just_muse_me | 30.3. Accent
Co-written with gr8muppetyodin
[Follows THIS]
Blaise could barely even look at Juliette as she left the ornate hotel room with the petite redheaded Scottish girl. There was a hungry desperation starting to electrify through him and he knew there was going to be no easing it until he fed. He didn't even know why his conscience suddenly got the better of him with the young woman, but to hear that despite having tasted true love, she was still very much enamoured with her beau and Blaise knew if he fed off her, it would change her life. Most recovered from it, living with just the memory that somehow got them into some sort of accident that landed them in hospital with blood loss. But this woman was alone, her lover hundreds of miles away in England. Blaise just couldn't, and it was probably something he would never be able to explain. Sometimes, his beliefs just got the better of him, but they never fought the hunger. In fact, it often just made it worse, and he was angry at Juliette by default.
He didn't remain and wait for her. They could have gotten into a furious argument if he had, and the hotel would get suspicious. When he was feeling like this, bordering on a desperate blood lust, Blaise couldn't control himself. Juliette had taken the brunt of it many times in the past, and she was usually able to placate him with her own blood and passionate sex. Not when he was directly angry at her, though. The streets of Edinburgh were dark and chilled, even for a summer's night. It took a lot longer for Scotland to get dark in the summer, often the dusk not coming until ten or eleven at night. But it was not the early hours of the morning, and the streets were only bathed in light from the street lamps. It wasn't a weekend, so there were no boistrous crowd out singing drunkenly in the streets. The city had a strange stillness about it, but everyone knew things lurked in the shadows and never really rested.
Blaise drew back from the young man lying unconscious beneath him, licking the blood from his lips as he glanced up at the sky. It was clear, not a full moon, but plenty of stars. He was breathless from the feed, and took a moment to stay stooped over the man to gather himself as the hunger eased off to a satiated warmth that crept back into his skin and tinged his cheeks with a hint of a lively pink hue. Feeding could make Kindred feel almost alive again. The man had been a pianist in a small boutique hotel on the Old Mile, walking home from his night at work. Blaise had just pounced, from where he had been waiting in the darkness beneath the trees in Princes Street Gardens. The guy didn't even have time to make a sound before Blaise fed from him to unconsciousness. Blaise had sensed the the man's romantic feelings from long off and had stalked him the length of the gardens along Princes Street. Now it was done, and Blaise began to feel normal again. He licked at the two puncture wounds on the man's throat, lapping up the lingering blood and the wound healing over instantly. Blaise's eyes shifted from the intense silver back to blue as his gloved hand reached into the pocket of the man's leather jacket and pulled out his mobile phone. Calmly, Blaise placed a 999 emergency call to an ambulance, giving the location. He ended the call before giving his name and dropped the phone back at the man's side as he rose and was exiting the dark gardens in the middle of the city in moments.
He bounded up the stairs, giving a brief glance over his clothing to make sure there was no blood spatters or drops. Spotting a small splash of deep scarlet on his lapel, he took a linen handkerchief from his pocket and wiped it off before it was plunged back into the depths of his jacket out of sight and cool blue eyes looked up and down the street for anything that seemed out of the ordinary. He could smell the nightlife and he watched as black cab made its way slowly along the otherwise deserted street. Now he could return to the hotel without any risk of creating a scene.
Buffy twirled the stake in her hand and hummed to herself under her breath. At least it wasn't pouring with rain tonight, and the streets really were quiet. Things could have been worse. She could have been stuck in the castle with the Slayerettes. She realised how stupid it was that she had done nothing but bemoan the fact she had been the lone Slayer back in the beginning, and then Kendra, followed by Faith had come along and things had been easier - she could have thought about retiring. And she'd never really been alone. She'd always had Giles, Xander and Willow. Even others had come and gone over the years. There was Dawn as well, but Buffy would be lying if she didn't admit to the fact that her sister being away in Italy with Andrew was a relief.
The Slayerettes though, they weren't as easy to get rid of. They still needed tracking down and accounting for, training and an introduction to their lives as Slayers. It was a broken rule she had no way of fixing.
And all Buffy wanted was her old life back. Even if it wasn't in Sunnydale she just wanted to be her again. In a strange way the mysterious Elmo had given her a taste of it, and now she wanted more. Xander seemed to realise Buffy needed a little time to just be herself and wasn't bothering her with any Slayerette news. He did keep messaging her with his disapproval of the kilted hottie and the fact that she was once again getting more action than him. All Buffy could do was apologise and assure him that it was probably a once off. Even if she wouldn't have minded a second off, or a third off.
She cocked her head as something had her Slayer senses tingling, and for reasons best known to herself she tucked the stake up in her sleeve to stop Mr Pointy from being seen. There was something in the air, like a slight change that made her feel like she should know what it meant. Like something was tickling the back of her mind but not quite making itself known. She hated when that happened. She was still trying to figure out what was wrong when she turned around and walked straight into a wall of black. She blinked and then looked up to find intense blue eyes staring down at her. "Whoa."
Blaise had put his hands out, grabbing the woman lightly by the upper arms to stop her from falling, but as soon as she met his eyes, he released his grip but made no attempt to step out of her personal space. She had invaded his, afterall. He looked at her silently for a few moments, that post-feeding contentment and strength bubbling through him. It was like what he remembered the post-orgasmic haze to feel like when he was still mortal, only take that and multiply it by about a hundred. He flashed her a hint of a smirk at her comment. "Bonsoir, mon cherie... what is a belle like you doing hanging around in a place like this so late at night?" he asked her smoothly, tilting his head just a little as his eyes remained locked on hers.
Buffy never thought of herself as a typical blonde bimbo and usually she could ramble with the best of them, but moments like these - men like this one - managed to render her speechless. She just stood there trying to fight through the sudden void in her mind and then the French registered and Buffy was a lost cause. "Hm?" She blinked once, then again as she held his gaze. "You're French. Like, French-French. Proper French. I sucked at French. You should know that. I struggled to get good grades, but it wasn't from lack of trying. I'm sorry. If it helps my English is just as questionable. Ask Giles."
Blaised merely watched her, bemused as she rambled and waited for her to finish. He had lost track of the amount of people who told him they studied French in school when they knew he was born in the country. Not that they would ever know the half of that. He wet his lips briefly and then started to slowly pull his hand from his black silk glove and held his hand out to her, his ring finger adorned in a thick gold-crested ring with a ruby. "Blaise Richelieu," he introduced himself with a small nod. "C'est un plaisir de vous recontrer, cherie... It's a pleasure to meet you," he translated a moment later in English with a hint of a smile.
Buffy gave him a relieved smile at the translation. If she had been left to figure it out herself she could only imagine what she might have assumed he'd said. "Enchante," she replied and resisted the urge to curtsy. The ring was impressive to say the least, but she couldn't keep her eyes off his for very long. "Buffy Summers. It's a pleasure to meet you too, Blaise. Monsieur Richelieu. I'm sorry about... the walking into you thing. And the rambling thing. I do it a lot. You should know that."
Blaise raised an eyebrow at her, unable to help wondering if the rambling was incessant and annoying. He usually didn't bother his time with it, and tuned people out who attempt it. But then, he had lived a very, very long time. His patience could wane easier than most. He looked down at her hand, and then turned hers over to dip his head and softly kiss the back of it. No urge to feed came at all as his lips touched her skin and he resisted the urge to sigh. They really did seem to be few and far between lately. He kept a hold of her hand, his grip tightening as he rose and locked her gaze again. "Dangereux, chaton..." he purred, the smirk back. "You are very, very trusting of strangers."
Buffy caught her lip to try and slow the rambling. Mostly it was a nervous thing. Monsters she could handle, but boys? There was no way she was ever going to be smooth with them. Spike had been easy because she'd spent so much time just hating him. And Angel? Well, Angel was just a constant after a while. He was her first love. If she couldn't be at ease with him, then she really did have issues. "Maybe that's just because I know how to take care of myself. Don't always judge a book by it's cover. Or a woman by her size."
"En effet," Blaise agreed quietly, but he made no move to release her hand still. She had said enough to ring warning bells in his head. For her size and indeed age, she was far too cocky and now he was watching her even more closely and more analyitcally. A young woman out alone in a darkened city in the very early hours of the morning... it made no sense. She wasn't Kindred, he would smell it. In fact, she wasn't a vampire of any bloodline. But he let go of her hand and pulled on his glove once again. "Here's hoping nothing nasty befowls you, cherie. Even the cockiest of people can still... find themselves in danger."
"Don't I know it," Buffy murmured as her expression shifted to something akin to sadness. She knew better than anyone that cockiness didn't get you everywhere. She looked down to find her hand no longer in his and pouted just a little at the loss of contact before she flexed her fingers and then tucked her hands into the pockets of her jacket. "Thanks for the concern, handsome. Personally I'm just grateful you were the dark and mysterious I ran into and nothing someth--someone else. Makes me wonder what you're doing out in the streets alone, though. That ring speaks a lot about status. I would have thought you might have servants to take a stroll in the dark for you."
Blaise glanced up the street. "How do you know I don't, chaton? Just because you can't see something, does not mean you should assume it's not there. All cities have eyes and ears, stories to tell, and Edinburgh is one of our oldest storytellers." Sirens could be heard in the distance and a moment later an ambulance came screaming around the corner and sped up the street to stop at the other end of the block. Blaise watched the scene quietly, satisfied that his prey would get the medical assistance needed. He could still taste the blood on his lips.
Buffy frowned at seeing the ambulance and took a step away from Blaise briefly as she tried to work out if it was something she should concern herself with. The Scottish hunter had mentioned vampires that covered their tracks well, and Buffy wondered if chasing ambulances was really going to give her anything other than stalker charges. She glanced back at Blaise and blushed just a little when she realised she was probably acting weird. "Ninja servants, huh? Does that mean I might have to be comfortable with being watched?"
Blaise raised his eyebrows slightly with another amused smirk, but he didn't answer her question, nor did he have any intentions of doing so. She could wonder about the answers herself. It would never do anyone any harm to assume they were being watched. Mortals were watched more than they realised... only he, more than most, would never make any assumptions that someone was mortal. Looks could very much be deceiving. He could sense the blood pumping through her veins, though, and he felt her pulse when he had her hand. Still no urge to taste her, though. "There is a small piano bar a mere block from here, stays open all night. Would you accompany me for a drink, cherie?" he asked her, his curiosity piqued at least for the moment.
Buffy reached up to tuck some of her hair behind her ear as she gave him a smile. "Sure, I'd love to. Piano bars are... not really my scene, but there's always a first time. Can't deny I'm a little curious about Edinburgh's nightlife. At least beyond certain parts of it. I haven't really had much of a chance to party. Or drink. And just please, please make sure the drink isn't beer." She reached out to tuck her hand into the crook of his elbow as she moved to his side. Right then she wasn't even thinking about the fact that Blaise might have his own secrets, too concerned with making sure her own stayed under wraps. Spending more time with the Frenchman was hard to say no to, though. "You always ask strange girls to join you at piano bars, Blaise?"
Blaise started heading in the direction of the bar, his expensive leather shoes clicking softly on the sidewalk before he stepped out onto the cobbles of the next street as they rounded the corner. "Do you not think you should be more concerned if I asked you to a less than public outlet, mon cherie? You will not find much nightlife at this hour on a weekday. Edinburgh sleeps. The weekends, much more colourful and alive." In the distance, he could see the Caledonian Hotel looming above the gardens, and he couldn't help but wonder if Juliette had returned there after delivering Bonnie back to safety. Of course, there was always a chance that even though Blaise did not want to feed from the girl, that Juliette wouldn't have proceeded to do so herself. Juliette's tastes were a lot more varied than Blaise's ever had. In fact, he suspected Juliette would be more than intrigued to savour Buffy, given the chance. Blaise, on the other hand, knew he wouldn't stomach it.
"Pretty sure it's the ones that ask me to public places that freak me out more. Tells you what sort of guys I like, huh? So, again, if Edinburgh doesn't have much of a nightlife at this time of the night, what exactly are you doing out? Is this place your home, or are you here on business? Maybe you're coming back from seeing your lady friend, but now you've picked up another one?" Buffy was starting to gear up with the questions now she wasn't so transfixed by his gaze, but that didn't mean she was moving away from his side any time soon, or letting go of his arm. He felt like he worked out.
"Then I repeat, you are very trusting. Almost too trusting, perhaps," Blaise added and glanced down at her again. "That is an extremely curious trait, belle. One would be quite tempted to take advantage of that. Paris is my home. I am here on some personal business, with a very dear friend. Would you expect me to freely tell you if I was... indulging in de coucherie?" He looked down at her again with a small wink. "Sleeping around, mon cherie," he elaborated. "And how do you know my taste does not lean towards men?"
Buffy tilted her head as she considered her ability to trust people quickly. She always thought maybe she didn't have it in her to trust so easily, but he could be right. "I'm trusting at least until I get given a reason otherwise," she murmured half to herself as she continued her line of thinking out loud. "I think that at the end of the day I still just want to believe there is good in people. It can't all be bad. That doesn't mean I don't still have issues. I'm hardly claiming the sanity card here." Buffy looked up at him and arched an eyebrow slightly as her lips twisted into a small smirk. "Depends what kind of man you are, Blaise. Some enjoy boasting about their nightly activities. Personally, I'm hoping that you wouldn't. There's too much class oozing out of you. As for the men, well, it's possible. And if you do then totally a loss for my team."
Blaise smirked and shook his head. "Oh non, cherie. I think it's because you're too confident. We do not live in a soap opera. Very few people are all good. You're trusting because you do not believe you will get hurt," he deduced. "And while most believe that is a positive trait..." He just trailed off with a mere shrug, letting her fill in the gaps herself. "Discretion is a quality more of this world should favour in themselves. It has been lost to society in this day and age in favour of young people in extremely tight and revealing clothing and far too much cockiness that could ever be attractive to someone with class. Unfortunately they do not realise this, and unfortunately, far too many get themselves into trouble because of it. I have varied tastes, chaton."
Buffy looked down at her jacket, and sweater and then at her jeans. Okay, so maybe she liked her jeans fitting, but she'd given up revealing clothing after she'd past her teen years. Then she thought about the overconfidence and wondered if he was right. Her brow was still furrowed as they walked and she turned his words over carefully in her mind. Slowly she was getting past the outright lust and actually getting involved in the conversation. "Sometimes opposites can attract though, don't you think? Varied... Oh. Oh. I need a moment while I imagine that..."
Blaise was amused to contemplate what she might be deducing from his comment. It had been a long, long time since he had ever been able to slot himself into any heterosexual or homosexual labelling. Or even halfway in between. It was all the rage in the current era to be acknowledged as one or the other, but in Blaise's original time, it was something that was not spoken about. At the end of the day, he fed off both sexes, had lusted after both in a blood hunger, so his comment to her was completely honest, albeit with a lot of room for ambiguity. He was curious how far her cockiness would spread though, after moving along the block a little bit further, Blaise seized her into an embrace, and had her firmly pushed up against a wall of a darkened portion of the street as he locked her gaze again. His face was barely inches from hers, and if he leaned in just a breath more, their lips would touch. "How much do you want to hurt me right now, mon amour?" he challenged in an low purr.
Buffy couldn't hide her surprise at being found pressed up against the wall by Blaise. It had been a long time since any ordinary man had caught her off guard like that. And successfully pinned her in place. She gazed into his eyes for a moment before she managed to get her knee between his legs and started to apply pressure. "A lot more than what could be considered foreplay, lover. You really don't know who you're messing with." It was only know that Buffy was starting to think there was some piece of the puzzle she was missing, but the lust was back and clouding her judgement. She never pretended to be anything other than a girl. A woman who still wanted nothing more than to be with a man. She just didn't like being in a position of weakness, and she started to push her knee against him harder. "How's that cockiness now?"
Blaise reached between them, using some force to push her leg down and he stepped away from her to casually slip his hands back into the pockets of his jacket. He had an unreadable expression on his face as he watched her for a few moments. "Expected," he soon returned. He had the ability to have some control over her, so his initial suspicions weren't correct. And while he was curious about her, the cockiness wasn't something he generally found attractive. In fact, considering all the cockiness, he was surprised she used a sexual tactic to try and overpower him. He tilted his head a little and started walking again, leaving the choice up to her whether she wanted to follow him or not.
Buffy looked down at her boots as they now touched the ground and tried to work out what she was doing wrong. She wasn't a good damsel, she never had been. She also wasn't Faith. Rory had been the first guy she'd been with in a while, and even that had been touch and go. Maybe she really had been so focused on Slaying, and on discovering her true power, that she'd forgotten Buffy somewhere along the way. Destroying the Hellmouth in Sunnydale was supposed to give her Buffy time, but it hadn't. Instead she'd found herself in charge of a hell of a lot of girls that needed training. She frowned and only had to jog a little way to catch up with Blaise but she kept her hands to herself as she walked along side him. "Still cookie dough," she murmured quietly.
Blaise's lips flickered in a small smirk when she caught up with him again. Whatever she was, whoever she was, she was still a lot younger than him in years, just maybe not in appearance. People always intrigued him, especially ones with an air of curiousity. He had no intentions of hurting her, but it would hurt her to realise he might. She had no idea who he was and there was a strange sensation of protectiveness triggering in him again... just like it had with Bonnie. Perhaps he was ill? He wasn't used to feeling like this with anyone but Juliette or those in his Clan. "I might have to pass on that, cherie. Never had much of a taste for that baked product," he joked, even if the comment clearly meant something more to her.
Buffy smiled wryly as she flicked her hair out of her face. "You know, if I was the paranoid sort and not so cocky, I might be starting to think you're just trying to get rid of me. Is there any part of me you actually do like?" She didn't even know why she was trying to persist with Blaise. He was clearly a Frenchman with a lot of class, a lot of money, and probably a lot of people he'd rather be around than some ignorant American. He was just getting under her skin and she wanted to know why.
"Do not take it personally, chaton. I'm lactose interolerant," Blaise told her with an air of amusement in his tone. It wasn't a complete lie, more just a veiled comment. "How do I assume to like you? I do not know you. I thought that was why two strangers agreed for the company of a drink together. You have a vulnerability about you, non? It comes through every now and again when you forget to put your cocky mask on." He tapped at the top of his cheek with his finger, indicating a mask as he smiled down at her. "It slips."
"But there's sometimes an attraction. There doesn't always have to be, but sometimes there is." Buffy tried not to feel awkward in her thinking, but her brain and mouth really did suddenly feel very clumsy with their communication. "I guess strangers don't always equal sex, though. Or relationships. Or flirting. When there's a lot of boundary testing it just makes me wonder. A vulnerability? Well, I suppose. Maybe I'm just worried if I drop my mask for too long you'll take advantage. You can't tell me you don't wear a mask of some kind. Guy like you has to keep something guarded otherwise you'd open yourself up to manipulation and attack."
Blaise spotted the piano bar just up ahead and quirked an eyebrow at her. "Worried? I do not buy that. In fact, I believe deep down you want me to take advantage or you would not be wondering why I do not have an apparent attraction to you. There would be no mention of sex with strangers, or relationships, or flirting. You do not know anything about me, but you are concerned I am not intrigued by you. You would not be fearing what might be wrong with you because I do no 'like' you," he told her, holding his fingers up in quotation marks for emphasis. "I would not have bothered my time with you if I wasn't intrigued on some level, cherie. Everyone wears masks. Some better than others."
She pointed a finger at him. "You have me there. I don't even know why it's such a big deal. I'm usually cool, and not so preoccupied with being taken advantage of. I guess the accent just does things to me. I'm seriously becoming a slave to accents lately." Buffy had to smile just a little at seeing him use air quotations. "This is me letting it go. Just being a stranger having a drink with another stranger. I'll take whatever level it is so long as it means the chance to get to know you. Masks and all. I get a feeling yours is pretty well stuck on."
"If I was going to do anything to you, I had the perfect chance back there. You say I do not know what I'm messing with, but let's just reserve judgement on that front, hm? For all you know, I have the Hulk as my bodyguard. Granted, I do not believe he would be so subtle in the duty," Blaise joked and stepped up to the glass, tinted door of the bar and held it open for her. "You are blurring the lines of enjoying privacy and masks, chaton. There is a difference. Just because someone doesn't want people knowing all about them at first sight, does not automatically mean they are harbouring nasty secrets. I have a very busy lifestyle, I enjoy my privacy when I can get it."
"Edward Norton, or Eric Bana Hulk?" Buffy asked as if that would make any difference to Blaise's joke. She was pretty sure she could take the Bana Hulk, though. She remembered having to sit through both versions with Xander. At least both men were something nice to look at while she vagued out on the rest of the films. She stepped into the bar and looked around, finding the place nothing like she expected. It wasn't like she spent a lot of time in piano bars but the decor was lush and inviting, the warmth in here making her shudder as her body adjusted. "I never said there were nasty secrets involved. Just a careful screening of the things you do want people to know. I guess that is more privacy than masks, though. I know the feeling... I'd trade anything for a bit more privacy."
Blaise looked at her with an amused raise of his eyebrow. "The comic verse," he told her as he followed her into the bar. It was a place he visited regularly whenever he was in the Scottish capital. It was very tasteful inside, with a traditional gothic feel, just like many of the building's exteriors in the city. It was complimented with art deco, and it was more than up Blaise's alley in taste. Booths with deep red seats lined the walls and he gestured to a more secluded one. The piano music was subtle and non-intrusive. It was probably why Blaise spent more time here than in your traditional rowdy Scottish pubs. He waited for her to sit down and then slid into the booth beside her with a gesture to the waiter for service. Masks, indeed. Blaise knew for a fact this bar was own by one of his own Clan, but that wasn't something he was about to reveal to Buffy. "Don't most people screen information revealed to others, though, cherie? Otherwise life would be distinctly boring."
"Comics? You read comics? Really? Xander is seriously going to hate you. You're suave and French and you read comics. You're a geek's worst nightmare. The chicks will still take you over them any day," she joked as she looked at him with more than a little amusement and shock. "This place is actually pretty cool. Thanks for the invite, handsome. It's kind of nice to be somewhere grown up. I spend that much time around teenagers I feel like a Soccer Mom some days. Well, there's screening and then sometimes you get those few people lacking the filters. Like my friend, Xander, and occasionally me."
"On occasion," Blaise confirmed and greeted the waiter in French, followed by an order for an expensive bottle of red wine with two glasses. French, of course. "What are you and... Xander doing in Scotland?" he asked outright, a question he had been wondering since she started rambling out on the street. In fact, he wasn't even sure if this Xander was male or female. She had said a lot, but nothing that had been particularly useful to Blaise in general.
Buffy just watched in awe and hoped a little bit of drool didn't escape her mouth as she witnessed Blaise really let loose with the French. It was hot, and she was still thinking about doing naughty things to him. Did Slayers even go into heat? Maybe she was broken. First Elmo, now Frenchy. "We're, ah... running a training camp. Promoting teamwork, confidence, self-defense. That sort of thing." Buffy tried not to look like she was lying through her teeth, but given Xander and she hadn't exactly come up with a cover story yet she was already scrambling for an explanation.
Blaise sensed the untruth behind her words as they left her mouth, but if she wanted to conceal, who was he to really judge? He was a lot of things, but a hypocrite was certainly not one of them. He relaxed back in the booth and started to pull his gloves off slowly as he watched her intently. "Teamwork in what?" he pressed. "That sort of thing, hm? Sounds like you have your work cut out for you. There was I expecting you to tell me you were some sort of military armourist or sergeant, perhaps a member of the royal guard or a rocket scientist. Anything to support your comment that I don't know what I'm messing with. But a training camp... for confidence and self-defense?" He raised his eyebrows, wondering if she would actually elaborate.
"I mentioned once I get called General Buffy but apparently it promotes poor images of me in a band leader costume and ruins cheesy porn..." Buffy shrugged as she pulled her mouth to the side and held his gaze. She was searching his eyes for something, maybe some sign that she could trust him with her secret but they'd only just met and she wasn't suicidal. Telling too many people would put the Slayerettes at risk. Braveheart had been different different - he was a hunter, and he got it. This guy was still an unknown quantity. "Let's just call it a private school for girls. Just more without the school and general classes."
Blaise wasn't buying it and by now he was just watching her with a hint of a smirk on his lips. At the very least, it was entertaining to listen to. He placed his gloves on the table and rested a hand on top of them. "I will cease with the questions, mon cherie. I do not think you are all that smooth a liar. If you had just told me you were military, I would have believed it." The waiter arrived with the bottle of wine on a silver tray and placed the glasses in front of them. Blaise was offered a taste for his approval and with a small nod, he waved his hand for the man to serve them full glasses. "Merci, mon ami," he said to the waiter before he walked away with a nod, and then his eyes were locked back on Buffy's face.
Buffy sighed as she rest back against her side of the booth. "I couldn't be military if I tried. I hate guns. I really, really hate guns. I don't like being shot, and I don't like people who use them. There are some things that just should not be used, or promoted. I think guns are one of them. I'm sorry I suck at lying. I never have been very good at it." Buffy reached out to touch her fingers against the base of her glass. "I'll give you the answers when I know if I can trust you with them. It's as simple as that."
Blaise sipped his wine, savouring the taste just a little but making sure he didn't take too much. He shook his head. "You shouldn't trust me, chaton. As simple as that," he returned with a light shrug. "So, tell me. You do not trust guns and do not believe they should be promoted. What about other weapons? Afterall, some things can wound, maim or kill just as badly as guns. Human hands, for example, with enough rage behind them. Or a tiny surgical needle can kill someone with a small bubble of air."
Buffy took a sip of her own wine, her eyebrows raising slightly as the red liquid hit her tongue. She would never claim to be an experienced wine drinker, but she knew enough to know that what Blaise had picked really was very special. "At least we have that cleared up. So no trusting you. That means you'll never know my secret. Not unless your bodyguard is really a mindreader, or a ninja that can discover all my secrets. But am I really that interesting that you'd need to spy on me? As for other weapons... I am guilty of using them. But in the right conditions. I'm not about to run around hacking and slashing just for the fun of it. I just like my weapons a little more traditional."
"Guns were conceived as early as the fifteenth century, cherie. You can not get a lot more traditional than that," Blaise replied, nursing the glass casually in his palm and swirling the liquid slowly around in the bottom of it. "I could always just have this Xander kidnapped and information drawn from him by less than innocent tactics. A name like that in Scotland, he would not be hard to track down by people with the right sources. But of course, why would I need to spy on you? Unless, of course, you are some sort of threat to me."
"I think you'll find there are weapons a lot more traditional than guns. Besides, it's not as if anyone carries around a pistol these days, is it? Not that kind of one. Modern guns are just dangerous and just as unpredictable as the people that wield them. Who needs to think about tactics and plans when you just go in and blast the shit out of everything?" Her face darkened at the threat to Xander, regardless of whether it was a poor joke or not. Her green eyes flashed and one hand formed a fist. "I don't even know who you are to be a threat, but you harm a hair on Xander's head and I'll definitely become one."
Blaise just started to laugh at the threat, and shook his head as he turned his head to look around the bar, sipping his wine lethargically. All the inconsistencies of hers were just more amusing than intriguing, if anything. She hated guns, but wanted to freely threaten him. Not that a gun would do any harm to him anyway. She admitted to injuring things with weapons, but got high and mighty about a firearm. His phone started to ring in his jacket pocket and he took his out with his free hand, seeing it was Juliette. She was probably still concerned he was angry at her, but after having his hunger satiated, the young Scottish redhead was barely an afterthought for him. He answered the call, and after a brief conversation in French, he told Juliette he would obviously be back before sunrise, and to not worry. He looked back to Buffy, his voice calm and even when he spoke again. "You do not scare me, cherie. I have no doubt you scare others, but it will take a lot more than empty threats for me to even want to take you serious. Is there more to you than living in a school and dangerous talk? I sincerely hope so, because I have a very short attention span."
Buffy glanced away as Blaise took the call. Even if she couldn't understand the conversation she still felt like she should give him privacy. She did manage to pick out the little pet names, though. It was a woman. A French one. When he was addressing her again, she returned her gaze to his and tried not to feel like a naughty child as he spoke to her. "I like bad ice skating movies, and I love ice skating. My Mom died of cancer a few years back and my father could really care less about his daughters. I have a little sister, but she's in Italy right now. I hadn't really seen snow until coming here. My first love was an older guy and ridiculously complicated. My second was a soldier, and to be honest... I didn't really love him until it was too late. I can't hold down a proper job. Not fast food, not as a counsellor. I used to be a cheerleader - ha, ha. That all changed when my parents were going through their divorce and I realised there were much bigger things to life. I'm just me."
"My sympathies for your mother, belle. I lost both my parents also at a young age, and my brother. I was more close to him than my parents..." Blaised explained. He tilted his head slightly in contemplation at her comments about her lovers. It was curious, because he still wasn't getting any hunger towards her. There was no way she had truly been in love. It was impossible. In fact, he had more urge to feed on the woman sitting at the bar and nursing a martini than he did of Buffy sitting beside him. "I have a very dear friend who is my family in every sense but blood. We both experienced tragedy and loss, and somewhat bonded over it. My work and my position are important to me. I cannot imagine not being able to retain it."
"It's amazing what happens when you find out who your real friends are, isn't it? Xander, Willow, Giles... They're all I've had. They were there for me when my Mom died, and I don't know what I'd do without them. I really don't. Giles is the Dad I never got to have. And British, so you know... Again with the different. But you get my point, right? Father figure type. It still freaks me out when he's gone, but I guess like any father and daughter growing apart is bound to happen. I'm supposed to be a big girl now, and stand on my own two feet." Buffy reached up to scratch at her forehead before she frowned. "I'm sorry about your family. That really is hard... Especially with your brother. I came close to losing my little sister. Let's, um... Let's just say I didn't always know she existed. I'd only just found her when I nearly lost her. She's my blood relative, but I'm not always the best big sister. I know I'm not. And just to sound like an idiot work isn't important to me because I have a higher calling... Fate's already got things figured out for me, so I've embraced it. Makes a nine to five hard to hold down."
Blaise quirked an eyebrow, wondering how being British made one different, but he didn't comment on the fact. She still had an air of naivety about her, as she should. He figured she couldn't be much more than the age he was when he was Embraced. He remembered what it was like to be that age. He had been full of naivety... and arrogance, but adament he was anything but. It was naivity that had him following that man in the palace in the first place. He had been young and stupid, and although on his exterior he was still that age, he had many, many years to shake it. "I would not know, mon cherie. I have never been a daughter," he quipped and held his glass up to her in a small toast before he took a sip. "Or a father. Fate is subjective. You live believing fate already has it all mapped out for you, there is no point in thinking and feeling for yourself. You are never going to reach what you truly desire anyway, for fate is apparently someone else's want. But to each his own. I personally believe that fate is conneries. An excuse, shall we say." He placed his glass down on the table and picked up his gloves. "I must go. Excusez-moi, cherie. Désolé. I am starting to feel the need for sleep. It has been a long day indeed. Allow me to pay for a taxi home for you, as gratitude for an interesting conversation. I do not believe fate would want you catching your death in cold," he added with an amused smirk and slipped a fifty pound note from his wallet and handed it to her.
Buffy looked down at the money and gave a shake of her head. "That's okay, the conversation was for free. I'm fine for getting myself home. You bought the wine. We'll call it even for now. You should just go and get some beauty sleep. Not that you really need it. I mean, you're just naturally ridiculously handsome. It's fine, really. Keep your money." She pushed Blaise's hand and the note back towards him. Even if she had enjoyed their strange time together she didn't want to take his money. It just felt like it was that little bit too much. "We'll just say screw fate for now, and I'll risk the cold. Thanks for the drink, and thanks for putting up with me, Blaise. It was a real pleasure to meet you."
Blaise was more than offended when she didn't take the gesture. He pursed his lips together slightly and took the money back with a small nod. "Bonsoir, mademoiselle, enjoy your fate," he said, unable to completey hide the small sneer behind the words. With another smirk, he turned and left bar without looking back. He was more than glad Bastille Day was over.
Word Count | 7,622
[Follows THIS]
Blaise could barely even look at Juliette as she left the ornate hotel room with the petite redheaded Scottish girl. There was a hungry desperation starting to electrify through him and he knew there was going to be no easing it until he fed. He didn't even know why his conscience suddenly got the better of him with the young woman, but to hear that despite having tasted true love, she was still very much enamoured with her beau and Blaise knew if he fed off her, it would change her life. Most recovered from it, living with just the memory that somehow got them into some sort of accident that landed them in hospital with blood loss. But this woman was alone, her lover hundreds of miles away in England. Blaise just couldn't, and it was probably something he would never be able to explain. Sometimes, his beliefs just got the better of him, but they never fought the hunger. In fact, it often just made it worse, and he was angry at Juliette by default.
He didn't remain and wait for her. They could have gotten into a furious argument if he had, and the hotel would get suspicious. When he was feeling like this, bordering on a desperate blood lust, Blaise couldn't control himself. Juliette had taken the brunt of it many times in the past, and she was usually able to placate him with her own blood and passionate sex. Not when he was directly angry at her, though. The streets of Edinburgh were dark and chilled, even for a summer's night. It took a lot longer for Scotland to get dark in the summer, often the dusk not coming until ten or eleven at night. But it was not the early hours of the morning, and the streets were only bathed in light from the street lamps. It wasn't a weekend, so there were no boistrous crowd out singing drunkenly in the streets. The city had a strange stillness about it, but everyone knew things lurked in the shadows and never really rested.
Blaise drew back from the young man lying unconscious beneath him, licking the blood from his lips as he glanced up at the sky. It was clear, not a full moon, but plenty of stars. He was breathless from the feed, and took a moment to stay stooped over the man to gather himself as the hunger eased off to a satiated warmth that crept back into his skin and tinged his cheeks with a hint of a lively pink hue. Feeding could make Kindred feel almost alive again. The man had been a pianist in a small boutique hotel on the Old Mile, walking home from his night at work. Blaise had just pounced, from where he had been waiting in the darkness beneath the trees in Princes Street Gardens. The guy didn't even have time to make a sound before Blaise fed from him to unconsciousness. Blaise had sensed the the man's romantic feelings from long off and had stalked him the length of the gardens along Princes Street. Now it was done, and Blaise began to feel normal again. He licked at the two puncture wounds on the man's throat, lapping up the lingering blood and the wound healing over instantly. Blaise's eyes shifted from the intense silver back to blue as his gloved hand reached into the pocket of the man's leather jacket and pulled out his mobile phone. Calmly, Blaise placed a 999 emergency call to an ambulance, giving the location. He ended the call before giving his name and dropped the phone back at the man's side as he rose and was exiting the dark gardens in the middle of the city in moments.
He bounded up the stairs, giving a brief glance over his clothing to make sure there was no blood spatters or drops. Spotting a small splash of deep scarlet on his lapel, he took a linen handkerchief from his pocket and wiped it off before it was plunged back into the depths of his jacket out of sight and cool blue eyes looked up and down the street for anything that seemed out of the ordinary. He could smell the nightlife and he watched as black cab made its way slowly along the otherwise deserted street. Now he could return to the hotel without any risk of creating a scene.
Buffy twirled the stake in her hand and hummed to herself under her breath. At least it wasn't pouring with rain tonight, and the streets really were quiet. Things could have been worse. She could have been stuck in the castle with the Slayerettes. She realised how stupid it was that she had done nothing but bemoan the fact she had been the lone Slayer back in the beginning, and then Kendra, followed by Faith had come along and things had been easier - she could have thought about retiring. And she'd never really been alone. She'd always had Giles, Xander and Willow. Even others had come and gone over the years. There was Dawn as well, but Buffy would be lying if she didn't admit to the fact that her sister being away in Italy with Andrew was a relief.
The Slayerettes though, they weren't as easy to get rid of. They still needed tracking down and accounting for, training and an introduction to their lives as Slayers. It was a broken rule she had no way of fixing.
And all Buffy wanted was her old life back. Even if it wasn't in Sunnydale she just wanted to be her again. In a strange way the mysterious Elmo had given her a taste of it, and now she wanted more. Xander seemed to realise Buffy needed a little time to just be herself and wasn't bothering her with any Slayerette news. He did keep messaging her with his disapproval of the kilted hottie and the fact that she was once again getting more action than him. All Buffy could do was apologise and assure him that it was probably a once off. Even if she wouldn't have minded a second off, or a third off.
She cocked her head as something had her Slayer senses tingling, and for reasons best known to herself she tucked the stake up in her sleeve to stop Mr Pointy from being seen. There was something in the air, like a slight change that made her feel like she should know what it meant. Like something was tickling the back of her mind but not quite making itself known. She hated when that happened. She was still trying to figure out what was wrong when she turned around and walked straight into a wall of black. She blinked and then looked up to find intense blue eyes staring down at her. "Whoa."
Blaise had put his hands out, grabbing the woman lightly by the upper arms to stop her from falling, but as soon as she met his eyes, he released his grip but made no attempt to step out of her personal space. She had invaded his, afterall. He looked at her silently for a few moments, that post-feeding contentment and strength bubbling through him. It was like what he remembered the post-orgasmic haze to feel like when he was still mortal, only take that and multiply it by about a hundred. He flashed her a hint of a smirk at her comment. "Bonsoir, mon cherie... what is a belle like you doing hanging around in a place like this so late at night?" he asked her smoothly, tilting his head just a little as his eyes remained locked on hers.
Buffy never thought of herself as a typical blonde bimbo and usually she could ramble with the best of them, but moments like these - men like this one - managed to render her speechless. She just stood there trying to fight through the sudden void in her mind and then the French registered and Buffy was a lost cause. "Hm?" She blinked once, then again as she held his gaze. "You're French. Like, French-French. Proper French. I sucked at French. You should know that. I struggled to get good grades, but it wasn't from lack of trying. I'm sorry. If it helps my English is just as questionable. Ask Giles."
Blaised merely watched her, bemused as she rambled and waited for her to finish. He had lost track of the amount of people who told him they studied French in school when they knew he was born in the country. Not that they would ever know the half of that. He wet his lips briefly and then started to slowly pull his hand from his black silk glove and held his hand out to her, his ring finger adorned in a thick gold-crested ring with a ruby. "Blaise Richelieu," he introduced himself with a small nod. "C'est un plaisir de vous recontrer, cherie... It's a pleasure to meet you," he translated a moment later in English with a hint of a smile.
Buffy gave him a relieved smile at the translation. If she had been left to figure it out herself she could only imagine what she might have assumed he'd said. "Enchante," she replied and resisted the urge to curtsy. The ring was impressive to say the least, but she couldn't keep her eyes off his for very long. "Buffy Summers. It's a pleasure to meet you too, Blaise. Monsieur Richelieu. I'm sorry about... the walking into you thing. And the rambling thing. I do it a lot. You should know that."
Blaise raised an eyebrow at her, unable to help wondering if the rambling was incessant and annoying. He usually didn't bother his time with it, and tuned people out who attempt it. But then, he had lived a very, very long time. His patience could wane easier than most. He looked down at her hand, and then turned hers over to dip his head and softly kiss the back of it. No urge to feed came at all as his lips touched her skin and he resisted the urge to sigh. They really did seem to be few and far between lately. He kept a hold of her hand, his grip tightening as he rose and locked her gaze again. "Dangereux, chaton..." he purred, the smirk back. "You are very, very trusting of strangers."
Buffy caught her lip to try and slow the rambling. Mostly it was a nervous thing. Monsters she could handle, but boys? There was no way she was ever going to be smooth with them. Spike had been easy because she'd spent so much time just hating him. And Angel? Well, Angel was just a constant after a while. He was her first love. If she couldn't be at ease with him, then she really did have issues. "Maybe that's just because I know how to take care of myself. Don't always judge a book by it's cover. Or a woman by her size."
"En effet," Blaise agreed quietly, but he made no move to release her hand still. She had said enough to ring warning bells in his head. For her size and indeed age, she was far too cocky and now he was watching her even more closely and more analyitcally. A young woman out alone in a darkened city in the very early hours of the morning... it made no sense. She wasn't Kindred, he would smell it. In fact, she wasn't a vampire of any bloodline. But he let go of her hand and pulled on his glove once again. "Here's hoping nothing nasty befowls you, cherie. Even the cockiest of people can still... find themselves in danger."
"Don't I know it," Buffy murmured as her expression shifted to something akin to sadness. She knew better than anyone that cockiness didn't get you everywhere. She looked down to find her hand no longer in his and pouted just a little at the loss of contact before she flexed her fingers and then tucked her hands into the pockets of her jacket. "Thanks for the concern, handsome. Personally I'm just grateful you were the dark and mysterious I ran into and nothing someth--someone else. Makes me wonder what you're doing out in the streets alone, though. That ring speaks a lot about status. I would have thought you might have servants to take a stroll in the dark for you."
Blaise glanced up the street. "How do you know I don't, chaton? Just because you can't see something, does not mean you should assume it's not there. All cities have eyes and ears, stories to tell, and Edinburgh is one of our oldest storytellers." Sirens could be heard in the distance and a moment later an ambulance came screaming around the corner and sped up the street to stop at the other end of the block. Blaise watched the scene quietly, satisfied that his prey would get the medical assistance needed. He could still taste the blood on his lips.
Buffy frowned at seeing the ambulance and took a step away from Blaise briefly as she tried to work out if it was something she should concern herself with. The Scottish hunter had mentioned vampires that covered their tracks well, and Buffy wondered if chasing ambulances was really going to give her anything other than stalker charges. She glanced back at Blaise and blushed just a little when she realised she was probably acting weird. "Ninja servants, huh? Does that mean I might have to be comfortable with being watched?"
Blaise raised his eyebrows slightly with another amused smirk, but he didn't answer her question, nor did he have any intentions of doing so. She could wonder about the answers herself. It would never do anyone any harm to assume they were being watched. Mortals were watched more than they realised... only he, more than most, would never make any assumptions that someone was mortal. Looks could very much be deceiving. He could sense the blood pumping through her veins, though, and he felt her pulse when he had her hand. Still no urge to taste her, though. "There is a small piano bar a mere block from here, stays open all night. Would you accompany me for a drink, cherie?" he asked her, his curiosity piqued at least for the moment.
Buffy reached up to tuck some of her hair behind her ear as she gave him a smile. "Sure, I'd love to. Piano bars are... not really my scene, but there's always a first time. Can't deny I'm a little curious about Edinburgh's nightlife. At least beyond certain parts of it. I haven't really had much of a chance to party. Or drink. And just please, please make sure the drink isn't beer." She reached out to tuck her hand into the crook of his elbow as she moved to his side. Right then she wasn't even thinking about the fact that Blaise might have his own secrets, too concerned with making sure her own stayed under wraps. Spending more time with the Frenchman was hard to say no to, though. "You always ask strange girls to join you at piano bars, Blaise?"
Blaise started heading in the direction of the bar, his expensive leather shoes clicking softly on the sidewalk before he stepped out onto the cobbles of the next street as they rounded the corner. "Do you not think you should be more concerned if I asked you to a less than public outlet, mon cherie? You will not find much nightlife at this hour on a weekday. Edinburgh sleeps. The weekends, much more colourful and alive." In the distance, he could see the Caledonian Hotel looming above the gardens, and he couldn't help but wonder if Juliette had returned there after delivering Bonnie back to safety. Of course, there was always a chance that even though Blaise did not want to feed from the girl, that Juliette wouldn't have proceeded to do so herself. Juliette's tastes were a lot more varied than Blaise's ever had. In fact, he suspected Juliette would be more than intrigued to savour Buffy, given the chance. Blaise, on the other hand, knew he wouldn't stomach it.
"Pretty sure it's the ones that ask me to public places that freak me out more. Tells you what sort of guys I like, huh? So, again, if Edinburgh doesn't have much of a nightlife at this time of the night, what exactly are you doing out? Is this place your home, or are you here on business? Maybe you're coming back from seeing your lady friend, but now you've picked up another one?" Buffy was starting to gear up with the questions now she wasn't so transfixed by his gaze, but that didn't mean she was moving away from his side any time soon, or letting go of his arm. He felt like he worked out.
"Then I repeat, you are very trusting. Almost too trusting, perhaps," Blaise added and glanced down at her again. "That is an extremely curious trait, belle. One would be quite tempted to take advantage of that. Paris is my home. I am here on some personal business, with a very dear friend. Would you expect me to freely tell you if I was... indulging in de coucherie?" He looked down at her again with a small wink. "Sleeping around, mon cherie," he elaborated. "And how do you know my taste does not lean towards men?"
Buffy tilted her head as she considered her ability to trust people quickly. She always thought maybe she didn't have it in her to trust so easily, but he could be right. "I'm trusting at least until I get given a reason otherwise," she murmured half to herself as she continued her line of thinking out loud. "I think that at the end of the day I still just want to believe there is good in people. It can't all be bad. That doesn't mean I don't still have issues. I'm hardly claiming the sanity card here." Buffy looked up at him and arched an eyebrow slightly as her lips twisted into a small smirk. "Depends what kind of man you are, Blaise. Some enjoy boasting about their nightly activities. Personally, I'm hoping that you wouldn't. There's too much class oozing out of you. As for the men, well, it's possible. And if you do then totally a loss for my team."
Blaise smirked and shook his head. "Oh non, cherie. I think it's because you're too confident. We do not live in a soap opera. Very few people are all good. You're trusting because you do not believe you will get hurt," he deduced. "And while most believe that is a positive trait..." He just trailed off with a mere shrug, letting her fill in the gaps herself. "Discretion is a quality more of this world should favour in themselves. It has been lost to society in this day and age in favour of young people in extremely tight and revealing clothing and far too much cockiness that could ever be attractive to someone with class. Unfortunately they do not realise this, and unfortunately, far too many get themselves into trouble because of it. I have varied tastes, chaton."
Buffy looked down at her jacket, and sweater and then at her jeans. Okay, so maybe she liked her jeans fitting, but she'd given up revealing clothing after she'd past her teen years. Then she thought about the overconfidence and wondered if he was right. Her brow was still furrowed as they walked and she turned his words over carefully in her mind. Slowly she was getting past the outright lust and actually getting involved in the conversation. "Sometimes opposites can attract though, don't you think? Varied... Oh. Oh. I need a moment while I imagine that..."
Blaise was amused to contemplate what she might be deducing from his comment. It had been a long, long time since he had ever been able to slot himself into any heterosexual or homosexual labelling. Or even halfway in between. It was all the rage in the current era to be acknowledged as one or the other, but in Blaise's original time, it was something that was not spoken about. At the end of the day, he fed off both sexes, had lusted after both in a blood hunger, so his comment to her was completely honest, albeit with a lot of room for ambiguity. He was curious how far her cockiness would spread though, after moving along the block a little bit further, Blaise seized her into an embrace, and had her firmly pushed up against a wall of a darkened portion of the street as he locked her gaze again. His face was barely inches from hers, and if he leaned in just a breath more, their lips would touch. "How much do you want to hurt me right now, mon amour?" he challenged in an low purr.
Buffy couldn't hide her surprise at being found pressed up against the wall by Blaise. It had been a long time since any ordinary man had caught her off guard like that. And successfully pinned her in place. She gazed into his eyes for a moment before she managed to get her knee between his legs and started to apply pressure. "A lot more than what could be considered foreplay, lover. You really don't know who you're messing with." It was only know that Buffy was starting to think there was some piece of the puzzle she was missing, but the lust was back and clouding her judgement. She never pretended to be anything other than a girl. A woman who still wanted nothing more than to be with a man. She just didn't like being in a position of weakness, and she started to push her knee against him harder. "How's that cockiness now?"
Blaise reached between them, using some force to push her leg down and he stepped away from her to casually slip his hands back into the pockets of his jacket. He had an unreadable expression on his face as he watched her for a few moments. "Expected," he soon returned. He had the ability to have some control over her, so his initial suspicions weren't correct. And while he was curious about her, the cockiness wasn't something he generally found attractive. In fact, considering all the cockiness, he was surprised she used a sexual tactic to try and overpower him. He tilted his head a little and started walking again, leaving the choice up to her whether she wanted to follow him or not.
Buffy looked down at her boots as they now touched the ground and tried to work out what she was doing wrong. She wasn't a good damsel, she never had been. She also wasn't Faith. Rory had been the first guy she'd been with in a while, and even that had been touch and go. Maybe she really had been so focused on Slaying, and on discovering her true power, that she'd forgotten Buffy somewhere along the way. Destroying the Hellmouth in Sunnydale was supposed to give her Buffy time, but it hadn't. Instead she'd found herself in charge of a hell of a lot of girls that needed training. She frowned and only had to jog a little way to catch up with Blaise but she kept her hands to herself as she walked along side him. "Still cookie dough," she murmured quietly.
Blaise's lips flickered in a small smirk when she caught up with him again. Whatever she was, whoever she was, she was still a lot younger than him in years, just maybe not in appearance. People always intrigued him, especially ones with an air of curiousity. He had no intentions of hurting her, but it would hurt her to realise he might. She had no idea who he was and there was a strange sensation of protectiveness triggering in him again... just like it had with Bonnie. Perhaps he was ill? He wasn't used to feeling like this with anyone but Juliette or those in his Clan. "I might have to pass on that, cherie. Never had much of a taste for that baked product," he joked, even if the comment clearly meant something more to her.
Buffy smiled wryly as she flicked her hair out of her face. "You know, if I was the paranoid sort and not so cocky, I might be starting to think you're just trying to get rid of me. Is there any part of me you actually do like?" She didn't even know why she was trying to persist with Blaise. He was clearly a Frenchman with a lot of class, a lot of money, and probably a lot of people he'd rather be around than some ignorant American. He was just getting under her skin and she wanted to know why.
"Do not take it personally, chaton. I'm lactose interolerant," Blaise told her with an air of amusement in his tone. It wasn't a complete lie, more just a veiled comment. "How do I assume to like you? I do not know you. I thought that was why two strangers agreed for the company of a drink together. You have a vulnerability about you, non? It comes through every now and again when you forget to put your cocky mask on." He tapped at the top of his cheek with his finger, indicating a mask as he smiled down at her. "It slips."
"But there's sometimes an attraction. There doesn't always have to be, but sometimes there is." Buffy tried not to feel awkward in her thinking, but her brain and mouth really did suddenly feel very clumsy with their communication. "I guess strangers don't always equal sex, though. Or relationships. Or flirting. When there's a lot of boundary testing it just makes me wonder. A vulnerability? Well, I suppose. Maybe I'm just worried if I drop my mask for too long you'll take advantage. You can't tell me you don't wear a mask of some kind. Guy like you has to keep something guarded otherwise you'd open yourself up to manipulation and attack."
Blaise spotted the piano bar just up ahead and quirked an eyebrow at her. "Worried? I do not buy that. In fact, I believe deep down you want me to take advantage or you would not be wondering why I do not have an apparent attraction to you. There would be no mention of sex with strangers, or relationships, or flirting. You do not know anything about me, but you are concerned I am not intrigued by you. You would not be fearing what might be wrong with you because I do no 'like' you," he told her, holding his fingers up in quotation marks for emphasis. "I would not have bothered my time with you if I wasn't intrigued on some level, cherie. Everyone wears masks. Some better than others."
She pointed a finger at him. "You have me there. I don't even know why it's such a big deal. I'm usually cool, and not so preoccupied with being taken advantage of. I guess the accent just does things to me. I'm seriously becoming a slave to accents lately." Buffy had to smile just a little at seeing him use air quotations. "This is me letting it go. Just being a stranger having a drink with another stranger. I'll take whatever level it is so long as it means the chance to get to know you. Masks and all. I get a feeling yours is pretty well stuck on."
"If I was going to do anything to you, I had the perfect chance back there. You say I do not know what I'm messing with, but let's just reserve judgement on that front, hm? For all you know, I have the Hulk as my bodyguard. Granted, I do not believe he would be so subtle in the duty," Blaise joked and stepped up to the glass, tinted door of the bar and held it open for her. "You are blurring the lines of enjoying privacy and masks, chaton. There is a difference. Just because someone doesn't want people knowing all about them at first sight, does not automatically mean they are harbouring nasty secrets. I have a very busy lifestyle, I enjoy my privacy when I can get it."
"Edward Norton, or Eric Bana Hulk?" Buffy asked as if that would make any difference to Blaise's joke. She was pretty sure she could take the Bana Hulk, though. She remembered having to sit through both versions with Xander. At least both men were something nice to look at while she vagued out on the rest of the films. She stepped into the bar and looked around, finding the place nothing like she expected. It wasn't like she spent a lot of time in piano bars but the decor was lush and inviting, the warmth in here making her shudder as her body adjusted. "I never said there were nasty secrets involved. Just a careful screening of the things you do want people to know. I guess that is more privacy than masks, though. I know the feeling... I'd trade anything for a bit more privacy."
Blaise looked at her with an amused raise of his eyebrow. "The comic verse," he told her as he followed her into the bar. It was a place he visited regularly whenever he was in the Scottish capital. It was very tasteful inside, with a traditional gothic feel, just like many of the building's exteriors in the city. It was complimented with art deco, and it was more than up Blaise's alley in taste. Booths with deep red seats lined the walls and he gestured to a more secluded one. The piano music was subtle and non-intrusive. It was probably why Blaise spent more time here than in your traditional rowdy Scottish pubs. He waited for her to sit down and then slid into the booth beside her with a gesture to the waiter for service. Masks, indeed. Blaise knew for a fact this bar was own by one of his own Clan, but that wasn't something he was about to reveal to Buffy. "Don't most people screen information revealed to others, though, cherie? Otherwise life would be distinctly boring."
"Comics? You read comics? Really? Xander is seriously going to hate you. You're suave and French and you read comics. You're a geek's worst nightmare. The chicks will still take you over them any day," she joked as she looked at him with more than a little amusement and shock. "This place is actually pretty cool. Thanks for the invite, handsome. It's kind of nice to be somewhere grown up. I spend that much time around teenagers I feel like a Soccer Mom some days. Well, there's screening and then sometimes you get those few people lacking the filters. Like my friend, Xander, and occasionally me."
"On occasion," Blaise confirmed and greeted the waiter in French, followed by an order for an expensive bottle of red wine with two glasses. French, of course. "What are you and... Xander doing in Scotland?" he asked outright, a question he had been wondering since she started rambling out on the street. In fact, he wasn't even sure if this Xander was male or female. She had said a lot, but nothing that had been particularly useful to Blaise in general.
Buffy just watched in awe and hoped a little bit of drool didn't escape her mouth as she witnessed Blaise really let loose with the French. It was hot, and she was still thinking about doing naughty things to him. Did Slayers even go into heat? Maybe she was broken. First Elmo, now Frenchy. "We're, ah... running a training camp. Promoting teamwork, confidence, self-defense. That sort of thing." Buffy tried not to look like she was lying through her teeth, but given Xander and she hadn't exactly come up with a cover story yet she was already scrambling for an explanation.
Blaise sensed the untruth behind her words as they left her mouth, but if she wanted to conceal, who was he to really judge? He was a lot of things, but a hypocrite was certainly not one of them. He relaxed back in the booth and started to pull his gloves off slowly as he watched her intently. "Teamwork in what?" he pressed. "That sort of thing, hm? Sounds like you have your work cut out for you. There was I expecting you to tell me you were some sort of military armourist or sergeant, perhaps a member of the royal guard or a rocket scientist. Anything to support your comment that I don't know what I'm messing with. But a training camp... for confidence and self-defense?" He raised his eyebrows, wondering if she would actually elaborate.
"I mentioned once I get called General Buffy but apparently it promotes poor images of me in a band leader costume and ruins cheesy porn..." Buffy shrugged as she pulled her mouth to the side and held his gaze. She was searching his eyes for something, maybe some sign that she could trust him with her secret but they'd only just met and she wasn't suicidal. Telling too many people would put the Slayerettes at risk. Braveheart had been different different - he was a hunter, and he got it. This guy was still an unknown quantity. "Let's just call it a private school for girls. Just more without the school and general classes."
Blaise wasn't buying it and by now he was just watching her with a hint of a smirk on his lips. At the very least, it was entertaining to listen to. He placed his gloves on the table and rested a hand on top of them. "I will cease with the questions, mon cherie. I do not think you are all that smooth a liar. If you had just told me you were military, I would have believed it." The waiter arrived with the bottle of wine on a silver tray and placed the glasses in front of them. Blaise was offered a taste for his approval and with a small nod, he waved his hand for the man to serve them full glasses. "Merci, mon ami," he said to the waiter before he walked away with a nod, and then his eyes were locked back on Buffy's face.
Buffy sighed as she rest back against her side of the booth. "I couldn't be military if I tried. I hate guns. I really, really hate guns. I don't like being shot, and I don't like people who use them. There are some things that just should not be used, or promoted. I think guns are one of them. I'm sorry I suck at lying. I never have been very good at it." Buffy reached out to touch her fingers against the base of her glass. "I'll give you the answers when I know if I can trust you with them. It's as simple as that."
Blaise sipped his wine, savouring the taste just a little but making sure he didn't take too much. He shook his head. "You shouldn't trust me, chaton. As simple as that," he returned with a light shrug. "So, tell me. You do not trust guns and do not believe they should be promoted. What about other weapons? Afterall, some things can wound, maim or kill just as badly as guns. Human hands, for example, with enough rage behind them. Or a tiny surgical needle can kill someone with a small bubble of air."
Buffy took a sip of her own wine, her eyebrows raising slightly as the red liquid hit her tongue. She would never claim to be an experienced wine drinker, but she knew enough to know that what Blaise had picked really was very special. "At least we have that cleared up. So no trusting you. That means you'll never know my secret. Not unless your bodyguard is really a mindreader, or a ninja that can discover all my secrets. But am I really that interesting that you'd need to spy on me? As for other weapons... I am guilty of using them. But in the right conditions. I'm not about to run around hacking and slashing just for the fun of it. I just like my weapons a little more traditional."
"Guns were conceived as early as the fifteenth century, cherie. You can not get a lot more traditional than that," Blaise replied, nursing the glass casually in his palm and swirling the liquid slowly around in the bottom of it. "I could always just have this Xander kidnapped and information drawn from him by less than innocent tactics. A name like that in Scotland, he would not be hard to track down by people with the right sources. But of course, why would I need to spy on you? Unless, of course, you are some sort of threat to me."
"I think you'll find there are weapons a lot more traditional than guns. Besides, it's not as if anyone carries around a pistol these days, is it? Not that kind of one. Modern guns are just dangerous and just as unpredictable as the people that wield them. Who needs to think about tactics and plans when you just go in and blast the shit out of everything?" Her face darkened at the threat to Xander, regardless of whether it was a poor joke or not. Her green eyes flashed and one hand formed a fist. "I don't even know who you are to be a threat, but you harm a hair on Xander's head and I'll definitely become one."
Blaise just started to laugh at the threat, and shook his head as he turned his head to look around the bar, sipping his wine lethargically. All the inconsistencies of hers were just more amusing than intriguing, if anything. She hated guns, but wanted to freely threaten him. Not that a gun would do any harm to him anyway. She admitted to injuring things with weapons, but got high and mighty about a firearm. His phone started to ring in his jacket pocket and he took his out with his free hand, seeing it was Juliette. She was probably still concerned he was angry at her, but after having his hunger satiated, the young Scottish redhead was barely an afterthought for him. He answered the call, and after a brief conversation in French, he told Juliette he would obviously be back before sunrise, and to not worry. He looked back to Buffy, his voice calm and even when he spoke again. "You do not scare me, cherie. I have no doubt you scare others, but it will take a lot more than empty threats for me to even want to take you serious. Is there more to you than living in a school and dangerous talk? I sincerely hope so, because I have a very short attention span."
Buffy glanced away as Blaise took the call. Even if she couldn't understand the conversation she still felt like she should give him privacy. She did manage to pick out the little pet names, though. It was a woman. A French one. When he was addressing her again, she returned her gaze to his and tried not to feel like a naughty child as he spoke to her. "I like bad ice skating movies, and I love ice skating. My Mom died of cancer a few years back and my father could really care less about his daughters. I have a little sister, but she's in Italy right now. I hadn't really seen snow until coming here. My first love was an older guy and ridiculously complicated. My second was a soldier, and to be honest... I didn't really love him until it was too late. I can't hold down a proper job. Not fast food, not as a counsellor. I used to be a cheerleader - ha, ha. That all changed when my parents were going through their divorce and I realised there were much bigger things to life. I'm just me."
"My sympathies for your mother, belle. I lost both my parents also at a young age, and my brother. I was more close to him than my parents..." Blaised explained. He tilted his head slightly in contemplation at her comments about her lovers. It was curious, because he still wasn't getting any hunger towards her. There was no way she had truly been in love. It was impossible. In fact, he had more urge to feed on the woman sitting at the bar and nursing a martini than he did of Buffy sitting beside him. "I have a very dear friend who is my family in every sense but blood. We both experienced tragedy and loss, and somewhat bonded over it. My work and my position are important to me. I cannot imagine not being able to retain it."
"It's amazing what happens when you find out who your real friends are, isn't it? Xander, Willow, Giles... They're all I've had. They were there for me when my Mom died, and I don't know what I'd do without them. I really don't. Giles is the Dad I never got to have. And British, so you know... Again with the different. But you get my point, right? Father figure type. It still freaks me out when he's gone, but I guess like any father and daughter growing apart is bound to happen. I'm supposed to be a big girl now, and stand on my own two feet." Buffy reached up to scratch at her forehead before she frowned. "I'm sorry about your family. That really is hard... Especially with your brother. I came close to losing my little sister. Let's, um... Let's just say I didn't always know she existed. I'd only just found her when I nearly lost her. She's my blood relative, but I'm not always the best big sister. I know I'm not. And just to sound like an idiot work isn't important to me because I have a higher calling... Fate's already got things figured out for me, so I've embraced it. Makes a nine to five hard to hold down."
Blaise quirked an eyebrow, wondering how being British made one different, but he didn't comment on the fact. She still had an air of naivety about her, as she should. He figured she couldn't be much more than the age he was when he was Embraced. He remembered what it was like to be that age. He had been full of naivety... and arrogance, but adament he was anything but. It was naivity that had him following that man in the palace in the first place. He had been young and stupid, and although on his exterior he was still that age, he had many, many years to shake it. "I would not know, mon cherie. I have never been a daughter," he quipped and held his glass up to her in a small toast before he took a sip. "Or a father. Fate is subjective. You live believing fate already has it all mapped out for you, there is no point in thinking and feeling for yourself. You are never going to reach what you truly desire anyway, for fate is apparently someone else's want. But to each his own. I personally believe that fate is conneries. An excuse, shall we say." He placed his glass down on the table and picked up his gloves. "I must go. Excusez-moi, cherie. Désolé. I am starting to feel the need for sleep. It has been a long day indeed. Allow me to pay for a taxi home for you, as gratitude for an interesting conversation. I do not believe fate would want you catching your death in cold," he added with an amused smirk and slipped a fifty pound note from his wallet and handed it to her.
Buffy looked down at the money and gave a shake of her head. "That's okay, the conversation was for free. I'm fine for getting myself home. You bought the wine. We'll call it even for now. You should just go and get some beauty sleep. Not that you really need it. I mean, you're just naturally ridiculously handsome. It's fine, really. Keep your money." She pushed Blaise's hand and the note back towards him. Even if she had enjoyed their strange time together she didn't want to take his money. It just felt like it was that little bit too much. "We'll just say screw fate for now, and I'll risk the cold. Thanks for the drink, and thanks for putting up with me, Blaise. It was a real pleasure to meet you."
Blaise was more than offended when she didn't take the gesture. He pursed his lips together slightly and took the money back with a small nod. "Bonsoir, mademoiselle, enjoy your fate," he said, unable to completey hide the small sneer behind the words. With another smirk, he turned and left bar without looking back. He was more than glad Bastille Day was over.
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