𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐇𝐎𝐖 , 𝐇𝐄’𝐃 𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐃 𝐔𝐏 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 . The turnover into a new decade had been interesting , to say the least , but then again , it always was ; celebrating a hundred years ( 𝚂𝙸𝙻𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙻𝚈 𝙲𝚄𝚁𝚂𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝙻𝙾𝙽𝙶𝙴𝚅𝙸𝚃𝚈 ) by visiting the home base of an up and coming sex cult sure wasn’t how he’d planned to kick off the start of the sixties , but hey —— when in Rome ! Maybe he’d get an official membership , get initiated . Something light and fun . . . but maybe not . He was really just here for the free bed , drugs , and frequent orgies . Pretending to care about whatever manifesto their leader was spewing was just a side effect of his own residency .
It seemed as though nobody around them was moving immediately at the sound of the man’s request , which was shocking , but the probability of most of them being too doped up to move was high ( 𝙰𝙻𝙻 𝙿𝚄𝙽𝚂 𝙸𝙽𝚃𝙴𝙽𝙳𝙴𝙳 ) . There’s a hefty sigh that leaves his lips as he moves from his spot to pad across the room , and all the vampire can think is —— I’ve yet to have an actual conversation with this man . Maybe now’s the time .
Legs lowering into a crouch next to this allegedly phenomenal leader ( Klaus , he remembers suddenly , from the billions of times he’s heard the name being cried out ) , Jack Curtis , as he’s called now , holds the flame to the tip of the cigarette , lighting it for him for the time being . “ There y’go . . . so , uh . . . this what it’s usually like around here ? ”
Eyelids flutter to focus on the man that’s beside him, lighting the cigarette between his lips. It’s a familiar action and movement, one that they’ve done hundreds of times, at least in his mind. Initially, he’d felt that Jack’s figure had been an illusion. He was simply seeing people he wanted to see - one in particular that had caused a lingering ache in his chest. A longing for an apartment that didn’t exist yet and a life that he may never have back. He inhaled deeply and held his breathe to regain his focus and control over himself. To supress the urge to push into the man that didn’t know him and make up for lost time.
There’s a delay on his end - he’s too busy staring at the shade of his eyes, the curve and line of his jaw. His mind strayed even further for a moment and silently theorized on whether or not he smelled the same. Finally, he spoke in a exhale of smoke, “yeah.” He gracelessly rolled onto his side and sat up so that he could easily make eye contact. “I mean we do other things,” he gestures around the room with an open, empty hand. “But mostly it’s just this,” what exactly was this? Getting high, having sex with anyone he could or the nearest warm body. Not for the first time he wondered what Jack - his Jack would think of his current actions and life. “Are you thinking of staying?” He sounded too enthusiastic and mentally berated himself for it. “Only if you want to,” tactlessly added with less excitement.
He took another drag on the cigarette and held it between an index and forefinger. What had Jack done in the 60′s again? He can’t recall - another thing to feel guilty for. Had Jack ever said, or had he never asked? He frowned at the thought. “You can stay as long as you want either way,” he tried to sound welcoming - less like a clingy ex.
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