[ Active / Closed ] Caught in the crossfire

[knightscode]

It's been a complicated few months for Lancelot.

As a Guardian, it isn't terribly great to know one of the Night Council has 'vanished' under mysterious circumstances. Gilbert Norrell may not have been a personal favourite of his, but he was still someone the Guardians were there to protect. Moreover, the investigation is going slowly.

Which is also not brilliant, considering he'd just been promoted.

As both a Police Officer and a Guardian both, there's little Lancelot likes less than the feeling of a dead end.

Then, of course, there's the vampire problem.

Lancelot thinks he can be forgiven for feeling a touch bitter over that.

Richmond -- Early August, Closed to Natasha

Lancelot is starting to feel more than uneasy about what is happening with Islington.

Especially since he has unwittingly helped create the current situation.

He dislikes feeling used, and even if he has managed to fend them off once from taking back the territory he took the loss of trust is something that stings.

Jean-Claude makes him feel uneasy. He'd liked him at first, the man had even saved him. Yet everything that came after makes Lancelot wonder if he has trusted too easily. What the vampire has told him is true -- in comparison surely he is far from the worst one, but then again perhaps that is only because Lancelot has not seen him at his worse. Perhaps he is being fooled all over again.

What he needs is someone who better understands vampires than he does, which is honestly not difficult. Yet... equally, there is someone he can think of.

Although most likely this isn't what she'd been thinking of when he'd offered to meet her.

He's standing outside the small, brightly coloured shop with one hand shoved into the pockets of faded jeans. The sun is long set, but the place is open until midnight -- although Lancelot suspects the fact that this caters to the supernatural community is entirely unintentional. Lily is sat pressed up against his legs, leaning slightly into him as his free hand ruffles her white fur. She's the first to sense Natasha approaching, and looks around before pushing to all fours -- tail beginning to swish up over her back. Lancelot looks up in turn, brightens a little at the sight of her and offers a small smile.

Then he belatedly realises he's standing in front of a small frozen yogurt shop and looks back at it self-consciously for a second before offering her a shrug.

"I hope it's everything you thought it would be," he says, and his lips twitch in barely repressed amusement.

Southwark -- backdated to June / Closed to Faolan.


Lancelot is more than a little surprised he actually won, but he's not arguing with it.

Now, though, as adrenaline begins to wear off all the cuts and scrapes he's wearing begin to hurt and as he looks down at himself... Lancelot can't help but laugh a little.

He looks like he belongs on the cover of some utterly ridiculous romance novel, shirt sliced and covered with blood. Doesn't help that it's a white shirt. Why did he wear a white shirt? He wasn't thinking, that's why, he was too angry to think. Sighing a little he tries to work out the best way to get home like this. He'll be stared at if he takes public transport. Maybe a taxi would be more forgiving.

With a heavy sigh he plods his way back toward the gaggle of Daybreak witches -- then catches sight of something out of the corner of his eye.

Faolan? Of all people -- well, Lancelot would have dragged him into such a thing once upon a time but... Faolan is now the leader of Hillingdon, and already has enough political complication without looking as if he's assisting in a Daybreak claim.

Lancelot blinks at him a moment before frowning and beginning to cautiously step over.

"If you're looking to help," he begins slowly, "you're a little late now. I'm afraid it appears to be over."

Comments

[reticence]

Faolan shrugs absently in response to the other man's explanation of what might make things difficult for them, only just keeping himself from raising an eyebrow at that last part as well (does he really think that matters, all things considered). He bites his lip for a moment, moving to shake his head before he turns to look up at Lancelot himself.

"Tell me you're not interested, and I will accept that," he says. Keeping his voice quiet, as if afraid he might break this spell otherwise. "Tell me... You're not interested in men, or that. You'll never see me in such a way. I will accept that too. But none of the rest of that matters here, Lancelot, no more than it does to our friendship. So please... If that is what's holding you back..." Faolan trails off unsteadily. It's taking a lot for him, even to be as bold as this.

[knightscode]

"I mattes to me, Faolan. It might matter to you if you really thought about it too. It all changes things."

He takes a deep breath, lets it out in a heavy sigh and rubs his forehead.

"Do we have to do this now? It's just..."

Just that he's tired, covered in cuts and bruises, all of that. Lancelot gestures vaguely at himself to encompass this, offers a wincing smile.

"I'd like to think about things properly, rather than... well, not."

[reticence]

Faolan glances at Lancelot, at the state he's in, before shaking his head slightly. "No," he responds, deflating somewhat as he does. "We don't have to talk about this now." He isn't sure when he'll ever be able to bring it up again -- he only seems to be able to bring it up at the worst of times all things concidered. He only seems capable of making mistakes, it would seem. Of exasperating the other man, pushing him into situations and conversations he would rather avoid. It's no wonder that Lancelot hasn't agreed to anything yet.

He turns back to the supplies as he had done before, moving to gather them up to bring them back to the medicine cabinet in his bathroom. Quietly wondering to himself as he does at how the other man can build him up so high and make him feel like such an idiot at the same time.

[knightscode]

"Thank you," Lancelot says in relief, and rubs at his face as he shifts to get more comfortable. "I don't suppose I can still get that drink?"

And, well, a shirt that might fit -- but if he has to pick one of the two he's somewhat leaning toward a drink right now. Especially after all the conversation that came on top of everything else.

[reticence]

"Yeah, of course," he responds, gathering the supplies in hand and glancing back at the other man. Trying not to take it to heart how relieved he seems to let it go for now. He's had a long day, that's it, he thinks to himself, as he pads into his bedroom and tosses it all on the bed. He'll sort it out later.

"Do you have a preference?" he calls out, moving towards his bureau and starting to dig. A drink will go easier if Lancelot's got a shirt on, after all. He's sure that the other man will feel better for having it and Faolan perhaps will be more consciencious of the words coming out of his mouth if he does. He's sure that he has something that'd fit Lancelot, and he finds it after a moment in the shape of a free handout from a gym, shaking it out to make certain that it's not in terrible condition before returning to the kitchen with it for Lancelot.

"Here," he says, handing it to the other man before moving to lean against the counter, a safe distance away.

[knightscode]

He takes it and just holds it a moment, rubbing the fabric between his fingers like some sort of touchstone. As if it might ground him and help him cope with this.

"Something... strong, I suppose? While bearing in mind I don't drink much."

As Faolan well knows, having seen the minimal supplies in his flat.

[reticence]

Faolan huffs something of a laugh in response to that, recalling the amaretto that the other man had served him at one point. No, he supposes he knows that Lancelot doesn't drink all that much, all things considered.

"Strong I can do," Faolan replies, turning to the cabinet behind him and, after a moment's consideration, bringing down a bottle of spiced rum and a glass tumbler for it. "I can put ice in the glass if you like?" he asks, turning back to the other man and raising his eyebrows slightly, uncertain whether Lancelot even knows whether he'd like that or not. "It'll cut the flavor a little," he elaborates slightly.

[knightscode]

"Please, if you have some."

If nothing else, a cool drink in this summer heat sounds good.

"I shouldn't drink too much, though, or I'll be falling asleep. You might not mind but I think Lily would."

[reticence]

"Unless the freezer has given out, there should be some," Faolan replies, shifting to open it and retrieve an ice cube from the drawer. He drops it in the glass before screwing off the top of the bottle of rum and pouring the other man a healthy glass.

"Here," he says, setting it down and sliding it across his little kitchen table towards him before turning to pour himself a healthy glass of his own. Notably without the ice, but Faolan wants to feel the heat of the spice. Take his mind off of the hole he has dug for himself.

"Don't worry about getting home tonight," he says, settling down opposite the other man and then speaking up to elaborate, lest Lancelot start getting any ideas of what he's trying to say. "I may not be able to promise you home before midnight," considering it's already passed, "but I'll see that you get there, one way or another."

[knightscode]

Lancelot takes another deep breath, lets it out slowly and picks up the drink to take a quick sip. He blinks at the strength of it, takes a second to decide how he feels about that before setting the glass down and tugging the t-shirt Faolan handed to him on.

"If you don't, Lily will probably have something to say about it."

Straightening the t-shirt vaguely he offers Faolan a faint smile, a little hopeful. As if half questioning if they're still allowed to joke like this after all the drama.

[reticence]

Faolan's eyes fall to the center of the table in the face of the other man's questioning smile. There's something about the fact that Lancelot has to question whether he's allowed to lighten the mood in the first place that stings. The knowledge that it's his fault, perhaps. That makes it sting most of all.

Still, he would never want the other man to caution himself, not around him. Not because of him. So he does his best to rally himself, taking a sip of his drink before he replies, "You know, somehow I don't find myself feeling particularly threatened by that."

[knightscode]

"You should. She's a man-eating dog, in case you've forgotten. You've only ever seen the nice side of her. She's a terror when upset."

Although, somehow, the idea of Lily -- white, fluffy Samoyed who shies from surprises and loud noises -- being a man-eating dog and a terror is perhaps a little hard to sell.

Not that he expects Faolan to believe him, but still.

[reticence]

Faolan hums slightly under his breath. "I'm sure," he says, sitting back in his chair. "I can only imagine the shedding."

He gives the other man a wry look, before he takes another sip of his drink. Yes, as a matter of fact he's finding that he can still banter with him. But there's a part of him that wonders whether it is strange for Lancelot. After all -- it is for the other man that everything has changed. Faolan has had time to adjust to and settle down into his feelings for the other man himself, after all.

He wonders whether it's because Lancelot hasn't said no that he's still even allowed as much. He wonders -- not for the first nor the last time that day -- why he hasn't turned him down. And then he shuts down that train of thought for the moment. It's not going to do him any good in the here and now.

[knightscode]

He laughs at that, even if it is a little tired sounding, drops his eyes to his drink and smirks a little as considers it.

"You probably can't," he says honestly, "you wouldn't believe it unless you saw it, I think. I can brush enough fur out of her for an entire second dog and she'll still have some left."

It's a lot of fur. He's often wondered if he should see if something can be done with it. Dog wool? Dog fur stuffed pillows instead of feathers?

"I should make you help one day. Then you can see for yourself."

[reticence]

"Perhaps you should," Faolan considers. "I've already helped with bathing her, might as well give me the full picture of it. Life with Dog." What other troubles can you come up with to put me through to try and unsuccessfully change my mind in wanting to be there with you, Faolan thinks but does not say aloud. He's only just got him laughing again after all.

"Believe it or not, I have faced more precarious situations," he replies instead. "I think you'll find me more than up to the challenge."