[OPEN]

[baisant]

A. GUILTY PLEASURES
Jean-Claude sits at his usual place at the corner of the bar at Guilty Pleasures. However, that's probably the only normal thing about it. Where he would normally be surveying the crowd, trying to ascertain whether the crowd is enjoying itself and trying to do what he can to see that they do if not, he has other things on his mind at the moment. There are hunters in Islington, attacking his people. Raymond had formed an alliance with Midnight, and then Redbright had called in her dogs and effectively eradicated them.

Jean-Claude is willing to bet that Raymond isn't going to be happy about this. He's just waiting for the next pin to drop. And questioning what there is exactly to do about it. And when. When should he make his move. When should he gather his people and put a stop to this. Preferably before they come to regret not having done so. But only hindsight will allow them such knowledge, and Jean-Claude is not about to make the same mistake twice.

He will admit, however, it's making him very distracted. And nowhere near as fun as he normally is.


B. A BREATH OF FRESH AIR
There's only so long that Jean-Claude can dwell by himself in his own club before he recognizes that the patrons might catch on that something is the matter, and so it is that he decides to go for a walk. To try and clear his head, or that's the idea at least. It is more accurate to say, as Jean-Claude makes his way through the streets of London, tugging his frock coat closer against himself against the night air, that at least he's getting his heavy thoughts out of his club and away from public view.

He is perhaps thinking a little too hard for the environment he finds himself in. But he doesn't exactly anticipate that he should be running into anyone to interrupt his thoughts. Not at such a time of night, not in such a place as this. Perhaps he should have been paying more attention, however. If he had then he might have remembered the mention of hunters in the territory and therefore been instantly more aware of his surroundings and the people -- or creatures -- he may find around him.

But he had excused himself and his thoughts out of the club for a reason, and as such is entirely unaware of whoever he might run into on such a night as this.


C. Choose your own adventure!
Do we have another reason to thread? Just write your intro here! And/or hit me up via PM/plurk @ lycanthropy101 to talk it out! c:

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[baisant]

Jean-Claude, for his part, seems relatively unphased by the entire situation, now that he has reassured himself that he does not after all have to defend himself in any way. Indeed, he probably should be a little more concerned and finding himself sprawled on his back with another man straddling his chest. Then again, he has lived through many another occasion of another man straddling his chest, and not all of them have been entirely unpleasant circumstances.

He smiles up at the other man as if by sheer force of will he might implant such wicked thoughts into his head without explicitly stating them, tilting his head to the side slightly as he looks up at him and replies, "Forgive me for saying so, but the manner of delivery of your greetings may require some work." Indeed, this is Nest territory. Jean-Claude is the Marquess of Islington. He has by that authority every right to be out and about on such streets. He might ask the other man much the same himself, if he weren't otherwise busy being tackled and sat upon.

[dirtyredneck]

It didn't answer his question, but it did earn Jean-Claude a frown of further confusion for a couple moments. Then Daryl snorted and glanced away in lieu of rolling his eyes. The thumb wrapped up in Jean-Claude's shirt started tapping idly while he brought his other one up to his mouth to chew on. It dropped away quickly and Daryl's eyes returned to the man underneath him a little more properly.

Guy was staring at him weird. Daryl wasn't sure why, but it made him uncomfortable and after another long moment he shifted his weight to slide off and give Jean-Claude room to stand up.

"Hi." Daryl eventually grunted. Then immediately followed it up with a repeat of his question: "The hell you doing here? Ain't you supposed to be locked up in that club of yours?"

[baisant]

Jean-Claude takes the time to push himself up and brush his coat off before he answers the other man's questions. Partially because they're still silly questions. Partially because he figures, given the fact that he was just bodily tackled to the ground a few moments earlier, he figures that he is allowed.

"I was unaware that being the proprietor of an establishment required a person to find themselves shackled to it," he says, glancing up at the other man, sardonically. He had come out to take a bit of a walk. Clear his head. "I certainly had not had this in mind when first I set forth this evening, if that's what you mean."

[dirtyredneck]

"You're supposed to be runnin' it," Daryl defended, feeling just a little stupid for the asking. Now. If Jean-Claude wasn't there, he wasn't running the place. The logic followed. Sort of.

Another moment passed and Daryl's eyes darted to the side as he crossed his arms, "Wasn't after you."

[baisant]

Jean-Claude raises his eyebrows at the shifter slightly. "No, you were after my people," he says, and those are the only words which may or may not have some weight to them before he is back to his usual smirking, flirting self.

"I was not aware that my position in the nest would mean that I was not at liberty to go for a walk down one of my own streets," he comments, lips quirking at the other man. "How kind of you to point these things out to me in such a way, however."

[dirtyredneck]

He went completely still at the weighted words, shoulders stiffening and clenching tighter. Giving more definition the the muscles of his arms before he forced them to relax. He had no reason to feel ashamed of hunting the other vampires. The nest was full of assholes who'd enjoyed catching and killing wolves and shifters alike and then cheering on their tortured deaths in the pit fights they'd put on. Daryl had every right to hunt them down.

Daryl's shoulders crept right back up toward his ears, making him look more like a petulant child than a man full of righteous anger on a murder spree. The slightly huffy way he responded didn't help, either.

"Just thought people who ran businesses were supposed to be there. It's your job, ain't it? You got a job, you do it." Yeah, that sounded bad to him, too. But it was all he had.

Why the fuck did being around this guy make him feel so unsure? He wasn't even in the strip joint this time.

[baisant]

Jean-Claude keeps his brows raised at the other man in turn. Of course it sounds bad to Daryl. It sounds bad in general. And Jean-Claude makes certain to let him know as much as well.

"I am the owner of a business," he replies. "That does not mean I must remain shackled to it. I have a Front of House, they manage well enough for me in my absence." He tilts his head at the other man, curiously. "There is more to me than Guilty Pleasures, mon ami," he points out, his lips quirking slightly at the double entendre that the name of the club provides. His eyes twinkling mischievously enough to make sure that Daryl catches on to the double entendre himself as well.

[dirtyredneck]

Daryl definitely caught the double entendre there and his expression soured further. Had it been someone as crass as his brother saying something like that, he'd have told them to shut up or cut it out. But Jean Claude wasn't exactly that sort of man. He could be be a bit lewd, clearly, but it wasn't about rubbing it in someones face or trying to get a rise out of them.

Though Daryl wasn't exactly sure why Jean-Claude was going to the effort of saying his business name like that with just the two of them around. Unless he was just trying to make Daryl uncomfortable. And if that was the case, Daryl was going to do his best not to give him the satisfaction.

He acted like he missed it entirely, ignored it as he crossed his arms and went to lean against the wall, "Fine. You can take a break. Why you doin' that out here? Allyways don't really seem the sort of place a guy like you'd go to stretch his legs."

[baisant]

Jean-Claude cocks his head to the side at the other man, his expression quizzical. "And what sort of a place might 'a guy like me' seek out instead, then?" he questions, casually, but he will push until he has an answer. He realizes he is putting Daryl on the spot, but he does not care. He wants to know what he thinks of him. Wants to know what sort of ideas he has of his dealings. In his own words, no less. It's only fair, after all. Isn't it?

[dirtyredneck]

Daryl squirmed a little and averted his gaze, going so far as to turn his head. Very uncomfortable at being put on the spot, but not getting to the point of being angry because he knew it was his fault for not thinking most of this through first.

"A fancy bar at a hotel, art gallery opening, something like that." He mumbled the words, but not so much they wouldn't be clear as day to either of their kind. "Not a dirty alley in the middle of... practically no where."

[baisant]

Jean-Claude cannot help but chuckle softly, shaking his head in response to the other man's suggestions. "Well, I will admit that I do enjoy the ballet, every now and again," he says. "You must think very highly of me though, to put me in such places as that. A gallery? Oh, mon ami, I do not know the slightest thing about art these days."

He wants to say that he was probably born poorer than anyone Daryl has ever known, and that he is only where he is because he has worked hard to get there and worked hard to pretend that he's better than he is. But to say as much is to give away far too many secrets. So he shakes his head again. "You must have a very high opinion of me indeed," he says instead.

[dirtyredneck]

Daryl's eyes drifted up to stare at Jean-Claude's face for a long moment that quickly stretched into uncomfortably long. But he broke it with a soft 'pfft' and looked away like that statement was only a half-way decent joke. He didn't think that highly of the guy. Just took in the clues to how he dressed and acted and came to a conclusion.

"You wish," he said with another huff of air that was closer to a laugh. He was clearly making assumptions about backgrounds and privileges here.

[baisant]

"Oh?" Jean-Claude tilts his head at the other man, offering him something of his own brand of wide-eyed perplexion. "Perhaps you would care to enlighten me then, mon ami." If he does not think that highly of him, perhaps he has something against the rich? The image of class that Jean-Claude represents? Even if it is not quite the niche that he falls into. It is simply difficult to live for over 600 years and not amass a certain wealth to his name. It isn't as though he needs to spend it on common necessities like groceries.

[dirtyredneck]

He felt like he was getting backed into a corner now. Daryl had meant the statement to be a dismissal but the man was just pushing at it. Wasting time with stupid shit. Not that Daryl didn't have the time now with his prey having gone to ground. And it wasn't like he'd been annoyed at the waste when they started talking. But it was getting to the point of being uncomfortable. What did it matter what he thought of Jean-Claude anyway?

Daryl pushed off the wall with a frown and started towards the nearest fire escape, "I don't think shit about you."

[baisant]

Jean-Claude watches him as he turns to walk away. To run away, really. Even if he is only moving at a walking pace.

"Do you really?" he calls out towards the other man, his voice soft but cutting easily through the hush that has fallen over the city at this hour. "I would ask you not to lie to me, mon ami, just because that is an easier answer than the truth."

[dirtyredneck]

Daryl stilled for but a moment before his shoulders hunched and turned to look over his shoulder with clear offense in his eyes. There was soft growl low in his throat as he slowly spun on his heels and stalked right back up to Jean-Claude, staring him in the face. Meeting his eyes without trouble and holding the angry gaze while he wore his temper like a well-fitted work glove.

He leaned in, voice low and just on the edge of threatening, "You callin' me a liar?"

[baisant]

Jean-Claude meets the other man's gaze steadily as Daryl stalks his way back over to him and leans in close to glare at him. He is well over 600 years old, and he is not afraid of this shifter. Though he finds himself intrigued by him. And these days he is not so easily intrigued as one might think.

"Not in the way that you suggest," he replies, keeping his voice soft and just this side of sensual. He need not speak much louder, as they stand so close to one another now. "But I think you lie when you say that you do not think much of me. There must be some reason you spared me from your hunt." He gives the other man a once-over, which is really just a trailing of his eyes, standing as close as they are, before meeting the other man's once more, and continuing, his voice even lower than before. "And such a reason fascinates me, mon ami. As do you." He tilts his head to the side. "Or, should I say, mon chat."

[dirtyredneck]

Daryl's lip curled up on one side as a low, very animalistic, growl left him. But he backed up a heartbeat later, letting his 'you ain't shit' look linger as he spoke.

"You ain't the prey."

It was true enough. Jean-Claude hadn't been who he'd followed. But it was also a way of skirting the truth, too. Since Daryl had given up on getting the exact same target back in his sights as the night had dragged on. Most any vampire would have done just as well. Jean-Claude just happened to fall into that pocket of exceptions.