03: Fate forbids what you pursue [visual | location: Mick's apartment]
For Mick, the past week had passed in a blur of activity. Early morning saw him barricading the windows to keep out as much sunlight as possible, and his Extra neighbors had complained greatly to the Extra who kept tabs on everyone in the building. He'd been issued a warning, and informed that two more strikes meant he had to leave
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Martha hadn't been expecting this. She hadn't expected the attacker to reveal himself and she certainly hadn't expected him to be sorry for what he'd done. The figure on the screen - pale and weary and covered in something that seemed to be ice - looked like a patient as well as a threat.
"You're a vampire."
But nothing like the vampires that had terrorised the city in the past.
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Blood.
He shuddered, nodding, lips twisting in some strange mix of shame and relief. "I'm a vampire. I haven't-- I--, the hatches aren't working. I didn't mean to hurt them, but the hatches--"
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The Doctor would have found a way to save him.
"Then we'll find a different way to help you," she vowed, "It's going to be ok."
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"I don't know if you'll h-have a choice. I'm losing control. It's-- it's only a matter of time before I...I--"
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This is the asshole who'd been all smiley-skeptic about vampires when he'd first told him about them.
Maybe the guy's glitched, like Dawn was? Who the fuck knows, but Paul finds himself having had it up to here. Irritatedly, he punches buttons on the tablet to reply.
"Ah, so now you've heard of vampires. I appreciate the info on how to protect ourselves. Not so much you waiting until you're essentially a mad-dog junkie, but what the hell.
"I don't know if you've pegged it yet, but they can and do bring us back. Even if we kill you it might not solve anything, so how about we drop the martyr bullshit, mmkay?"
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"I'm sorry I lied," he says, hesitating a glance at the other man over the tablet. "It's habit, it's-- You don't survive if you don't. I thought..."
I don't know what I thought. That I could just go on like normal? Like nothing happened? Like I could forget about everything and start fresh? Whatever I thought, I was wrong.
"I didn't think it would be a problem. No one needed to know, it's my b--hhh, business, but the hatches don't work."
The last bit is said in the disbelieving tone of voice universally known to mean 'it's not fair'. "I didn't want to hurt anyone, you have t-to believe me."
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"And we're in a closed system. It is absolutely our goddamn business if you need to drink blood, cupcake.
"Frankly, the only reason I'm still talking to you right now is that I do. Happen to believe you. Listen, I can grok you can't help it, that it's a ... compulsion or what the fuck ever. Fine. How much do you need? Regularly?"
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While Katherine had decided to give up protecting her secret at all costs in Taxon a while ago, it might be useful to keep that from the general public a bit longer; hence, she locks the feed.
"Someone's been a naughty boy," she smirks, an undertone of dark, predatory curiosity to her voice that belies her youthful human features. "Not such a nice guy, after all -- or perhaps you are. Is that the reason you went after the bland Extras and not the genuine articles with ( ... )
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But all Mick can think is Oh God not another one. "It's not a joke," he stutters out. "And I don't want to hurt anyone. I mmm--"
His face twists, head ducking away from the limited range of the tablet, just briefly. "I mean it. I don't usually, uh, I mean-- I get my supply from the morgue. Usually."
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"God, you're one of those types," she finally scoffs, rolling her brown eyes. Like Stefan, so guilt-ridden over his blood lust. "And now, overcome with remorse, you're... what? Trying to turn yourself into a Popsicle?"
She sniffs distastefully, either at the mention of the morgue or Mick's unusual location. "Each to their own, I guess. Why didn't you hatch blood bags? The ones used in hospitals for transfusions and such?"
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He scoffs, opting for not telling the girl his every secret. That can get messy, and very fast. "And for the record, I did."
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She hadn't many theories. She hasn't been in Taxon all that long, and figured some nasty the aliens dredged up was out making stuffing out of the witless Extras. Nowhere in her mind had she thought pale, handsome little Mickey Mouse was the dirty deed doer. And a lot less stable then she remembered Angel to be. Geez. Could her taste in men suck any more?
"How about electrocution?" She's just kidding, Mick, and it's clear she's not taking you as seriously as she should. But she does eye the tablet and you very curiously.
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Gwen, who both reminds him and doesn't of another girl and another place (or more than one girl and place, depending on his frame of mind), whose wit and charm more than make up for the drab, dreary reality of being stuck in an alien prison.
Of course she would have to see him at his finest hour. "Gwen..." He swallows, eyebrows knitting into another look of shame or something closely related. I'm sorry
I'm--
I
"Are, are you serious?"
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Is she serious? Is he serious?
"Kind of," she admits, looking down and away. Subject change now, Gwen. Her little 'gift' isn't something she minds boasting about now and then, but for some reason, she'd always found a way to dance around that little quirk in her conversations with Mick. He thought she was just a normal girl and she indulged in the fantasy. Irony always had a way of having the last laugh ( ... )
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Then, whimsy or something else propels him to pick up the tablet and pan it from right to left down the length of his so called bed.
"I don't know if you can s-see much, but... It's a freezer. One of those, uh, boxes. Chests."
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He could only hope Helen was prepared to help the man out really. But he did have to ask here, because if he didn't then what good was trying to help the man?
"You say you are sorry, however would you accept any help given to you and inform them if you were having difficulties?" His voice is even, calm, and he looks it as well. Nothing worse then being skittish around an already skittish man.
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Funny how a case of starving coupled with slowly burning up from the inside out will mess with your faculties.
"...huh?"
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He says it slowly, calmly. The man after all is going through a rather traumatic time in his life, snapping his head off does not work. So he just watches Mick, as calm and in control as possible.
"And, did you by chance lose anything recently?"
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He would. If he thought he had any other option, he would do anything to get his hands on it.
And then, the other man poses a question he isn't at all expecting. He swallows, shaking his head to clear it. "Yes. A necklace-- I don't know when, but it's gone."
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