Franklin was still feeling the effects of that fairy blood Tony had so generously gifted him. He was smiling and happier than usual (though that may also have something to do with the post-celebratory sex with Tony on Christmas night). He'd showered several times just to get the smell of the wizard off his skin. He hadn't drank all of the fairy blood. Most he saved for another time, but some he put into a vial. It was like bringing a keg to a college party, only the 'keg' in question was a thousand times more potent. The only thing he knew of that could get a vampire high/drunk.
"If the game's strip poker," Franklin said as he sat down. He would've appeared in his usual speedy-blurry fashion. "Then I think I'll need more clothes." A simple wardrobe of black, plus the intricately-designed cowboy boots, was all he had.
Don't think Severen didn't notice Franklin's good mood. Severen chuckled, patting the shoulder of Franklin all friendly-like.
"If that's a bluff to your poker skills, it's sure a fuckin' queer way of goin' about it." He pushed his shoulder before sitting back in his chair, pulling the cards out of his pocket and shuffling them idle. He squirmed in the seat as he did, the two bullet wounds he sustained not entirely healed. Severen coughed and beat his chest once before getting back to the shuffling.
"So, you look like the kind of man who got a little bit of extra Christmas cheer. Who was the lucky son of a bitch who got a taste of Mott cock?"
Franklin glanced over at the coughing, but said nothing. Severen would tell him what happened, or he wouldn't, and play the macho 'I'm totally fine' card.
The question made him smile like the cat who swallowed the canary. And there had been swallowing going on, among other things. "I don't know if his mum's a bitch or not, but the son in question was Tony Foster. Not something I normally do, I'll have you know." He felt the need to point out that he wasn't gay on a usual basis. "You ever hear of fairy blood in whatever backwoods bar you called home?"
Severen couldn't help but throw Franklin a somewhat scrupulous look after this SHOCKING CONFESSION of the Vampire's homoerotic trist. Talking about gay love and fairies... might as well start wearing the lacy underwear now.
"Well," He grimaced, "I'm gonna need some help for this conversation." Severen smiled, and threw the cards onto the table. Reaching over with a grunt, he popped open the half-full bottle of gin and poured a hefty amount of blood in to mix. He gulped a mouthful down and exhaled.
Franklin cringed at the intake of alcohol. So undignified. So human. Even before becoming a vampire he'd detested the drink and all its effects. It was poison, pure and simple.
That's not to say he didn't enjoy the effects it had on the mortals when he was out for a quick bite. Easy prey.
"It's the best thing you've never tasted." He produced a tiny vial from his sleeve, let it roll into his palm, and held this out to Severen. "Though I'm not sure you deserve it after drinking that."
"I heard you say that before." He took the little vial with swagger, not knowing or caring of its potency or value or how fragile the glass may have been in his careless hands. "An' what the fuck's wrong with my liquor? It ain't bourbon but it's just as nice."
Franklin shrugged. "So I repeat myself. No worse than you, pardner." He mimicked Severen's accent surprisingly well. "Did I say anything was wrong with it? No. Enjoy your cheap liquor. I'm sure it'll serve you quite well."
Franklin catches it and tucks it away. "Not fairy piss, thank you, and yes. It does. Drunk, high, call a spade a spade. Better than other things." If he could look down his nose any more at Severen's choice of drink, he'd need to stand. "What's the game?" a nod toward the cards.
"If the game's strip poker," Franklin said as he sat down. He would've appeared in his usual speedy-blurry fashion. "Then I think I'll need more clothes." A simple wardrobe of black, plus the intricately-designed cowboy boots, was all he had.
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"If that's a bluff to your poker skills, it's sure a fuckin' queer way of goin' about it." He pushed his shoulder before sitting back in his chair, pulling the cards out of his pocket and shuffling them idle. He squirmed in the seat as he did, the two bullet wounds he sustained not entirely healed. Severen coughed and beat his chest once before getting back to the shuffling.
"So, you look like the kind of man who got a little bit of extra Christmas cheer. Who was the lucky son of a bitch who got a taste of Mott cock?"
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The question made him smile like the cat who swallowed the canary. And there had been swallowing going on, among other things. "I don't know if his mum's a bitch or not, but the son in question was Tony Foster. Not something I normally do, I'll have you know." He felt the need to point out that he wasn't gay on a usual basis. "You ever hear of fairy blood in whatever backwoods bar you called home?"
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"Well," He grimaced, "I'm gonna need some help for this conversation." Severen smiled, and threw the cards onto the table. Reaching over with a grunt, he popped open the half-full bottle of gin and poured a hefty amount of blood in to mix. He gulped a mouthful down and exhaled.
"Fairy blood eh? What the fuck is that?"
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That's not to say he didn't enjoy the effects it had on the mortals when he was out for a quick bite. Easy prey.
"It's the best thing you've never tasted." He produced a tiny vial from his sleeve, let it roll into his palm, and held this out to Severen. "Though I'm not sure you deserve it after drinking that."
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