Jean-Claude knows that Raymond is no fool. It's how he has come this far in life already. But he knows too that he must outwit him if he wants to stand any chance of winning this fight tonight. And thus, sacrifices must be made. Sacrifices not entirely all his own.
He raises his hands before him to appease the chanting crowd and let it be known that he will not protest this offering. "What a generous gift, monsieur!" he calls out, not only to Raymond but the audience around them. He lets his fangs extend in answer to the excitement of the crowd. He needs to demonstrate that he has not done anything to this blood. That he will not be offing the Duke with poison. No, Jean-Claude has a far more dramatic end in mind for him. "I will do my best not to let it go to waste!"
He steps closer to where the guard is holding Eames with his throat exposed to him and reaches out to cup the fae man's jaw and turn his head further sideways still. He hopes that Eames understands he has no choice in the matter. This is not about his blood, or his pride. This is about the means to an end, and if this is what it takes than so be it. What's a little blood donated to the cause? And if he does not? Well, he can hear about it later. Provided they both survive this encounter.
With the flash of white teeth, Jean-Claude lowers his head and sinks his fangs into Eames' neck, doing his best to hold onto himself in the moment as the sweet, heady rush of fae blood spills into his mouth. He needs to keep his head in this, and he cannot do so if he allows himself too much. But he is a vampire, and he cannot help the fact that the rush of it across his tongue, the slight struggling against his body and the smell of Eames' fear, of his anger, only serves to excite him further. It is all he can do to tear himself away just on the edge of being drunk from his magic, and he lifts his head to the ceiling and hisses, his true face on display for all to see before him.
"My dear Duke!" Jean-Claude calls out. "I fear that I must stop myself before I drink too much and spoil your offering!" A trail of blood rolls down his chin, and when he speaks his lips and teeth are covered in it, and if there were any doubt he has tasted of the fae there should be none now. He reaches out to pry Eames out of the guard's grip and 'restrain' him for himself, swaying on his feet slightly as he does, and not entirely for show either. "Come, monsieur! Let us not let this bounty go to waste!"
He steps forward with the fae man held close to him, but not as tightly as the guard might have done. If plans have come to fruition he knows Eames' bonds are not as tight as they seem after all, and if he wants for him to be his own distraction then he needs to stay out of his way.
no subject
He raises his hands before him to appease the chanting crowd and let it be known that he will not protest this offering. "What a generous gift, monsieur!" he calls out, not only to Raymond but the audience around them. He lets his fangs extend in answer to the excitement of the crowd. He needs to demonstrate that he has not done anything to this blood. That he will not be offing the Duke with poison. No, Jean-Claude has a far more dramatic end in mind for him. "I will do my best not to let it go to waste!"
He steps closer to where the guard is holding Eames with his throat exposed to him and reaches out to cup the fae man's jaw and turn his head further sideways still. He hopes that Eames understands he has no choice in the matter. This is not about his blood, or his pride. This is about the means to an end, and if this is what it takes than so be it. What's a little blood donated to the cause? And if he does not? Well, he can hear about it later. Provided they both survive this encounter.
With the flash of white teeth, Jean-Claude lowers his head and sinks his fangs into Eames' neck, doing his best to hold onto himself in the moment as the sweet, heady rush of fae blood spills into his mouth. He needs to keep his head in this, and he cannot do so if he allows himself too much. But he is a vampire, and he cannot help the fact that the rush of it across his tongue, the slight struggling against his body and the smell of Eames' fear, of his anger, only serves to excite him further. It is all he can do to tear himself away just on the edge of being drunk from his magic, and he lifts his head to the ceiling and hisses, his true face on display for all to see before him.
"My dear Duke!" Jean-Claude calls out. "I fear that I must stop myself before I drink too much and spoil your offering!" A trail of blood rolls down his chin, and when he speaks his lips and teeth are covered in it, and if there were any doubt he has tasted of the fae there should be none now. He reaches out to pry Eames out of the guard's grip and 'restrain' him for himself, swaying on his feet slightly as he does, and not entirely for show either. "Come, monsieur! Let us not let this bounty go to waste!"
He steps forward with the fae man held close to him, but not as tightly as the guard might have done. If plans have come to fruition he knows Eames' bonds are not as tight as they seem after all, and if he wants for him to be his own distraction then he needs to stay out of his way.