, he has a public speaking voice he can use for this idiot. Something firm...yet polite.]
If you can't feed on animals, and you've attacked enough people that we're starting to notice, that only leaves me supplying you with blood...somehow.
[Somehow.] Tomorrow night will give me enough time to... [Inhale, exhale, he doesn't want to admit this.] ...go to the hospital.
[Don't fucking say it.] Our cover story can be that you found me when I was passed out and I wanted to take you out for dinner as thanks. That's not too far off from the truth.
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[Shoved off his own couch by a handsome guard captain, this is Sampo’s life. He ends up on his ass at Gepard’s feet, and that’s not the worst place that he could end up.]
[Gepard is using his Serious Voice on Sampo as though that will have even a little bit of influence over how irreverent he is at any given time. It’s cute! He’s cute, and Sampo likes that he’s cute.]
Well, that’s an excuse for why we’re together, but what’s your plan for my supply?
[It’s good that he’s finally agreed to go to the hospital, too— Sampo almost doesn’t want to draw attention to that fact, in case Gepard gets so embarrassed about it again that he goes back on that decision. He really needs to take better care of himself! Not just for Sampo’s tastes, but also for the sake of his own health. Tasting delicious is just a happy side effect of his good lifestyle choices.]
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But no, he doesn't have the luxury of thinking about that. He's asked a very good question - what's his plan for Figaro's supply of blood?]
Well...
[He pulls his legs up on the couch as he thinks, curling up a little, and if that makes room for Figaro on the couch, then, well, these things happen. Accidentally. Because maybe a threadbare couch isn't just meant for one man. Maybe a second guy can sit on his couch.]
Long term, I can use my sway with the Supreme Guardian and the Silvermane Guard to arrange for a regular blood drive? The hospital gets more of a regular blood supply, and you can skim off of the top: everyone wins.
[That part's easy enough.]
Short term, however... [This part is far less so. Gepard makes a face: displeased, sour, faintly annoyed.] I suppose you have to put up with my bad taste, and I'll try to figure out a way to improve my flavor so it's not so much of a struggle for you.
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