anothercontinuity | Red vs Blue pt 2

"I admit, my reasoning was partially self-serving." His gaze shifts back to York, eyebrow arching slightly. "While it would have been your choice, I had hoped that you would choose to stay."

Even so, he hadn't expected the...enthusiasm. York had all but leaped once Locus informed him that he wouldn't be alone, that he would stay by his side. What a pair they must have made.

"Like my one requirement for this wasn't hint enough?" He still kicks himself for that a little but- it's working out. He shrugs, eyes flicking back to Locus for a moment before returning to the sky. "I don't do 'alone' well. And you're...not an asshole. Also kind of a nerd. So."

They get on pretty well.

"I'm sorry, what?"

Alright. York's getting a look for that one. A nerd? Really? It's not enough to clip his pace, but he's obviously eyeballing him now.

"Nerd. In a good way." His smile goes as wide and innocent as he can manage. "Just. Asking about my classifications of Vampire Literature, you having read the books, that kinda stuff."

"Because I read."

He looks vaguely annoyed, but it's obvious York doesn't mean anything by it. And truthfully, it's not the worst thing he could think of him. Still.

He falls silent as they continue walking. Small talk isn't really a strenght of his, as it is.

"No, that makes you literate. Specifically reading vampire literature makes you both pragmatic and kind of adorably nerdy." He lists close enough to nudge Locus with his elbow gently. Smile, life's good.

After life? Post life? Whatever, things are good right now.

"It's not as though there were scientific documents available. Everything about our kind is mired in fiction. Sorting out the truth takes time. Research."

He gives a faintly disgruntled noise at the poke, but doesn't return it. There's an air of tolerance about him, but only just.

"Fire- bad, Sun- bad, Silver- eh. Or at least silver alloys." A beat. "Part of the hardware in my brain uses micrograms of silver. Since my brain isn't melting it's safe to say silver? In't a problem for us."

Which is good to know, honestly. "I haven't experienced any kind of psychic link with you which is probably for the best. I don't think you'd enjoy what runs through my head."

"No, but we can send impressions. Just as we can project to mortals. It has to be meant, however. I don't think it's possible to do by accident."

Which is just as well. York's not wrong. Sharing thoughts would likely be a bad idea, altogether. For both of them.

"Water hasn't proven an issue. Coffins are obviously not necessary, nor is the dirt of our homeland."

"Really?" Now that's something to play with- without breaking his stride he focuses, tries to mean it, and attempts to send locus a wave of contentment. That much is honest and pretty damn true. Hrs fed, the night's young, he's not living in a hovel.

"Yeah that's probably for the best or I'd be shit out of luck. There's a shoot to kill order on me still, I'm sure."

It comes through, a sweeping warmth that takes him by surprise, settles around his shoulders like a blanket. He blinks once, glancing back at York...

And does his best to return it. Maybe less warm, but a calm, contented stillness. It's peaceful. Grounded in a way he has not been in quite some time. Does that answer the unspoken question, he wonders?

"Not that it would accomplish much now."

Still, better not to risk violence. That's the surest way to lose cover in a hurry.

It's one thing to send a feeling- he does that back and forth with Delta all the damn time. But this? Is the first time he's sent and received this kind of stimulation from an external source and-

Like the surface of a lake, deep and serene. Like the impossible blue of the sky; vast and certain. There's a flicker of bright, crackling joy he can't help but share; proud of himself for figuring this out. For learning how to use it so quickly and, well.

Pleased that he's pleased Locus.

"Still not a fan of getting shot."

"I don't imagine anyone is."

York is pleased, Locus is pleased, everyone is pleased. A good way to conduct the evening, isn't it? He's never been a people person, never very good at gauging how to keep people happy. Attracting them initially for a meal is one thing, but maintaining that?

This is singular, unique. And he's not unhappy with the way things turned out.

"Besides. Going home would be...weird. Now. It'd have been weird before but half the fun of the place is done while the sun's out and that's not really an option anymore, is it?" And he's...okay with that. There are plenty of places to visit that are just as active and amazing at night. A beach at nightfall? Wonderful.

Note to self: investigate going to a beach sometime.

"It wouldn't be the same."

There's a small noise of acknowledgement.

"For me, that was the case long before I became this. I was already living removed from that life. The one I have now? That's the only concern I have."

"My old stomping grounds aren't drift in and leave friendly. Everyone knows everyone else- so strangers slipping in? News for everyone. Me coming home after being reported MIA for a few years? Yeah that'd...that'd end bad." out and about is so much better.

Out and about and not alone? The best.

"So...is there like an abandoned warehouse around or someplace I can try testing out my new slick vampire juiced skills?" A beat. "Preferably one I could crack a lock on to get in? I need to try my hand at an ecrypted one with this, both eyes, and Delta."

"Likely so. The industrial district of any city is a good place to practice. There's a quarry on the other end of town, actually."

Boy, does he remember it well. No one's likely touched the place in years, not after the slaughter that happened there.

"Let's swing by there, then. We got plenty of time before we need to head back to the safehouse and I wanna see how fast I am." Five years out and the need to measure his skills against an arbitrary model is somewhat dulled- but. Super vampire speed.

That's gotta be something he can swing, right? Right.

"Then let's go."

He recalls the way, and it's some ways out, but they've got time, and the night is quiet. They don't want any trace left of where they're going, so walking is the better answer. And just a quicker, longer step than normal? Will shave a good amount of time off that walk.

Long legs mean longer strides- keeping in step isn't work like it might've been when he was human. It's just a little effort, half a thought and he's fallen in line easily enough. The whole city is new to him- eyes flicking from point to point, taking it all in, making a mental map of potential escape routes in case-

Just in case. Habit.

But soon, the buildings start to grow bigger. Less populated. A winding road leads to an old, battered fence that has clearly been torn down at some point and only shoddily propped back up again, with several trespassing signs that look faded and rusted.

It's nothing at all to leap over the fence, landing smoothly on the other side before turning and gesturing for York to follow.

Vaulting over a fence, huh? He gives it a once over before deciding, fuck it, and just. Going for it. Not much of a run up but over he goes, stumbling a bit on the landing because, um. "Shit-"

He peers back. "...Normally I'd need the armor to do that."

And how he can just...go for it. And he wasn't even trying. "...holy shit."

"Give a try."

And he gestures beyond. There are rock walls, abandoned equipment, and the main building against the distant cliff wall. A veritable playground to try out his new reflexes, his speed and strength, his sense of the world around him.

"D, gimme a timer-" Verbal so Locus knows the metric but that's all the warning he gets before York is sprinting for the building at the far end and holy fucking shit-

Learning to turn on dime is gonna be a bitch, probably. He tags the wall and sprints back, using the momentum to go for a long distance jump- just to see what kind of height and velocity he can swing. It's.

More than he'd thought. The landing isn't so much a landing as a stumble and roll to a stop in a laughing heap at Locus' feet. "Oh my god. This is the best thing ever."

Watching him go is something else. He throws himself into it, and he can see the joy in him at being so unrestrained. So free. How long has it been since he let himself go for the sheer fun of it?

Not that 'fun' is something he often thinks of, but when York comes sprawling to a stop, there's no other word that comes to mind. He finds himself smirking before reaching down to offer a hand up.

"I take it you're not disappointed."

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