lorcvndeath:
“Small talk and compliments, eh?” He had watched the way she shrugged, memorized the way her shoulders moved. Everything about her had fascinated him since their first conversation and he hadn’t meant to let that happen but this girl had explained the exact origin of her name ’It was Italian in its roots, technically, but it created by a Spaniard’ he remembered her saying. And he didn’t know why but he wanted to listen to her explain anything in the world at three in the morning when his mind was flooded with thoughts he couldn’t get together. “Those are bullshit skills anyway,” he told her, shrugging as well. “Real connections are built on conversations about real shit, not about the weather or superficial compliments.” Maybe that’s why he didn’t have very many real connections. Because he, on the other hand, was exceptional at small talk and compliments. But what came from that? Clothes scattered on the floor and nights with girls whose names he’d forget the next week? He didn’t know how to break past that level with anyone. “I guess that’s about the only thing I could beat you at, though,” he said as he shook off the strange thoughts.
He snickered at her answer. “Pure?” Lorcan couldn’t think of anyone who’d ever described anything about him in such a way. “Yes that’s me. Positively pure. But yeah, I mean… I just like making people smile. But music helps me always, so it’s sorta selfish too, because I get the chance to sing.” He pushed his hand through his hair and pursed his lips. “You ever been scared of me, Lucinda? I mean, usually it’s one or the other, people fall all over me or can’t stand to make eye contact. But here you are. It’s… odd. Not that you’re odd, just wondering.”
And maybe he needed her to be one or the either. Maybe he wished she was scared of her or hoped she was swooning over her because he didn’t know how to handle anyone who was in that gray area. “I mean, I’m a big bad vampire, with big sharp teeth. Everyone ought to be afraid of me.” At least that’s what his mother had thought. He stopped thinking about that immediately, feeling like he couldn’t breathe all that well anymore. Because was he a monster? He wasn’t human, but he couldn’t believe that his father was a monster, and since he raised Lorcan, he couldn’t be one either.
He laughed and a big smile spread across his cheeks. “Because everyone expects you to start at one. And I didn’t want to fool you to think that that was a one,” he explained. “I don’t make any drinks that are a measly one, Lucinderella.” He grinned, taking two of the shots. “Mm-hmm. Straight up 34,” Lorcan said, eyeing her curiously. Most people were wobbling on their feet by now. “You don’t need to prove anything to me, y'know. Don’t go overboard. Besides, not many people have drinks personally made for them by the Bat Daddy. I usually just make enough for the whole crowd. It might be extra strong.” He still left the shots out for her, figuring that if he’d learned anything about her, she’d still probably take them. “What would you say if I asked you to dance with me, Lucinda?”
Lucinda watched him steadily. She personally had no use for those skills, so it was easy for her to admit that she didn’t have them, but he did. One could make the argument that Lorcan d’Eath was built for small talk and compliments, for rakish smiles and serenading girls with his guitar. Of course, Lucinda was becoming more and more aware of how much more there was, but that didn’t mean the argument couldn’t have been made. Until he’d barged into her compartment and registered himself on her radar, she’d probably have been perfectly happy to leave her opinion of him at that, with maybe an extra dash of frivolity for good measure. There was more than that, though, she had to acknowledge. She was still deciding how she felt about that. “I’m not particularly well-versed in real connection either, admittedly,” she mentioned. She didn’t know why she was volunteering this information. She wasn’t drunk, but it was just—it was easier, with some alcohol warming her chest and in a place that didn’t feel like it belonged to her life. She didn’t even know if she could count ten people she actually considered friends. She wasn’t the sentimental type either, not likely to tell them how important they were. She shrugged at him, a little more relaxed with her movements than usual. “I don’t mind. I have it where it counts.” She tilted her head thoughtfully at his last comment on the subject. “Nah,” she said after a moment. “You’ve probably got better teeth than me,” she continued, flashing her teeth at him in what most would probably count as a smile, though she would be unlikely to consider it one. “Otherwise... I like to win.”
Lucinda found herself rolling her eyes at him as he snickered. “I don’t mean sexually or anything,” she said matter-of-factly, “but intentions-wise, yes, I think that counts as pure.” He really was full of surprises tonight—or maybe he’d always been, and she’d never paid attention before. Lucinda didn’t see anything wrong with being selfish, so she shrugged. “I don’t see why you would do something if you didn’t enjoy it or benefit from it at all,” she said simply. “The ones who do... well, martyrdom doesn’t usually end well for the person in question.”
At his question, she tilted her head, considering. “Would you feel more comfortable if I fell all over you?” she asked dryly as she thought about it. Like that would happen. “I don’t think so,” she decided. “I mean—you’re part-vampire and it’s stupid for people to just ignore that, but acknowledging it doesn’t mean you have to be afraid. It’s just cataloguing,” she explained. “I do it to everyone every time I walk into a room—if you know the advantages other people have over you, you can factor it in. You can beat it. So I don’t think you’re more dangerous because you’re part-vampire,” she said with a shrug. “You’re just stronger and have sharper teeth. What matters is what you do with it. And—” she stopped abruptly, suddenly aware of how much she was saying, and the very distinct possibility that alcohol was loosening her tongue slightly. “You’re sharper than a pretty boy with a good voice,” Lucinda said, running a hand up her arm. “And people shouldn’t underestimate that. But that’s not exclusive to being a vampire. People underestimate others all the time when they shouldn’t. That’s the dangerous thing.” She paused. “I don’t tend to get afraid. I just... get angry.” It was more that when she was scared, the anger at the feeling overcame it, but she didn’t know how to explain that. She didn’t even know if she wanted to. “But I’m not scared of you. Never have been.” She shrugged. How could you explain that after seeing real monsters in the eyes of men you were meant to trust, even the world telling you someone was a monster couldn’t make it true if you didn’t see it in their eyes? “I’ve seen things to be scared of before,” she eventually decided. “And you don’t scare me.”
Lucinda shook her head, frowning. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,” she said impatiently, before pausing, thinking. “Okay, no, it’s not, but that’s only because I’ve met Gilderoy Lockhart,” she amended. “But how sharp your teeth are only matters when you use them, and you don’t.” She was incredibly self-assured about it for someone who hadn’t talked to Lorcan many times in depth by this point, but she felt to her bones that it was true. He didn’t just use his teeth like a casual weapon—not like some humans used their fists all the time. “Also, ‘big bad’ vampire? Lorcan, you serenade girls at all hours of the day and carry around lollipops.” She arched an eyebrow at him. “The only thing that’s bad about that is how corny the jokes are sometimes—also, have you heard the muggle myth about vampires needing invitations? Clearly disproved that with the train, but might be worth brushing up on,” she quipped. It was strange for Lucinda to be standing there—this boy whom the world viewed as scary, who so dearly wanted not to be, who laughed and sang to pretty girls and loved music; and then her, lithe and strong but still too small when it came to going against some people, whom the world saw as a pretty girl who probably couldn’t hack it, who strove to succeed and do anything she could to that end, who actively was scary and leant into that.
His scale made her head hurt. “But then the scale starts at one, just you don’t start below sev—whatever,” she muttered, cutting herself off mid-argument to focus on the drinks he was holding, though her eyes shot up at his words. “Did you just call me Lucinderella?” she asked incredulously. She had planned to say several words on why she would take the 34, but that train of thought got derailed by his next words. If she’d been drinking anything, she would have choked on it. She still managed to choke on air a little. “Did you just call—I can’t believe you call yourself Bat Daddy,” Lucinda muttered, reaching for the shot. “Depends on if it’s a challenge or a question,” she retorted, before glancing at her drink. He’d said she didn’t need to prove herself, but she wasn’t proving herself to him ( though that was an added bonus ). She had to do it for herself. Glaring at it, she tilted her throat back and threw it down, before wrinkling her nose and gasping slightly. “God, what the fuck was in that?” she asked, putting the shot glass down and blinking. Everything inside her chest felt a lot warmer, and whilst she had been feeling more at ease and relaxed over the entire course of the conversation, it was only now that she was really letting the music rock through her and actually paying attention to the people around her. People who were dancing, people who were having fun. Lucinda didn’t often let loose—she wasn’t big on instant gratification—but when she did, she liked to have fun. And, currently, she wanted to have fun. She turned back to Lorcan. “All right,” she said abruptly. “I’d say yes—unless you’re scared?” she asked, a teasing grin at her lips—easily the widest smile she’d had all night.
