Once you're lost in twillights's blue

[knightscode]

Closed to Faolan: Night-time Walk
If he has meant to or not, Lancelot has found himself associating more and more with people like him.

People with abilities, or knowledge of them. People who know about witches and ghosts, fae and doorways. People who know these things exist not just in films and TV shows and books, but in the shadows around them.

Lancelot had never expected to be anything special, to be anything other than what he is. After all, what qualities does Lancelot have? He's a Community Officer, he loves his dog, he goes to work like anyone else and comes home and goes to bed. His life is hardly rife with excitement and adventure.

Or at least, it hadn't been.

He's thinking about this one evening, having belatedly realised he'll need to run back out to the shops to get a few things. He leaves Lily behind, not meaning to be long, and cuts up a few side roads to get to the supermarket before it closes.

That's when he hears the sound. It sounds like a dog distantly, he thinks, the clack-clack of a big dog's claws on pavement. He glances back idly, but ignores it, expecting someone was out walking their dog late.

Something makes his hackles rise, some sense telling him to run. Making his pulse pick up.

He starts to walk faster, and the animal does too.

That answers the question. Lancelot breaks into a run, and tries to remember the quickest route to somewhere with a gate he can close.


Open: A Day-time Investigation

Lancelot is bruised, a little jumpy, but he's alive -- and now he's somewhat determined to prove what was chasing him.

He's dressed down in jeans and a t-shirt, sleeves pushed up as he re-walks the path from the night before with his Lily at his side. The fluffy white Samoyed may not be the world's best hunting dog, but she has a good sense of smell. Far better than his by any estimation. He frowns at the ground as he walks, looking for anything -- fur, blood, scraps of something from the fight. Anything that might help him work out what attacked him, if it was truly a werewolf. Anything that might help track such a thing, or that might tell him if it was alone.

Pausing at the sight of something he crouches down, frowning at a dark patch on the pavement and trying to replay the scenario in his head. Perhaps if he could get someone to run a trace -- would such a thing even work? Could the blood of a werewolf be traced? Would it match the human before they shifted? Would that even help? He lets out a sigh and reaches out to ruffle Lily as she sniffs at it. At the rate they were going, it was most definitely going to be a long day.

Comments

[knightscode]

"You are hardly to blame, Faolan. You did not seek me out. It was my choice to help you, and my own efforts that drew attention to me."

He shrugs, sips his drink and offers a thin smile.

"Perhaps that is the real reason I feel so ill at ease," he offers, a fraction more lightly. "I am not used to so much attention, let alone people chasing me down the street. I suppose I should be flattered."

[reticence]

Faolan lets out a rough bark of laughter. "Flattered? For nearly being eaten? All because of your vague association with me? If you say so..." He raises the drink himself, taking a healthy swallow -- definitely more than the sip that the other man had. He sighs heavily, leaning forward on the table in front of him, reaching a hand up to run across his face, scratching his fingers through the stubble there. God, he hopes he hasn't just led anyone straight to this man's door. Wouldn't that be just his luck.

"I would ask if it should make you think twice about the next time you might stop and help a stranger on the road, but..." He sizes the other man up. "From what I can tell about you, I don't think even this would keep you from such things." He lets out another slightly self-deprecating laugh. "This might be the only drink I get to share with you though, if this is the luck I bring you."

[knightscode]

Lancelot is about to carry on his idle quip about positive and negative attention when.. when Faolan sighs, rubs his face, and something about his tone takes all the attempt at humour from him.

This might be the only drink I get to share with you though, if this is the luck I bring you.

He frowns at that, a touch guarded, and flexes his fingers around his own glass.

"I'd rather think of it the first of many," he counters, "and if you're to bring me bad luck we can make a habit of stopping for a drink afterwards. A little more cheerful than thinking it'll be our only chance."

[reticence]

Faolan glances up at the other man at that, uncertain in that moment himself. He's certainly never had a home insist on being friends with him, associating with him at least, especially not after nearly having gotten killed for it. At least, not that he can recall, at any rate. "That depends on whether you would welcome such a thing, I suppose," he says, shrugging after a moment. "And if you would like for it to be a drink," he adds, after a moment's pause. He quirks something of a smile at the other man again. "You keep suggesting such things, and yet. Something tells me you are not nearly as much an enthusiast as that."

He raises his eyebrows at him over the rim of his glass as he raises it to take another sip. Over the rim of his glass of amaretto. Amaretto that Lancelot had found in the corner of a cooking cabinet, for that matter. He figures his point will be made as well as it can be, in that gesture. "You needn't keep offering such things, if it's only on my account." Though he has to wonder what had him offering such things to him in the first place. Simply because it was done? Or did he simply seem the sort to appreciate such a gesture? (Possibly because in truth, he was.)

[knightscode]

"Well, perhaps not on my own. I prefer to do such things with others. I like company. Especially company that understands me."

He shrugs a little, offers a tiny smile.

"It isn't on your account, I assure you. Why would I pretend such a thing? I needn't have invited you in if I didn't want to. I did. You listened. Surely that is enough of a reason?"

[reticence]

Faolan raises his eyebrows slightly. It's possibly obvious that he's not used to this whole 'making friends' sort of a thing. "I will leave that decision up to you," he says. "I'm certainly not going to tell you to turn me out now." He quirks the corners of his mouth up in something of a smile. "Not before having finished my drink, at least."

He thinks that the other man might be a little bit too nice. That he may be a little bit too forgiving, and that if he's not careful, that's going to get him into a lot of trouble with the supernatural community. But it's been a long time since Faolan's had anything he could even remotely consider friendship, so he's certainly not going to turn this opportunity down. Even if there's a little voice in his head that says he'll be nothing but trouble for the other man.

[knightscode]

Lancelot drops his eyes at that, nods as he toys with his drink.

"Well," Lancelot says quietly, "you are welcome to stay long enough to finish your drink, and for another if you wish. I will not say no to the company."

He lifts his eyes, smile fading to something a little haunted still as he studies Faolan. Lily shoves her face into his lap and he drops a hand to her, soothes fingers through her fur as she considers him with doggy concern -- tail swishes over her back almost questioningly. Something is wrong! Can she help? She will help, if she can!

"Not that Lily is not good company," he amends, "but her conversation is somewhat lacking."

Lancelot takes a deep breath, lets it out in a heavy sigh and offers another weak smile. No, Faolan can stay as long as he wishes. Lancelot is glad of the distraction, and Faolan is not bad company. Having someone who understands such things to talk to is a welcome thing, and Lancelot does not think he would like to be alone with his thoughts right now.