undergrounds | [ Active / Open ] How long can I neglect me for

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[ Active / Open ] How long can I neglect me for

The month has become a little rough for Lancelot. First there was his suspicions regarding Jean-Claude, then Raymond's declaration, then... then everything got a little worse. It was only a weekend hes spent in the basement with Raymond's lackeys, but he's still recovering from the blood loss -- and it's shaken him more than he'd care to admit.

i) Semi-Open: At Home, Richmond.

For a few days after, Lancelot simply shuts himself in and tries to recharge. He's sore, covered in vampire bites and bruises and a little uneasy still. Lancelot may not have been taken directly from his home, but he wasn't far from it. He still can't be sure if they were watching his house, how long for if they were. If it was chance or luck, if it was planned.

He won't refuse visitors, but in truth Lancelot is rather content with just Lily for company at the moment. His mind is busy, and having lost a fair amount of blood he's also tired.

An awkward amount of time has been spent inventing a passable reason he's in such a state for people he simply can't tell 'oh it was vampires', and that's... difficult. He hates lying. Yet all the same he's managed it, somehow, had to halfway makeup that he's already done something about charging those responsible and he doesn't want to talk about it.

Which just leaves Lancelot standing in his kitchen staring absently at the coffee he's just made, wondering if he can get away with putting some alcohol in it this early in the day. Lily stays pressed to his side like a peculiarly white and fluffy shadow of concern, perhaps wondering what she might be able to do to help.

ii) Open: Night Council territory & various others.

He knows he can't stay at home forever, though. Eventually Lancelot has to go back to work, and he knows the longer he leaves it the harder it will be. So a few days after it Lancelot heads back in, wearing a little more clothing than strictly sensible on a hot day to try and cover up some of the bites and bruises he's sporting. He checks in with all his cases and paperwork in Westminster, picks up a few things and heads out onto the street.

Lily tags along with him for support, so he tries to walk in the shade when he can -- her thick white fur making her suffer a little in the summer. He's pausing by a shop at one point to pour out a little water for her when she nearly trips someone up moving, and Lancelot makes a little ah sound and bodily pulls her closer.

"Forgive me," he says softly, shuffling the bowl so she can lap some of the water up. "She's a little restless in the heat."

Samoyeds are built for Siberia, after all, not for 30°C. The dog fusses to get at the water, leash looping around her a little even as Lancelot looks up to offer an apology smile.

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"Oh--"

Finnick narrowly avoids tripping as he takes a step sideways at the last moment. He's in his own world a lot recently, if the truth be told, and his first instinct is to apologize. He's a little slow to find the words, is all, and the other man speaks first. It's familiar, which is off-putting and comforting at the same time. He should have been prepared - the closer he gets to the Night Council HQ the more magical energy he can feel - but he's been trying to ignore it.

"It's fine," he says finally, "I should have been looking."

It has taken almost all of Faolan's self-control not to insist that he stay by the other man's side since the second they had pulled him from that basement and out of harm's way. He appreciates that Lancelot should want his space and so after he deemed that he'd just about overstayed his welcome and Lancelot had gone from needing his company to needing his absence, he had gone home for a day or so. To sleep in his own bed and leave Lancelot to himself.

It had worked well enough overnight but about partway through the day Faolan finds himself wondering after the man around every other corner of thought. It's the middle of the day, he'll be safe for now, right? Unless they've got daylight rings... But so long as he stays at home he'll be fine, yeah? He doesn't suppose that they had figured out where he'd lived...

Finally once Faolan can't take himself anymore he grabs his keys and jacket, though he hangs it over his arm for now -- it's too warm outside to need it just yet. He thinks about texting to ask Lancelot whether he needs anything as he heads over, but he doesn't. Feeling as though it might be just a little too presumptive of him. He can offer once he gets there. Once he knows whether Lancelot will appreciate the company or not.

As he reaches Lancelot's door and brings a hand up to knock, he considers the fact that maybe he should have texted, at least to warn to expect company. Ah well, he supposes it's too late now.

It's funny, the last time Lancelot spoke to Finnick had been when he was fighting vampires. The memory surfaces quickly and just as quickly Lancelot buries it, drowns it out and the association.

"So should she," he insists, and Lily lifts he head from the water bowl to regard Lancelot and then Finnick finally. Animals are often nervous around fae, but Lily herself is used to the feel of the magic from being with Lancelot. In fact, she has a trace of it around her now too -- although considering they're standing side by side it's probably not that noticeable unless you concentrate. She looks between them a few more times before wagging her tail a little questioningly. Hello, Finnick! Hello! Will you be friends with her?

"You look about how I feel," he says finally, and his lips flick up in a half-smile. Tired, drained, far more interested in laying down and ignoring life.

Finnick huffs a gentle laugh and cracks a smile that doesn't have any heart in it. Annie's been worrying over him endlessly, and watching that is almost as exhausting as life seems to be right now. He knows his mask has been slipping, but he's working on putting it back together. None of that would interest Lancelot though, and the other man probably has wounds that are a lot fresher, so he takes a shot at being sympathetic.

"Annie said you were... missing, for a while," he says carefully, trying to keep his eyes on Lancelot for more than a fraction of a second at a time.

Why is Arthur here?

Well, it's not because he's just that thoughtful. He didn't even remember to bring any wine as a comfort; in fact he only thinks he probably should have brought something just after he knocks on Lancelot's door. Brushing that thought away, he shoves his hands in his pockets and looks up and down the hall, waiting eagerly for the door to be answered. He needs information. He needs to know if there's anything Lancelot learned that could bring a stop to this Harris problem. Every day that goes by it just becomes more pressing, and Arthur would like to help take care of it before something catastrophic happens, if he can.

The knock is answered by the scurrying sound of claws on wooden floors, a muted wuff and the sound of Lancelot gently soothing Lily. He sounds tired even as he does it, drained, and when he answers the door there are still shadows under his eyes.

"Oh," he says, and blinks himself into something like focus. "Hi. Do you..."

Want to come in, he assumes? Has something happened? Or is he just...

Worried. Lancelot's mind manages to glance off the thought, to refuse it, because he doesn't want to accept that anything worth worrying about happened. He's fine.

Missing. Lancelot's eyes flit away uneasily and down to Lily, who still wags happily because she still just wants to be friends.

"Yes," he admits somewhat awkwardly. "Some of Raymond's friends."

Which is the easiest way to say 'Vampires' without actually saying the word out loud.

The knock is answered by the clacking of claws on hardwood floors and a soft wuff from Lily. Lancelot can be heard gently shushing her, trying to edge her back from the door -- then he opens it and blinks out at Arthur. He looks tired, shadows under his eyes that aren't normally there and hair a little ruffled in a way that isn't just heat and humidity. He also looks faintly surprised to see Arthur.

"Hi," he says softly, adjusting his grip on Lily who wags at him. Hello, Arthur! Hello! She has seen you before. "Is something wrong?"

Maybe he needs help with something? Lancelot may have technically taken a day off but if something serious has happened he'd help nonetheless.

Finnick watches him while he answers, and then turns his gaze to Lily, as if she'll help push back some of his own nightmares.

"I'm sorry," he offers after a moment's hesitation, "I went missing too, for a while." He lets out a cold, quiet laugh as he goes on, "a few decades, in fact."

It's harder not to talk about it when he's this tired. The words flow easily, and it's a combination of wanting to show Lancelot that he understands and just a need to get it out there. He couldn't possibly make it known to his whole court; they'd lose respect for him. Lancelot seems like a decent man, not that he can help what he's saying much right now. Whatever has happened to Lancelot is all too familiar.

"You're alive," he adds, almost as a question. He doesn't know if Lancelot thinks that's a good thing or a bad one.

For some reason Arthur didn't anticipate Lancelot looking this way. "No, it--" he starts, and the thought dies and he shakes his head. Wow, he is awful. But the information.

But seriously, he's the worst, he should give Lancelot some space.

"If this is a bad time I can go."

"No, no it's fine. Please -- do you want to come in?"

He takes a step back and ushers Lily aside a little, raising an eyebrow questioningly. Arthur obviously came here for a reason, after all, even if he's having second thoughts. Whatever it is he imagines it's important if he came to Lancelot's house.

Decades? His brow furrows slightly at that. Then again, he supposes decades don't seem as long to the fae, do they? Not when they live as long as they do. So he doesn't push, nods slightly at the question instead.

"I am," he allows. "I have good friends who saw to that."

After all, he can't be entirely sure he would be if he was left in the care of those vampires much longer. They might have kept him alive, for information or bargaining, but they also might have simply removed him as an inconvenience.

"Just for a little while," he says, shaking his head dismissively. He steps inside so Lancelot can close the door, and then he takes a deep, steadying breath. He may as well be up front so Lancelot can kick him straight out if he's not ready to talk.

"I came to ask about Harris."

"Good," Finnick says, nodding to show he really means it. He feels a twinge of jealousy that Lancelot had friends to help him but he dismisses it and keeps it to himself.

He doesn't know where to go from here, and so he glances nervously up and down the road, like he's waiting for someone to come arrest him just for existing in this territory.

"I should leave you be."

Someone that would probably be him if anyone. Lancelot shakes his head slightly, faint frown still in place.

"It's fine," he assures Finnick. "We could get a drink, if you like? There's a few places here."

Places Lily can go, obviously, since those are the ones Lancelot would know best.

Harris.

Oh.

He tilts his head slightly in half-acceptance, pads through the flat to the kitchen and fishes in his cupboards. He hadn't really kept much alcohol in his house before this, something Faolan learnt quickly, but now he has someone and now feels like the time to use it.

"Can I get you something?" he prompts, not quite letting on if he'll talk yet. He's getting to it.

"Hey," Faolan greets in return taking in the other man as he opens the door.

He nods, looking slightly uncertain at the other man as he does. He doesn't want Lancelot to tire himself out fussing over him, not with Lancelot looking as tired as he does already. Lancelot doesn't need to worry about taking care of him, his focus is all on making sure that the other man is taken care of instead.

"If that's alright?" he asks, his voice slightly more soft and hesitant than it otherwise might be. He does want to give Lancelot the chance to turn him away if he doesn't want the company. But he's hoping he won't. He is worried, after all.

"Of course! Here --"

He takes a step back and holds the door open for Faolan to slide past, gently restraining Lily until the door is pushed closed behind the other man. When he finally releases her she bounds to greet him, bouncing slightly on the spot as she vies for his attention. Hello, Faolan! Hello! She is pleased to see you.

"Can I get you something? To drink or eat, that is."

How much he has in the way of good food he isn't entirely sure right now, but there's bound to be something he can put together.

Faolan takes a step inside the door, ducking to greet Lily in turn as she comes bouncing forward. Ruffling her ears and stroking her soft head for a moment before turning his attention back to Lancelot again. Damn, but he really should have brought something with him. Drinks, food, anything.

Faolan understands how taking care of other people seems to make Lancelot happy, but there's something in the principle of it. Lancelot needs his rest, and rest does not include fussing over the likes of Faolan himself. "You don't need to go out of your way for anything," he settles on answering. Which is Faolan's code for, 'Only if you'd already planned on making said food/drink for yourself as well.'

"It's no trouble at all," he answers near enough reflexively, and pads back through to the kitchen. Lily skips after him and he picks up his coffee to cradle in his hands as he thinks. "What would you like? Coffee? Something else? If you haven't had lunch I could make up some sandwiches."

After all, he already has his coffee. He hasn't had lunch himself though, he just hasn't felt that hungry. Maybe sandwiches are a good idea though. Something plain-ish but still filling.

"I could use a coffee," Faolan responds, as he pauses in the doorway to toe off his shoes and then follow after Lancelot into the kitchen area, dropping his jacket across the back of a chair as he does. Watching Lancelot move about the kitchen and trying to study how he might be feeling before he asks and the other man predictably answers that he's fine.

"And I wouldn't say no to a sandwich either," he says, sliding his hands around the edge of the chair, to give himself something to do besides study the other man. "I didn't come over to have you wait on me though. I can help, if you like...?" There's that concern again, slowly creeping its way into his eyes despite Faolan's best efforts to hold it at back.

Finnick hesitates, but he's spent so much time alone recently, he should probably spend time with another living thing for a while. He's even kept Annie at arm's length, relatively speaking, and he's spending far too much time in his own head.

"Yes, I think I would," he says. "Please, lead the way."

Arthur waves him off before he stuffs his hands in his pockets, giving Lancelot a respectful distance.

"I'm fine," he says, "I don't plan to stay long."

Nothing it is. Lancelot sighs a little, because this means he has less time and space to fuss instead of answering directly. He can, though. He can talk. He just needs to circle up to it carefully.

"How much do you know?"

So he can gauge how much he has to say, or if this is just an awful coincidence and Arthur has no idea what happened.

He nods, coaxing Lily closer to his side and beginning picking up the bowl and bottle of water -- stashing them away in his bag before starting to walk. It's easiest to pick a place that he knows is largely regular people, since if he's walking with Finnick then people are less likely to sense what he is and look twice. So Lancelot picks a relatively generic decent-ish gastrpub that he knows won't be bothered about Lily and pushes his way in. It isn't too busy, so it's easy enough to pick a quiet corner and go unbothered. Lancelot shrugs off his jacket and is about to start rolling up his sleeves before he remembers. In the end he just tosses it over the back of a chair and looks up at Finnick curiously.

"What can I get you?"

Lancelot has decided he's paying, largely because it was his dog Finnick nearly tripped over. That counts as a reason.

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[ Active / Open ] How long can I neglect me for

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