“ you know, people used to drink this shit poisoned. ” wood, char and smoke. a decade of waiting. and the liquid swirls in a lowball glass, catching the light. there is nothing exceptional about this specific batch, just your typical high-end office crap. the talamasca special. still, jasper savours the taste, tongue tracing each biting note as if he’s sampling blood. “ rotgut. industrial booze with a paint job. real gourmet stuff. ”
olive’s intel checked out; the boy threw himself on their doorstep as soon as the sun went down. a convincing narrative in his back pocket, too. and the vampire leans back in his chair, riveted not by this visit, but by each brazen attempt to reach his mind.
( a rattle of breaths and a drumming heart; unripe, unprepared. just a mouse caught in a trap. )
“ most of them didn’t even know what the fuck they were swallowing, and honestly? even if they did, i don’t think they would’ve cared. ” a beat. a smile. “kinda fucked up, don’t you think?” for my guy / @clairaudievt