He's content with his progress. The lab has taken shape. It needs more; more equipment, more freezable blood bags. But he's got what he needs
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"Someone else," Bova replies calmly, matter-of-fact. With anyone else, there would be a tone of 'duh' involved, but he'll save it for now. Hands in the pockets of his jeans, he steps closer.
"What are you doing out here?" Not accusatory - curious.
"I'm hunting vampires." Wesker says the last two words slowly and blandly, making it clear that disbelief is welcome. "Although I could be easily distracted from that end by a bookstore or another drugstore."
There's barely a reaction, other than a slightly raised brow, at Wesker's first words. "That's an odd thing for someone to say, when Harth's all for protecting them."
Another slight shift of the brows, lifted this time, and the curl of his lips makes Bova looks-- almost pleased. "Are there books nearby?"
And, a moment later, down go the brows again. "There's nothing I can read. I don't know Old Earth."
There's something off about him, definitely. His metabolism is more rapid, and he's warmer than most humans, as if he's running a fever. That is, of course, leaving off the confidence and the unusual gliding grace.
"Hn." That surprises him. Every time Harth has bitten him so far has been allowed. He presses his lips together, annoyed.
"I have to have some sort of reason for being out here without enduring suspicion from the dregs of humanity in the apartments. My excuse? I'm driven by a need for revenge, and Harth brutally killed my friend with much rending and dripping of blood." He decides just trying to make him hungry and seeing if he reacts is pointless. "So you're with him?"
Hello. Still-annoyed Tyrant here. Wesker's eyes are narrowed behind his shades. But then he has to wonder: why is Harth collecting scientists? "Really. What's your specialty?" He approaches, head tipped back a little to catch any scent. "I take it you weren't thrilled at the idea? You seem to have adjusted."
Turning someone into something else, whether they want to be turned or not, is not a new concept for Wesker.
Wesker moves closer to the remnants of a nearby wall, pulling the hunter's charm from his pocket and dropping it on the handy shelf. The air around him blooms with the scent of fever-heat--not illness, but definitely something out of place--and a sort of faint metallic scent. He's alive, but strange. There's also the tang of cleaning fluid and machine oil.
"Harth doesn't smell so unusual to me. Something stale and ashen, perhaps, but that's faint. I'm trying to identify the scent of vampire." He's backed away slightly. Antiseptic is not kind to an already-chafed sense of smell. "What do you worry about that's live?"
Okay, that gets a reaction - eyes widen and Bova looks honestly surprised at the sudden scent, leaning toward Wesker just a little to catch and define it all. There's something... off.
He's curious.
But questions are also good and Bova is leaning back, straightening and cocking his head again. "You assume I only worry about dead things?"
Very off. Mwahahaha. Wesker stands unbothered by the counter-scrutiny, and smelling nothing like any human that's ever walked the face of this earth.
"You would't need antiseptic for a vampire. Harth assures me his bite doesn't carry illnesses because they can't survive in his system. Which raises the question: what is it for?"
Harth is fun, isn't he? He encourages the spirit of discovery by not really offering much in the way of clues!
"I'm a Tyrant." You pretty much have to be in order to say that in tones of quiet self-satisfaction. "I also happen to be a scientist. I'm intrigued by many fields; virology and biotechnology are my primary interests."
Two guesses which one.
Dark eyes turn slightly darker when Wesker looks at him and Bova sags slightly with the disappointment. "Oh. It's you."
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"I can't say I get that often." He stands with complete confidence. "And what were you expecting?"
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"What are you doing out here?" Not accusatory - curious.
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Another slight shift of the brows, lifted this time, and the curl of his lips makes Bova looks-- almost pleased. "Are there books nearby?"
And, a moment later, down go the brows again. "There's nothing I can read. I don't know Old Earth."
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"I've turned up a few; nothing of use to me. I'm looking for books on equipment maintenance. I will want a water purifier, eventually."
He walks closer, moving with the relaxed assurance of a predator. "I have to say, I have been curious as to where you were from."
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Wesker is on the Don't Eat list, don't'cha know.
"I thought there was already a purifier at the apartments. You can't use that?"
As for where Bova's from, he shrugs slightly, relaxed, calm - and not at all faking it. "Comes with the antennae, it seems."
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"Hn." That surprises him. Every time Harth has bitten him so far has been allowed. He presses his lips together, annoyed.
"I have to have some sort of reason for being out here without enduring suspicion from the dregs of humanity in the apartments. My excuse? I'm driven by a need for revenge, and Harth brutally killed my friend with much rending and dripping of blood." He decides just trying to make him hungry and seeing if he reacts is pointless. "So you're with him?"
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"I stay where he does. He gave me a lab. Which isn't exactly equal payment for how I got to be this way, trust me..."
He liked that jumpsuit.
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Turning someone into something else, whether they want to be turned or not, is not a new concept for Wesker.
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Bova's scent is-- not much, really. The slight stink of the sewers, the musk of old books, the tang of antiseptic that burns the nostrils...
"What are you looking for on me?" he asks, head tilted again. Just a curious young man, nothing to be afraid of.
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"Harth doesn't smell so unusual to me. Something stale and ashen, perhaps, but that's faint. I'm trying to identify the scent of vampire." He's backed away slightly. Antiseptic is not kind to an already-chafed sense of smell. "What do you worry about that's live?"
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He's curious.
But questions are also good and Bova is leaning back, straightening and cocking his head again. "You assume I only worry about dead things?"
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"You would't need antiseptic for a vampire. Harth assures me his bite doesn't carry illnesses because they can't survive in his system. Which raises the question: what is it for?"
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But he only blinks at Wesker once before he nods, calm, easy still. "My experiment. What are you? That's not a human scent."
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"I'm a Tyrant." You pretty much have to be in order to say that in tones of quiet self-satisfaction. "I also happen to be a scientist. I'm intrigued by many fields; virology and biotechnology are my primary interests."
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