anaesthesinum

@sebastien-roux

Sebastien Roux || 37 || Room #7 “We come unbidden into this life, and if we are lucky we find a purpose beyond starvation, misery, and early death which, lest we forget, is the common lot. I grew up and I found my purpose and it was to become a physician. My intent wasn't to save the world as much as to heal myself. Few doctors will admit this, certainly not young ones, but subconsciously, in entering the profession, we must believe that ministering to others will heal our woundedness. And it can. but it can also deepen the wound.” ― Abraham Verghese, Cutting for Stone

24 posts

Robyn can’t help but feel relieved when her hand is finally released. She pulls it back and stands there a bit awkwardly, shy almost as she looks up at him. He’s handsome and it makes standing there in front of him more difficult than it should have been. She leans idly to the side, tipping her head up at him with a timid smile on her face as he speaks. “The one upstairs is definitely bigger,” she agrees, looking pass him towards the couch. She’d never taken a nap down her, just the foreboding feeling the basement gives her keeping her from even considering it.

At the question on whether or not she’s one of the new tenants, she shakes her head, blonde locks falling over her shoulders at the motion. “Oh, no. I’ve been here for a while now. I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to meet you until now. It’s been really chaotic around here for a while.” She gives him an almost sheepish look at that. She’d liked to think she could greet all of the new tenants, help them find their rooms and show them around the house. But they’d all shown up at the same time.

"Are you from around her originally?" she asks, curiosity taking a hold of her. All of the new tenants had come within two days of each other and it was a curious thing to her what would make the landlord plan it that way. She’d ask him, but she’d never spoken to the man. He never answered his phone.

His face lights up with understanding. Though he hadn't been informed of his other housemates and their peculiarities, he had known there was someone in the house who had lived there longer than anyone else. Sebastien frowns when she apologizes. He agrees that everyone should meet the people they're going to be living with for who knew how long, but it certainly isn't her responsibility. He hasn't spoken to the landlord yet, but he doesn't believe this is his representative or whatever inside the house.

"Oh, don't worry about it. This house is big, but I found my way way around easily." He smiles brightly at her. He doesn't mention that he gave up the first night he got here and decided to sleep at the hospital.

He shakes his head when she asks her question. "No, actually. I'm from France, originally. My mother and I moved here when I was four. I'm just getting used to the city actually." A nervous laugh escapes him He can't help but believe that seeing a taller than average man lost in New York could be the premise for a comedy. "How about you?"

Elijah thinks he could read into it, if he wanted to. Practice made perfect and all that bullshit but he wondered if he liked this game because it helped him practice that self-control thing more than it did a simple game. It was about the only thing he thought he was actively working towards, but it was a fine line and he didn’t know if he was getting anywhere with it. Maybe when he could stand in a room without thinking about killing the man next to him, or at least when he trusted himself not to try whether he was thinking about it or not. Maybe then he’d count himself as something more like okay.

"I don’t really know," he says. It’s his answer to more things than he likes, but he doesn’t let it make him uncomfortable this time. It’s a small thing and at least he’s got an excuse for not having a better answer. He doesn’t know how it’s supposed to be played, and he wonders if Cassie had the right of it and he’s been doing it wrong. It doesn’t matter much to him either way. He finishes setting up the triangle before pulling it back, glancing at the man by the wall. "Only played by the one set of rules. Solids and stripes?" He nods his head at the stick in his hand. "Want to break?"

"Ah." Sebastien says simply. So this man really was a beginner. Perhaps it placed them on a more even playing field since he hadn't so much as touched a pool stick since his last years in med school. And that was over a decade ago. He nods when offered to break. Walking over to one end of the table, he's careful to hit the ball correctly so the triangle breaks cleanly. No object balls are pocketed, but he's fairly sure some hit the cushions. Either way, he's not entirely sure how well Elijah knows the game, or if he's just playing him.

"So," He starts as he starts to round the table, looking for a good shot. "What do you do?" He asks. Though not necessarily afraid of his profession, he's worried that it might set him apart from the other tenants in one way or another.

The smile he flashes her when he wakes up is a pleasant one and she feels some of the trepidation settle in her chest. At least he wasn’t mad at being woken, she’d tried to do it in the nicest way possible. She wonders what brought him down here into the chilly basement. It’s finished, with all the furniture of a normal living space, but the basement has never settled right with her. It’s darker than she thinks it should be and always colder. And the door. She purposely keeps her back towards it as she addresses his, watching him climb up off his feet and stick his hand out.

It’s the same reaction she normally has. Just a slight hesitation, a slight inhalation of breath as she has to mentally and physically prepare herself for that sort of physical contact. Unless she’s the one that instigates it, it always takes her a moment. Sometimes she worries that people might find it rude, but most of the time her mind doesn’t even drift that far. She just stays focused on reminding herself that this is okay. That it’s a handshake and it’s it won’t hurt. That his is how people are supposed to touch each other.

She takes his hand and it’s a peaceful thing that settles across her face. She smiles at him. “Hi, Sebastien. I’m Robyn. And I can understand why you did, this couch is probably the nicest in the house.”

Sebastien doesn't think much of how she hesitates before taking his hand. Elijah had seemed to be in physical pain when he's offered his hand, while Cassie seemed to think of it as a personal offense. He doesn't know if he's simply unlucky when it comes to meeting people or if it's something to do with the house. That would be outrageous, of course, but it's never happened to him anywhere else. I could be a New York thing.

He holds her hand for the shortest time deemed polite before releasing her fingers. The day he finds a person who can give him a decent handshake without giving him a moment's hesitation will be the day his life is complete, he thinks. Still, he gives the woman a smile and casually notes how pretty she is. So not only did this house attract people who were uncomfortable with handshakes, but attractive people who were uncomfortable with handshakes. Or at least, that was what he had noticed so far.

He takes a glance back at the couch and nods. "It's a fine couch, but not nearly long enough to lie down on without looking like a fetus." He jokes, letting out an automatic laugh to accompany his humor. "The one upstairs seems to suit me better." Sebastien stays silent for a moment before speaking once more. "Are you one of the new tenants too?"

#robynatwood #good point #i need o find gifs without text

"I guess not." It’s not supposed to be rude, and it barely occurs to him that it might be taken that way. He just has to honestly think about it before he forms an answer, because he doesn’t really know. Does he mind? Yes, probably. He’s still bad with people, worse with one’s who still have pulses, and he can’t tell if it’s getting easier to deal with or harder. There’s more temptation, but at least he hasn’t tried to kill anyone yet. The thought’s already crossed his mind, but distance makes it better, and he can’t help but think being around other people is probably a thing he should get used to. Besides, even if he can’t recognize the words as potentially rude, he thinks it would be if he woke the man up and then told him to get out, when he lives here too.

He’s not quite sure if he meant he wanted to play or just wanted to stick around, but he starts racking up a game anyway, because this is about all he’s got so far. It distracts his head and his hands and that’s good enough, though if the man’s planning on playing him he figures it’s only fair to warn him. “I’m not very good.”

Sebastien watches the man closely as he starts to set up the game. He hasn't played since college, when he and his friends would go out during the weekends and try to get drunk at one of the local bars. He still remembers the basics of the game, so it can't hurt if the other says he's not very good. "That's what practice is for." He says, restraining himself from calling the man 'friend'. He'd learned not to do that during a fist meeting the hard way.

He walks over to the rack and picks a random pool stick, testing the weight in his hand before shrugging and walking over to the table. "You have any house rules?" He asks. Some people came up with some pretty insane rules while playing pool, but apparently Elijah had been here long enough to play at least one game, and he abided by house rules when someone else knew the table better than he did.

Florence once knew another man named Sebastian and when she recalls him dying, it’s a memory hard to shake. He was no one so important she’d mourn this many years later, but a man, nonetheless, and a man who died at the hands of vampires she had once put her faith into. It was the death of Sebastian that made her leave, an innocent man ravaged from killer instincts. She would never be that cruel, she promised herself. And then she became hungry.

Florence’s hand stretches out and she shakes the man’s, her fingers curling fondly around his. Despite his stench (one that she had undoubtedly grown someone used to over the years), he seemed, from the surface, like he might be good company. “Florence Hench. And it’s quite nice to meet you.”

Once again. he received the same odd feeling he had gotten while shaking hands with Elijah and Dale. He must be coming down with something, he thinks, but he hasn't presented any other symptoms. He'd have to ask one of the nurses back at the hospital to check him over.

Tired of being twisted in a such an odd position, Sebastien scoots over on the couch, just in case she wanted to sit and talk. He sees no other reason for waking him up, except perhaps to annoy him. "So, Florence, how long have you lived here?" He asks, but quickly corrects himself. "That is, assuming you do live here." The man doubts anything else is true. In his head he can't imagine a guest being so rude as to venture into the basement of an unfamiliar house and wake up one of the tenants.

The back of his head is quite a lot different from the front of his head. And she likes the view either way. She grins, tongue clicking once to the roof of her mouth. And by now, she would round the couch and sit beside him, but she doesn’t because the man has accommodated her and turned around. Her hands rest on the couch and grip the back edge of it, an incha way from him.

"Is that so? And in what ways exactly have you been woken up, darling?" Her mind can only wander so far, but she wonders how exactly he has been woken up. If he lives a dangerous life, maybe he woke up with a gun to his head. Maybe he woke up like a normal person. Her smile is half of his words and half that her mind wandered that far into how a werewolf woke up each morning.

For once, he has to look up to see another person. Being more than six feet tall, there aren't many of those moments in his life. He doesn't know how he feels about the situation, but it's definitely different than his normal life. Her question has him wondering what exactly she means by that, but her lilting tone and full smile bring out the charmer his mother had raised and his father had provided the genetics for.

Sebastien grins and offers a one-shouldered shrug, an offhand gesture. "That, darling, would be telling." He says, using the same term of endearment neither were anywhere near using adequately. He's not sure if this situation calls for introductions or not. but while he mother had taught him to charm, his father had made sure he knew there was always room to be polite. So with an outstretched hand he tips his head to the side and observes her quietly. "Sebastien Roux."

It’s night time and despite that Florence has moved her sleeping schedule around to suit the human’s needs, having a human job and a seemingly human life, she’s still a vampire. And so her peek, physically and mentally, are both at odd hours of the night. She doesn’t venture often, but she’s not one to stay still and stay in one place for all that long, so her feet take her downstairs where she smells a wolf. This one, he’s not bad, the scent less like wet dog and simply more like dog. She’s never been sure what makes them that way, but maybe tomorrow he’d smell just the same. Chances were, and she decides this when she rounds the side of the couch, it was because he was only half conscious. It’s only a theory, but two-hundred didn’t mean she had everything figured out.

Florence moves skilfully quietly to the back of the couch where his head dangles off and her sweet, molasses voice wakes him from his almost-slumber. “Darling, I think you’d sleep much better in your own bed.”

The voice in his head drips into his ears like honey. Sweet. Almost too sweet. But he likes it in an odd way, and he drifts back to consciousness on confusion alone. His eyes open and he's staring at the ceiling of the basement. He'd fallen asleep here, that he remembered. He didn't recall, however, there being a woman here when he fell into a state of unknowing. He tips his head to either side, trying to alleviate the tension that had accumulated there after being in such an uncomfortable position for so long. After a few seconds he directs his gaze towards the other person in the room. It takes him a few moments to find her, especially since she had been behind the couch.

He raises a questioning eyebrow at first, but then a smile paints over his features and he forgets about the way she had spoken to him, almost mocking in his ears. The again, he might have been too out of sorts to really know either way. "I have to say, I've been woken up in worse ways."

Robyn can hear the television as she passes by the basement door in the breakfast room. She pauses, wondering who’s down there and if she should go investigate. The basement has never been her favorite place in the house, something made her immensely uncomfortable down there and she knew it had to do with the power flowing through her veins that she kept secret. But there was a curiosity that maybe she’d meet a new housemate and it overshadowed that discomfort she felt.

Heading down the stairs, she kept her feet light, stopping on the last step to peer down into the common room. Some people liked their privacy. They liked to just enjoy themselves without someone else coming in and she didn’t want to intrude if it seemed liked this person was like that. Only she caught sight of the man on the couch, with his head tipped awkwardly over the arm of it and she couldn’t help but smile. There were blankets somewhere down here and she almost had the urge to go and grab one to offer it to him. His neck had to be sore if he’d been there for very long like that, at such an odd angle. The tv was playing some documentary on aliens and as Robyn got closer, it talked about how the person had been visited by them at night. It made the smile slip off Robyn’s face. It’s not a documentary she’d enjoy.

Stepping to his side, she tilted her head to try and see if he’d wake up in her presence alone. When he didn’t, she bit her lip and cleared her throat softly. “Do you want a pillow?” she asked quietly, hoping he’d either wake up and accept or stay quiet and she’d go upstairs to leave him alone.

He doesn't know what he's dreaming about. It has something to do with the manacles in the other room. They're taunting him, always reminding him of the same date, over and over again. The full moon. The full moon. And somehow, the cool light of it casts shadows over the room, making it seem more eerie than it had before.

The soft voice almost isn't enough to wake him up. Perhaps it had to do with how out of place the gentle words were in comparison to his dream, or maybe it was the pleasant scent coming from the woman standing a few feet away. Either way, his eyes flutter open to look around the room. He spots her easily and offers her a lazy smile before bringing his hands up to his face to rub the sleep out of his eyes. Weird dream. After a brief moment Sebastien stands and offers his hand to the woman.

"Not the best place to fall asleep, huh? I'm Sebastien." He said. Handshakes were almost mandatory for him. They showed politeness and the beginnings of trust. And he was almost sure she was one of the people who lived here and not someone's visitor.

#robynatwood #ignore text #and car i suppose

The offered hand makes him stiffen, gaze immediately drawn to the veins running through his wrist, more than anything else. The urge to taste blood on his tongue is powerful and intense, because all he’s eaten for the last week has been out of a plastic bag. It doesn’t taste the same and he knows it never will. The hunger is a constant, and the best he can do is try and keep it at bay. But what’s the point of trying this at all, existing among living, breathing people, if he can’t even shake hands? He forces himself to take it, and it’s even harder to release his fingers afterwards, instead of yanking him forward so he can go for the jugular. “Elijah.”

He still manages it, pulling his hand back and crossing his arms over his chest to try and reestablish physical distance. It’s an important distinction from him, at least for right now. Maybe it’ll get easier and he won’t have to worry about it in the future, but for right now it’s just better. He gives a shrug of his shoulders, nodding past him towards the couch and for the most part doing whatever he can to keep his attention focused on anything not the man in front of him. “You can keep napping if you want. I was just gonna shoot some pool.”

His enhanced eyesight would have allowed him to notice the changes in his posture, how his movements lacked fluidity when he shook his hand, but Sebastien was a little too groggy to do anything more than nod at the introduction and turn away as soon as it was accomplished. Manners were important to him. Or, they were important to his parents, so in one way or another, they passed that on to him.

He glances over at the previously mentioned pool table. He'd been down here the door before, but that had been around the time Cassie had stated that the house had a sex dungeon. And well, who wouldn't go steal a quick look at that? But his heart was racing after being woken up by someone else's voice after having lived by himself for a long time. Still, this was what he had signed up for, company, and he would simply have to get used to it. Or start sleeping in his bedroom. "I don't think I could sleep again if I wanted to." He eyes the stairs, wondering if this place had a coffee maker. "Mind some company?"

There was an offhand curiosity if it looked bad, Elijah sleeping all day. Chances were it just made him look lazy, but there wasn’t much else to do when he couldn’t step out into the sun. Winter was better though, because the days were shorter, and one ones like this it was overcast and dark enough that he thought he probably could’ve risked at least the porch. He took his coffee and a cigarette out there, but he wasn’t at the point where he was comfortable venturing much farther than that, so he aimed his steps towards the only thing he had that could even vaguely be considered a hobby right now.

Except the basement was occupied, and that had him stalling for a minute on the steps, his gaze flicking between the pool table and the couch. It wasn’t anyone he’d met yet, but from the noise in the house there were more than a few people that still fit that description. It had him hesitating for longer than he liked, chewing on his lip before he forced himself to finish his descent. The man was asleep anyway, and he wondered if he would sleep through it if he tried to play anyway. Someone on the television was talking about spaceships and anal probes, and he eyed the remote in his hand and wondered if he’d care if he turned it off. There was the vague thought he should just go to his room if he wanted to sleep, but it was absent of irritation, just a kind of unease that he didn’t really know how to respond in these situations. So he settled for a “hey.”

Sebastien woke with a start. The small 'hey' was a little too loud in his ears. He corrected his posture automatically and whirled around, not noticing that the man who had woken him was no far from him. His brow furrowed in something akin to irritation, but he quickly realized where he had fallen asleep. He wasn't particularly embarrassed to be seen sleeping in the middle of a public place, just a little annoyed with himself for falling asleep here instead of in his bedroom.

He bent over, rubbing his face with warm fingers. After he got over the initial shock of waking up in an unfamiliar environment, the man glanced over to his living alarm clock. "Hey." He said, though the reply was several minutes too late. Sebastien brought up his wrist and checked the time. He'd been asleep for a little over half on hour. Not nearly enough for his shift the next morning. Still, he wasn't sleepy anymore. He rose from the couch, stretching his back without a trace of self-consciousness before walking over to the dark-haired man and extending his hand for him to shake. "Quite a way to wake a man up. I'm Sebastien. I don't think we've met."

Cassie isn’t sure she likes him. Not because he’s a doctor, but because he probably likes what he does. She’s jealous. Though it’s probably a good thing she’d never gone into medicine. She can too easily imagine Charlie stealing a prescription pad and helping himself to an entire drugstore’s worth of pills. She unconsciously takes a step back when he comes closer. Why couldn’t he be awkward and distant like a goddamn gentleman?

His smile is all teeth. A wolf’s smile. Oh man, she thinks with a nod. As if everything is suddenly clicking in her head. Right. Doctor. Handsome. Charming. He’s a playboy. He was totally a playboy. No wonder he was so at ease, he probably thought she was falling in love with that PhD and winning smile. The self-deprecating humor was cute, but unimpressive. She wasn’t interested in having a conversation with some douche bag who thought he was God’s gift. “Well, then, I’ll be sure to forget this entire conversation.” she says with a bright smile of her own. Her feet find the stairs and she tosses her voice over her shoulder. “Have a good one, Bash.”

He'd thought he'd been making progress, but obviously she wasn't at all impressed. maybe he'd do well to stay away from this girl for the time being. He didn't want to make her uncomfortable, but it left him thinking that one of his first attempts at making friends certainly hadn't gone very well. He shrugs to himself before reaching over to grab the remote to the TV and offering her a small wave. "You too, Caz." He says, thinking himself very clever at giving her her own nickname.

#cassandramacleod #omg i'm so sorry

After arriving from the hospital at five in the morning, Sebastien hadn't been able to get a wink of sleep. Not even when he listened to classical music while reading one of his old med school books. Those had always managed to put him straight to sleep when he needed to study for a test the next day, but when he needed them, nothing. He tossed and turned in his bed, already missing the king-size bed he'd been sleeping in for the past three years. After finding no success in his room, he had decided to go down to the basement and watch television.

There, settled into the deep cushions of the couch, he'd watched a marathon of 'Here Comes Honey Boo Boo' and heard how his neurons died one by one with each episode. After switching channels and finding the History channel, he paid attention to the first fifteen minutes of a documentary starring some nut case who'd been abducted by aliens. Yeah, right. That was like saying vampires existed or zombies would eventually take over the Earth. Sebastien was unconscious in minutes, his head dangling off the other side of the couch. Not the best place to sleep, but he was too exhausted to move from his place.

#lnd open #somewhat accurate gif?

Jealous. He had a good job. Something, he had gone to years of school for. She wished she could go back to school. Get her Masters. Then a PhD. Fat chance of that ever happening, and even if it did she still wouldn’t be a doctor. Well, she would with the PhD, but not a medical doctor. Archeology didn’t save lives. Didn’t matter anyway. She wasn’t an archeologist, despite her measly bachelor’s degree. “I’m a secretary at Gold & Monroe law firm. I just started.” she explains, walking out from behind the counter since there was nothing there that had caught her interest.

His words gives her pause and she glances behind her at the bar. “Oh, I wasn’t going to drink.” she says stupidly. “I mean, I don’t usually drink at home. I’m not like a barfly or anything, I just, I don’t know.” Cassie shuts up. She is amazed she’s able to have normal conversations ever. She didn’t drink at the apartment in Brooklyn because of Charlie. She probably wouldn’t have a drink unless she bought something and had it in her room. “I’m new to the area, so I don’t even know where the bars are. Just in case you thought that I spend a lot of time in them or something. I don’t.” she says, walking past him to stand by the stairs. The couch looked comfortable, but by standing she provided herself with a quick getaway should she embarrass herself any further than she already had. “You should probably just ignore ninety-nine percent of everything that comes out of my mouth.” she says with a little laugh.

Sebastien nods, though he hasn't ever heard of the firm. It was to be expected, he supposes. He'd never visited New York before. He barely knew how to get to the hospital, and his trip to the grocery store had gotten him hopelessly lost. Perhaps the woman that had lived here longer than any of the others could help him out with that. He smiles at her fumbling explanation. He doesn't think any less of her for drinking. Hell, he did it sometimes too, in copious amounts when he was sure no one would page him for an emergency surgery.

He follows her as she goes to stand over by the stairs. He probably should be a bit less imposing. His size and first impression certainly hadn't helped with that. The only thing left to do was to correct her perception of him, if that was even possible. "You should do the same with me. I tend to say shit... Well, that's about it. I tend to say shit." He offers her a bright grin, showing off almost each and every one of his teeth.

#cassandramacleod

Cassie watches him glance back towards the dungeon and wonders if he’s just as creeped out by it as she it. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy to get rattled easily, but that might just because he was bigger than her. When he speaks she nods in agreement. It was a nice house, all things considered. “So you’re a doctor?” she asks, trying to be friendly meanwhile he mind whirred to life with questions. If he was a doctor why was he living with a bunch of strangers? Bankrupt from a malpractice suit? Lost everything in a messy divorce?

None of her business she reminds herself. Hopping off the stool she walks behind the bar, curious if they had anything worthwhile. Maybe a bottled water. Cassie really didn’t drink much, except if she went out. She’d been too busy looking after Charlie and his partying ways to bother cultivating any of her own.

Sebastien nods once. She's probably wondering why he's living in a place with several other roommates when he could potentially be living in a small townhouse in the city. He couldn't really answer her if she asked. Something had lured him to this house, and after so many years of living on his own, some company would be nice. "Yeah. I work at Lincoln Hospital." He explains, wondering if that changed how she perceived him. He was always a little bit self-conscious of his career choice.

"What do you do?" He asks, moving over to sit on the couch, his long legs looking slightly silly with his position. Sebastien eyes her as she walks over to the bar. "I'd say drinks are bad for you, but then I'd just be a hypocrite." He observes as she walks behind the counter.

#cassandramacleod

reinette-dartois

Plug it in, plug it in.

reinette-dartois

Emily swings the plug above her head wildly at the question, her lips forming a circle like a “woo” might flee past her lips to join in with the rest of the rambunctious crowd. But there isn’t a crowd and the sound never comes. But her voice is a bit louder, to call down the stairs to the man inquiring, “Some shitty, scented commercial.”

The plug almost smacks her in the face and she pulls back to escape a collision, the wire flopping into her lap and she tries to play it off like nothing happened, like she’s maintaining some sense of dignity and decorum by brushing a curl out of her eyes, “Ya know, like ya do.”

But the man is unfamiliar to her, just like most people are and before she can stop it, the question that she blurts out sounds incredibly rude, “Who are you?”

Sebastien laughs when the plug almost hits her in the face. Just because he was obliged to 'Do no harm' didn't mean he couldn't laugh when people did it to themselves. He covered his mouth with the back of his hand, trying to feign that he hadn't seen anything.

Her bluntness has a brow raising, but at this point in his life he's used to it. Nearly four decades would reward a person with patience. So he decides to simply play it off with a joke, not that he really was that mysterious. "I think that's a pretty heavy question for someone I've just met. So complex. Maybe you should have started with my favorite color or something, it's a bit easier to answer."

He climbs the stairs to the landing where her table is and extends his hand politely. "Sebastien Roux." He says with a smile. Sebastien doesn't like adding the Dr. in front of his name. It simply made people look at him differently.

#emilybyrnes #whoops i didn't see this sorry

"Only a day or so, actually." Her eyes fell to the view beyond the glass doors. The world was large — so much bigger than her. But she held pieces of it in her hands nonetheless. There were places she’d never seen, and roads she’d never traveled. But perhaps by whatever end she did meet, those places would not be so unfamiliar. In another light, it was only Tuesday, and she had possibly centuries left to spend ensuring her hold on her surroundings.

"I haven’t even finished unpacking, but that’ll be done soon enough. There’s plenty about this place to get to know still. Neighbors included." And with that, her gaze turned back to him. Holding her hand out in a gesture all too practiced, she let her grin hold steady.

"Dale. You?"

He had brought few possessions from his previous home, sending whatever was left over to a storage unit back in California. What he had thought to pack were mostly books the size of his head and a few suits to wear to the clinic. The rest he could buy here with a few months of work. "You might want to know there's a dungeon down in the basement. It's quite homey." He grinned mischievously and brought her hand to clasp hers.

"Sebastien." It was an odd feeling, but he couldn't really place why he felt so uneasy touching her. He tried not to let his discomfort show as his smile grew slightly more forced than genuine. He unclasped their hands as soon as was polite to do so and returned to stare at the ceiling, wondering what had just happened. He shook himself out of the strange feeling and sat up, looking at her for a moment before asking a question. "So, what brings you here?" The man asked, being deliberately vague. He could mean the house or the state or even the country.

#dalerosenfield

Cassie nods. Yes. It was a pleasure to meet her. Good for him to realize that. When he lets go of her hand she takes a step back and twists her arms across her chest. Glad that was settled. Take that tall, rude, dungeon aficionado guy. “I don’t mind.” she allows. The mention of his nicknames or lack thereof has her shrugging. “I knew a guy named Sebastien. People called him Bash.” Actually, she hadn’t known him. Charlie had known him. He was the guy who cooked meth down the block and he often got into fist fights for money. That might have actually been the source of the nickname, but she’s not going to mention that. Any of it. She’s not ashamed of Charlie, or herself, but it wasn’t the kind of thing she talked about.

"Me? No. No, I just moved in the other day. Hence the exploring of the creepy, chain-y sex dungeon thing they got goin’ on over there." she says, pointing weakly towards the dungeon. "Haven’t explored much though. Between work and sleep i’ve seen the bathroom, my bedroom and now the basement. Didn’t even have time for breakfast this morning." she stops babbling. Technically she’d seen a bit more than that, but she hadn’t explored those rooms, so they didn’t count and none of it actually mattered. "Have you lived here long?" she asks, turning the question back on him casually as she leans against the edge of the bar.

Sebastien allows a small grin to overtake his features at the mention of the nickname. HIs father had always insisted on calling him by his rightful name, telling him he had a good name and shouldn't insist on cutting it down for the sake of convenience. Meanwhile, his mother simply liked pronouncing his name wrong, and after a while, he had stopped introducing himself as Sebastien, son of a French businessman and started as Sebastien, local doctor. The only difference was in the last syllable, but it made his name seem less foreign, and he thought it might make him seem more friendly.

He glances back to the dank room behind him, wondering why the hell a house would have a room created specifically for holding people prisoner. He didn't think the house was that old. Unless... But no, he couldn't believe that there was another werewolf in the house and that he or she had left this room casually unlocked so anyone could enter. "A couple of days. I had a long shift at the hospital so this is the first real look I'm getting of the house. It's nice." Not as nice as his father's, but he thinks that house fit him like an oversized shoe. It chaffed him.

#cassandramacleod

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