That question isn't as easy to answer as he'd like. As with most things about him it has two answers, and they're separate and contradictory answers and both make equal sense. He picks the one from Column A.
"I don't." He points out the road they need to turn down to get to the chocolate shop. "That's why I don't have one already. It's not that I don't think I'd enjoy a pet, because I would. They're wonderful. I just..."
Wow. Why should this be so hard to say that he has to stop walking and take a minute? The answer is obvious: it hits too close to home. It hits on everything he fears, and he's not afraid of very much.
"I just don't think it's fair. People get taken away from this place all the time. To get a pet to depend on you, get used to you, rely on you... and then all of a sudden one day you're gone: I don't know. It seems so unfair."
Anita told him that was a false worry, that Lestat would take care of any animal he might adopt if the City took him away. But that's simply a mask for the real fear. There are a very small handful of people he's not so sure he could live without at this place. One of them is right here.
Underneath the umbrella, she casts a sidelong glance at him, face almost impassive. "I don't blame you."
She hesitates, looking forward again.
"I never had a pet on Mars because I had the wrong lifestyle for it." Syndicate hitmen should not have pets. The reasons why aren't really all that different from Gren's. "The closest I got--"
For a split second the words want to stick in her throat and refuse, almost selfishly, to come out. But the moment passes as quickly as it comes about.
"--was a crystal sculpture of two angelfish."
When she glances over at him again, there's a hint of humor there. "It was easy to take care of."
The look he gives her is a little bit sharp, a little bit on the appraising side. But then he smiles and the smile widens and turns into a laugh.
"Glass fish are probably pretty trouble-free. Unless you drop them." Gently, hesitantly, he rests his arm around her shoulder. Julia's the best friend he's got, the oldest friend he's got. And he needs her. He didn't know that about himself until he got here, but she was such a godsend. She took care of him while he died -- not something he'd ask of his worst enemy -- and took care of him afterward. She helped him, and she never asked for a thing in exchange.
He would have liked to know her before. Before Titan, when they were both on Mars. Before they had Vicious in common. They could have intersected at some point, somewhere. He wonders what she was like.
"The chocolate shop is just down the block. See that flag with the truffle on it?" It's not so dark here they can't make it out from here. The chocolates here are expensive, but the best ones always are and he's tired of scrimping. He wants chocolates for Julia now and chocolates for himself for later and he'll figure out a way to make it work.
"All they need is a little dusting every now and then."
And, as he said, a careful hand when you move them around.
That sculpture is definitely one of the material things she's had that she misses the most.
Looking ahead, she sees the flag in question, and she nods. She's been this way a few times before, but she's definitely never stopped by the chocolate shop. When they get close enough, she can smell it.
Stopping again, he breathes in deeply. The smell of chocolate permeates the air and the rain adds to the whole effect with its ozone and cleanness and... "What I wouldn't have given for a place like this in Blue Crow. It would have taken me twice as long to save for a piano, because I would have spent everything on chocolate and gotten fat and lazy. Come on, let's go in."
Reaching for her hand, he opens the door but he can't be quite so quick about it: the umbrella has to be put down first. But once that's happened they're in and through the door and he feels like a kid again.
"Just smell the air in here: it's unbelievable." It's heavy with sugar and sweetness and a mix of every different kind of chocolate; he feels like that kid in the story who won the gold ticket. "Oh, Julia. I could spend everything I have in this place and I'd be so happy."
He's awfully emotional tonight and he knows it, and it surprises him just a little bit. Maybe it's because he's come home a few nights to find Lestat waiting for him. Or maybe it's because the remodeling Lestat's doing is coming along and he sees exactly what that apartment is becoming, and he likes it a lot. Or maybe it's not for either of those reasons: maybe it's because it's almost Halloween and that's a big night, spiritually speaking.
Or maybe it's just this place. Whatever it is, he's so glad to be here with her.
She can't help but smell the air in here, and he's right: the smell of chocolate is so thick in the air that you can almost taste it without even buying anything.
With a glance at him, she smiles slightly. "I didn't realize what a sucker you are for chocolate."
She can't really remember the last time she was in a chocolate shop like this one. Her eyes are drawn to the rows and rows of chocolates under glass casing. There are truffles with fruity creme-fillings and some topped with dark chocolate shavings and more rolled in crushed almonds.
And truffles are hardly where it stops. In the corner, she spies chocolate-covered cherries that practically have her name on them.
"I'm not. It's just this place. It smells like everything good from childhood." He's been told more than once he's got a weird outlook on things but he can't help it, really. He's wired that way.
There are chocolate flowers and chocolate animals and chocolate goddesses and chocolate sculptures. Chocolate money, chocolate popcorn, chocolate potato chips, chocolate peppermints, hot chocolate mix, baking chocolate: everything.
Chocolate-coated oranges: now there's something he hasn't had in forever, and Julia's also found the chocolate-dipped fruits, and for a measure of healthy those are probably the healthiest items in the store. He reminds himself he's dead and probably won't have to worry about cholesterol or fat or any of that stuff and ought to just go for it, and he wonders how many different varieties of chocolate he can share with Julia. How much can they buy? How much will be left over? How decadent can something possibly get?
"Wow. It all looks so good. I want one of everything." Hastily, he waves off the salesgirl. "But that would be silly. It's hard to be smart about something that looks so sinful and smells like heaven."
The idea puts a small smile on her face. Like everything good from childhood seems like a tall order to fill, but she can appreciate the sentiment.
"We'll just have to make multiple trips here in the future."
If he wants one of everything, the only thing silly about it is trying to get it all in one night.
"I'm going to start with the cherries." They've been her favorite fruit as long as she can remember, and both the ones smothered in dark chocolate and the ones in milk chocolate look equally good to her. "What are you going for first?"
It's an instant answer and he hasn't even thought about it: they're just the first thing that catches his eye after her question and he can't resist them. Chocolate-covered toffee, rolled in crushed almonds: it's like sin on a plate.
Who could resist?
"I'll start there, and then move on to the chocolate pretzels. I'm a sucker for the sweet-and-salty combination." He nods toward the salesgirl.
She hasn't spent a lot of the wages she's earned in the time she's been here. The little splurging she's done has mostly been on a few nice dinners and her wardrobe, which... was nothing more than the bloody clothes on her back when she first got here. Her apartment has nothing but the furniture that came with it, and the only actual appliance she's bought that it didn't have originally was a coffeemaker.
The walls are as bare as they were when she moved in. The curtains are the same. The bedspread is the same. The pillows on her couch are the same.
She doesn't mind spending. She just hasn't been able to break out of the habit of living as though she'll have to uproot at any time.
She knows it.
The salesgirl carefully rings up and bags her purchases: a box of chocolate-covered cherries, several of the gourmet chocolate pretzels, some mocha creme truffles, a pouch of hot chocolate mix, and a single solid dark chocolate rose.
"I'll wait patiently," she teases Gren as she steps aside, her bag in hand, for him.
Oh good, Julia's gone above and beyond the call of duty. For a while he thought she was going to stop with the chocolate cherries and he's glad to see she hasn't. Everyone needs chocolate: it makes them feel better. Personally he can't wait to share it in a way he's never shared tastes with anyone before: sometimes he thinks Lestat must miss so much, although he seems to have it in perspective and doesn't let it bother him.
For his money, he'd be terribly bothered. He's a sensualist: he's keyed in to the way things taste and sound and look and feel and smell and that's just one set of reasons why he doesn't want to be a vampire even if he could. He's not willing to give up on being human just for immortality.
(Just.)
But it's his turn now and he gets his almond-rolled toffees and some dark chocolate mints and the caramel-drizzled chocolate pretzels and some of the chocolate-dipped oranges.
And lemon-filled truffles: Lestat seemed to like the taste of lemon and said he'd try it if he ever got the chance, and he can give him the opportunity. It might be small and it might be fleeting, but he'll do it.
Now he's got a bag in hand too, and significantly fewer coins in his pocket and a very smug grin on his face.
"All right. Thank you for your patience. Please fasten your seat belts and enjoy the flight."
(The last time he took a shuttle trip like that, he was on his way home from Titan. It's good to be able to joke about it again.)
Having watched idly as he picked out his chocolates, she can't help but think she might have to ask to try one of the chocolate mints at some point.
He couldn't possibly eat them all overnight.
"I hope the in-flight movie is good."
Interplanetary shuttles are something she's very familiar with.
Their shoulders bump companionably as they leave the store, and although the rain has slowed, there's still enough of it to warrant opening her umbrella again. "Should I escort you home, or are you going elsewhere?"
"Just to Building 8. But I'm happy to see you safely home first if you want."
She doesn't need his help and he's well aware of that. But Julia is his best friend and he'll do anything for her. He'll even keep other people waiting, either with or without their permission. Nobody owns him; he's nobody's child or pet. But he is a fairly decent person with a great capacity for love and affection.
And Julia's one of the people he loves and for that, he feels so lucky, and what she wants comes first.
Building 8 is a little bit out of the way but not much.
"I could just as easily see you safely to building 8."
She's been shot in the arm, knifed in the side, hunted, killed. He was trained to be a soldier, and she was trained to kill.
If he lived in building 8 himself and wanted to walk her home, she'd probably let him just for the sake of friendship. But under these circumstances, it's... not what she needs. And not what she wants.
"Why don't we just split up in a couple of blocks?"
"Fair enough." His protective side wants to walk her home but he won't push it. Instead, he opens up his bag of chocolates and offers it to her. "You want to try any of these? Now's the time."
This has been fun. He always likes spending time with her and sure, he's been busy lately. They all have. Life -- or whatever this is -- goes on, no matter where they are. Side by side in the light rain, the smell of chocolate drifts up from the bag and hovers under the open umbrella.
He doesn't need to ask her if she's doing okay to know she's still preoccupied: she's lost most of the people who've meant anything to her at this place. He's lucky -- he's got somebody new and that made some of the disappearances sting less -- but he's a fatalist. An optimist, but a fatalist at heart, and he doesn't expect this to last. He'll go or Lestat will go or Julia will go or Lin or Machi or Abby will go and there won't be anything anyone can do about it.
Until that day, though, he'll cherish every minute they have together.
Peeking into his bag, she takes a second to hook her own bag on a finger of the hand holding her umbrella and then reaches in to open one of the small boxes inside and help herself to one of his chocolate mints.
"Thanks." She smiles slightly. "I'd make the same offer, but I think you should just use this as an excuse to drop by one day."
She wouldn't say it to just anyone; she's gotten used to holding most people at arm's length.
"I don't." He points out the road they need to turn down to get to the chocolate shop. "That's why I don't have one already. It's not that I don't think I'd enjoy a pet, because I would. They're wonderful. I just..."
Wow. Why should this be so hard to say that he has to stop walking and take a minute? The answer is obvious: it hits too close to home. It hits on everything he fears, and he's not afraid of very much.
"I just don't think it's fair. People get taken away from this place all the time. To get a pet to depend on you, get used to you, rely on you... and then all of a sudden one day you're gone: I don't know. It seems so unfair."
Anita told him that was a false worry, that Lestat would take care of any animal he might adopt if the City took him away. But that's simply a mask for the real fear. There are a very small handful of people he's not so sure he could live without at this place. One of them is right here.
Another one of them is waiting for him at home.
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She hesitates, looking forward again.
"I never had a pet on Mars because I had the wrong lifestyle for it." Syndicate hitmen should not have pets. The reasons why aren't really all that different from Gren's. "The closest I got--"
For a split second the words want to stick in her throat and refuse, almost selfishly, to come out. But the moment passes as quickly as it comes about.
"--was a crystal sculpture of two angelfish."
When she glances over at him again, there's a hint of humor there. "It was easy to take care of."
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"Glass fish are probably pretty trouble-free. Unless you drop them." Gently, hesitantly, he rests his arm around her shoulder. Julia's the best friend he's got, the oldest friend he's got. And he needs her. He didn't know that about himself until he got here, but she was such a godsend. She took care of him while he died -- not something he'd ask of his worst enemy -- and took care of him afterward. She helped him, and she never asked for a thing in exchange.
He would have liked to know her before. Before Titan, when they were both on Mars. Before they had Vicious in common. They could have intersected at some point, somewhere. He wonders what she was like.
"The chocolate shop is just down the block. See that flag with the truffle on it?" It's not so dark here they can't make it out from here. The chocolates here are expensive, but the best ones always are and he's tired of scrimping. He wants chocolates for Julia now and chocolates for himself for later and he'll figure out a way to make it work.
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And, as he said, a careful hand when you move them around.
That sculpture is definitely one of the material things she's had that she misses the most.
Looking ahead, she sees the flag in question, and she nods. She's been this way a few times before, but she's definitely never stopped by the chocolate shop. When they get close enough, she can smell it.
"I already see why you like this place."
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Reaching for her hand, he opens the door but he can't be quite so quick about it: the umbrella has to be put down first. But once that's happened they're in and through the door and he feels like a kid again.
"Just smell the air in here: it's unbelievable." It's heavy with sugar and sweetness and a mix of every different kind of chocolate; he feels like that kid in the story who won the gold ticket. "Oh, Julia. I could spend everything I have in this place and I'd be so happy."
He's awfully emotional tonight and he knows it, and it surprises him just a little bit. Maybe it's because he's come home a few nights to find Lestat waiting for him. Or maybe it's because the remodeling Lestat's doing is coming along and he sees exactly what that apartment is becoming, and he likes it a lot. Or maybe it's not for either of those reasons: maybe it's because it's almost Halloween and that's a big night, spiritually speaking.
Or maybe it's just this place. Whatever it is, he's so glad to be here with her.
"Where do we even start?"
The answer, apparently, lies with truffles.
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With a glance at him, she smiles slightly. "I didn't realize what a sucker you are for chocolate."
She can't really remember the last time she was in a chocolate shop like this one. Her eyes are drawn to the rows and rows of chocolates under glass casing. There are truffles with fruity creme-fillings and some topped with dark chocolate shavings and more rolled in crushed almonds.
And truffles are hardly where it stops. In the corner, she spies chocolate-covered cherries that practically have her name on them.
Reply
There are chocolate flowers and chocolate animals and chocolate goddesses and chocolate sculptures. Chocolate money, chocolate popcorn, chocolate potato chips, chocolate peppermints, hot chocolate mix, baking chocolate: everything.
Chocolate-coated oranges: now there's something he hasn't had in forever, and Julia's also found the chocolate-dipped fruits, and for a measure of healthy those are probably the healthiest items in the store. He reminds himself he's dead and probably won't have to worry about cholesterol or fat or any of that stuff and ought to just go for it, and he wonders how many different varieties of chocolate he can share with Julia. How much can they buy? How much will be left over? How decadent can something possibly get?
"Wow. It all looks so good. I want one of everything." Hastily, he waves off the salesgirl. "But that would be silly. It's hard to be smart about something that looks so sinful and smells like heaven."
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"We'll just have to make multiple trips here in the future."
If he wants one of everything, the only thing silly about it is trying to get it all in one night.
"I'm going to start with the cherries." They've been her favorite fruit as long as she can remember, and both the ones smothered in dark chocolate and the ones in milk chocolate look equally good to her. "What are you going for first?"
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It's an instant answer and he hasn't even thought about it: they're just the first thing that catches his eye after her question and he can't resist them. Chocolate-covered toffee, rolled in crushed almonds: it's like sin on a plate.
Who could resist?
"I'll start there, and then move on to the chocolate pretzels. I'm a sucker for the sweet-and-salty combination." He nods toward the salesgirl.
"Ladies first." Always, always, always.
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The walls are as bare as they were when she moved in. The curtains are the same. The bedspread is the same. The pillows on her couch are the same.
She doesn't mind spending. She just hasn't been able to break out of the habit of living as though she'll have to uproot at any time.
She knows it.
The salesgirl carefully rings up and bags her purchases: a box of chocolate-covered cherries, several of the gourmet chocolate pretzels, some mocha creme truffles, a pouch of hot chocolate mix, and a single solid dark chocolate rose.
"I'll wait patiently," she teases Gren as she steps aside, her bag in hand, for him.
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For his money, he'd be terribly bothered. He's a sensualist: he's keyed in to the way things taste and sound and look and feel and smell and that's just one set of reasons why he doesn't want to be a vampire even if he could. He's not willing to give up on being human just for immortality.
(Just.)
But it's his turn now and he gets his almond-rolled toffees and some dark chocolate mints and the caramel-drizzled chocolate pretzels and some of the chocolate-dipped oranges.
And lemon-filled truffles: Lestat seemed to like the taste of lemon and said he'd try it if he ever got the chance, and he can give him the opportunity. It might be small and it might be fleeting, but he'll do it.
Now he's got a bag in hand too, and significantly fewer coins in his pocket and a very smug grin on his face.
"All right. Thank you for your patience. Please fasten your seat belts and enjoy the flight."
(The last time he took a shuttle trip like that, he was on his way home from Titan. It's good to be able to joke about it again.)
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He couldn't possibly eat them all overnight.
"I hope the in-flight movie is good."
Interplanetary shuttles are something she's very familiar with.
Their shoulders bump companionably as they leave the store, and although the rain has slowed, there's still enough of it to warrant opening her umbrella again. "Should I escort you home, or are you going elsewhere?"
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She doesn't need his help and he's well aware of that. But Julia is his best friend and he'll do anything for her. He'll even keep other people waiting, either with or without their permission. Nobody owns him; he's nobody's child or pet. But he is a fairly decent person with a great capacity for love and affection.
And Julia's one of the people he loves and for that, he feels so lucky, and what she wants comes first.
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"I could just as easily see you safely to building 8."
She's been shot in the arm, knifed in the side, hunted, killed. He was trained to be a soldier, and she was trained to kill.
If he lived in building 8 himself and wanted to walk her home, she'd probably let him just for the sake of friendship. But under these circumstances, it's... not what she needs. And not what she wants.
"Why don't we just split up in a couple of blocks?"
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This has been fun. He always likes spending time with her and sure, he's been busy lately. They all have. Life -- or whatever this is -- goes on, no matter where they are. Side by side in the light rain, the smell of chocolate drifts up from the bag and hovers under the open umbrella.
He doesn't need to ask her if she's doing okay to know she's still preoccupied: she's lost most of the people who've meant anything to her at this place. He's lucky -- he's got somebody new and that made some of the disappearances sting less -- but he's a fatalist. An optimist, but a fatalist at heart, and he doesn't expect this to last. He'll go or Lestat will go or Julia will go or Lin or Machi or Abby will go and there won't be anything anyone can do about it.
Until that day, though, he'll cherish every minute they have together.
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"Thanks." She smiles slightly. "I'd make the same offer, but I think you should just use this as an excuse to drop by one day."
She wouldn't say it to just anyone; she's gotten used to holding most people at arm's length.
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