If I Were A Painting... [OPEN]

[baisant]

Jean-Claude sits in the office of Guilty Pleasures, staring down at the account book laid before him on the desk. He is usually a lot more productive than he finds himself at such a time as this, but the air in the room is somewhat oppressive with the weight of time and memory that he feels bearing down on him, and he finds it difficult to concentrate on much of anything for long periods of time. The city is in turmoil over this business with the witches and the fae, and the wolves have begun causing trouble of their own.

He has made decrees of his own in response to these problems -- all vampires sympathetic to the Daybreak cause are to be expelled from the Nest. And the wolves? Well, since they were going about killing any vampire on sight that set foot in East End Pack territory, Jean-Claude made his own declaration in return. Any werewolf caught trespassing will be subject to punishment of that vampire's choice. He does not want an all-out bloodbath on his hands, to decree that they might kill on sight in return would be downright foolhardy. But he cannot let this go either. Perhaps he should have thought things through more, but he had been a bit preoccupied of late.

And that preoccupation had everything to do with the new portrait hanging on the wall above his couch. New, in the sense that it had not been there before, but definitely not new in age. Oil on canvas, painted over five hundred years ago, depicting three people dressed in the style of the 1600's. The woman wears white and silver with a square bodice showing quite a bit of decolletage, her brown hair styled in careful ringlets, with a red rose held loosely in one hand. A man stands behind her, tall and slender, with dark gold hair in ringlets over his shoulders. He has a mustache and a Vandyke beard, so dark gold they are nearly brown. On his head he wears a large floppy hat with feathers, his entire outfit of white and gold. It is the third that the onlooker will recognize. Seated just behind the woman, dressed in black with silver embroidery and a wide lace collar and cuffs, he too has his own wide-brimmed floppy hat, with a single quite feather and a silver buckle, this one black. Though he does not wear it, instead resting it across his lap. His black hair falls in ringlets across his shoulders, and his face is clean-shaven, his eyes strikingly blue even despite the medium. The other two depicted are smiling, but the third man -- Jean-Claude -- is solemn. A darkness to their light.

Jean-Claude does not know why Belle decided to send this painting to him. He has not gathered the courage in himself to ask, just yet. Neither has he gathered the courage to do anything with it but hang the piece on his wall. It is a reminder of what feels now as if a different life. He should have known, as the portrait artist had done, that he would bring a darkness in their lives. These two people he had cherished the most in all the world. Julianna. Asher. How happy they had been...

He pushes himself back from the desk with a sigh, feeling their gazes heavy upon himself. He will get no work done on this night. Perhaps he should take a turn about the floor of the club instead. Though he doubts that will do much to lighten his mood.

[ooc: feel free to visit him being maudlin in his office, or as he mopes around on the floor, or perhaps once he has found himself a corner of the bar and a glass of wine to nurse as well! c: ]

Comments

[dredefulchilde]

"I said," Joscelin pitches his voice a little louder, "There will be all-out war if this--Christ, Jean-Claude, I've never seen you gathering wool like this. Pay attention."

The little vampire follows his friend's gaze to the painting on the far wall of his office, which he hadn't noticed when he'd barged in ninety seconds ago. Huh.

"...I don't like it. The style's awfully derivative."

[baisant]

Jean-Claude glances back to the little vampire at the sound of his voice -- and the judgment to follow. He can't say that he does not agree. It was hardly the most masterful of artists that had painted the thing. But the man who had painted it had captured their likenesses well nonetheless.

"I suppose that they were going for the feel of a van Dyck," he allows, after a moment. "He was a very popular artist at the time. We thought ourselves very avant garde to sit for such a portrait. Capturing such a moment in our lives for posterity so that we might remember it fondly in the days to come." He glances back at Joscelin, his face carefully blank, however the fact that he is so otherwise preoccupied pretty much says it all.

[dredefulchilde]

Joscelin raises an eyebrow. "I'm aware. I was there too." He'd experienced the mania for Flemish artwork and questionable facial hair first hand.

(Well, maybe not the facial hair.)

"You hardly look like you enjoyed that moment."

[baisant]

Jean-Claude turns back to the portrait in question, studying his face before turning his gaze on the faces of the other two depicted in the portrait with him. They were so beautiful. Even with that ridiculous facial hair Asher had grown at the time. Mon chardonneret... And Julianna, in that dress. How they had enjoyed stripping her out of it the evening to follow...

"I was young," Jean-Claude replies. "We all were. I enjoyed their company. Perhaps I may have made it more clear than necessary what I thought of the idea of wasting so much time and energy for a sitting. In truth, it was the first time I had ever done such a thing, and I was nervous. I had never spent so much money on something so frivolous." He leans his head in his hand, thinking back on the moment, and continuing, "They loved it, of course."

[dredefulchilde]

"And you, my old friend, decided suddenly to relive your glory days some three and a half centuries ago and do a spot of redecorating?" Joscelin does not keep the scorn out of his voice. Jean-Claude may be a sentimental fool, but he doesn't reminisce. It's most unlike him to get all nostalgic like this. It's still more unlike him to be so distracted.

In his own way, this is Joscelin showing concern. Sort of.

He pauses, looking at the two unfamiliar people. "Who are they?"

Floor of the club --> office mayhaps?

[stauncherhearted]

It was becoming slightly less of a rare occurrence that Nancy would find herself at Guilty Pleasures. She didn't know how she felt about it, but given that it held the preferred office of the Duke of Islington, perhaps it was a little less strange now. She'd never worked in a club like this before, and it had always fascinated her. Terrified her, too- she knew there was a stigma against prostitutes, strippers looking down on them, and that wasn't another can of worms she ever fancied opening.

Still, Nancy was far from uncomfortable as she looked about the floor, hoping to find previously mentioned Duke. It took her a few moments, before she spotted him, and waited for a sign that she could approach. When he did, she closed the distance, approaching him with her purse slung over her shoulder. "Hey," she says. "If you're not busy, could we talk for a minute? Somewhere quiet, maybe?"

sounds good to me! c:

[baisant]

Jean-Claude's dancers would hardly look down on a girl like Nancy. Not to say that they were gentlemen themselves -- far from it in fact. But Jean-Claude had done a lot to cultivate his little business here. And in doing so, most of the dancers themselves were vampires, shifters, and other supes that had started out in very much the same situation as Nancy herself. Working on the streets, selling themselves to put food on the table. Jean-Claude isn't looking to clean up their act, for he knows in some instances they likely never will. But he can at least give them this. It's no wonder the rest of vampirekind calls him sentimental.

He's just finished checking in with one of the bouncers for the evening when he sees Nancy approaching from across the floor and his lips curl into a smile at the sight of her. "But of course, mon amie," he replies. "If you would care to accompany me back to my office?" He raises his eyebrows slightly, in question of whether that is the quiet she meant. They might be able to find a spot by the bar, if he pulls a few strings. But his office is certainly easier and will not be usurping any of his clientele from their seats for that matter.

[stauncherhearted]

His office was better than she could have hoped for, and she nods eagerly at the idea. "Sure- that sounds lovely. Not that this music isn't amazing-" it wasn't really her favorite type "-but it's a bit loud, yeah?" With another smile, she lets him lead toward the office.

Once they're inside, Nancy immediately notices the newest addition to the office.

"That painting," she says after a moment of looking at it. "Is that- my gods, that's you, isn't it?"

[baisant]

Jean-Claude smiles politely in response to her attempts. Really, she doesn't need to try so hard. It's club music. He hardly understands it himself, but if it's what the men need to keep the clientele happy as they sway their hips and strut their stuff, who is he to say no? He gestures back towards the discrete staff entrance behind the bar, leading her through it and down the narrow hallway into his office.

He supposes he should have thought the painting would be the first place her eyes would gravitate, considering it's the first place that his do as well. Still, most of his staff have avoided the questions, whether out of respect or out of fear he does not quite know, and so to be asked as much so outright and so soon is well. Almost refreshing in a way. He glances up to the portrait, studying it in turn for a moment before nodding.

"Yes, mon amie," he replies. "Many moons ago, but yes. Myself, Asher, and Julianna."

[longterm]

You know what you need, Jean-Claude? Your favourite ex. Where's Cesare's painting, hmm?

Cesare was passing by when he decided to have an amble in to check if Jean-Claude still frequents Guilty Pleasures and tease him a bit if so. Cesare is not disappointed. Looking Jean-Claude in the eye, he gives an overly polite knock on the already open door before walking inside with a grin.

"Should you still be spending time in here? Is that appropriate for our noble leader?" he teases.

[baisant]

Asher and Juliana had been the ones to convince Jean-Claude into sitting for such a portrait. Would you have gotten it into your head to request such a sentimental frivolity yourself, Cesare? No, he thought not.

Of course Jean-Claude still frequents Guilty Pleasures. Before he was the Duke of London, he was a business owner, and this is his business. Even if there are those amongst the older vampires of the city who do not approve of the Duke maintaining such connections, Jean-Claude is insistent that it is a part of himself and who he is.

Turning back to Cesare, Jean-Claude doubts that is how the other vampire truly feels on the matter. He always liked to tease though. Get under his skin. This is no exception, he assumes. "It is still my business, mon ami," Jean-Claude replies, dryly. "Someone must pay the bills."

[longterm]

"So you aren't kept too busy then, I see," Cesare responds teasingly. "Still have time for hobbies and entrepreneurial pursuits. We are all frightfully well behaved, us vamps. We practically govern ourselves." He flashes a grin and sits himself down in the chair opposite Jean-Claude, leaning back and making himself comfortable. He would put his feet up but Jean-Claude's desk looks like it's filled with stripper information that must be very important indeed. So instead he just rests his hands on the arms of the chair, crossing his foot over his knee and leaning back as far as the chair will let him.

"I'm guessing you don't need any help then."

[baisant]

Jean-Claude raises his eyebrows at the pose, but says nothing otherwise. Cesare is free to sit if he has something to discuss, he certainly will not deny him the visit. He appreciates at least the fact that he hasn't put his feet up on his desk. Not only does he have important documentation on his desk, but that would just be rude, Cesare.

"And what sort of help would you have come here to offer, pray tell, mon ami?" Sitting back in his chair himself, he sets aside his work for the moment and gestures towards the other man. 'Go on, then,' the movement says.

[emotioneater]

They need to talk. Well, they've needed to talk long before this, but Cooper has been deliberately keeping himself busy with his duties so that he didn't have to talk to JC. He knew talking politics had the potential to end in an argument. So he waits until Jean-Claude is at his most moody, sitting in the farthest corner of the bar with a glass of wine that came from a bottle probably half as old as Cooper himself.

He got a scotch and soda, then came over to Jean-Claude. "Make some room, Gloomy Gus." He slides into the seat next to the elder vampire. "If you worry anymore, you're going to get lines in your forehead." That was a bad joke between immortals. Cooper was not funny.

[baisant]

Jean-Claude glances up at the other vampire, raising an eyebrow at the phrase -- and the fact that he has just called him Gloomy Gus for that matter -- though he does not take it personally. How can he -- he knows that he's right. He is in a mood, and he is not even bothering to keep from broadcasting it. He really is off his form these days.

"We cannot have that, now can we," he tones back, because it is what is expected. Fearing for his loss of eternal beauty. There is a portrait in his office hanging reminding him of the loss of an eternal beauty of a different sort, and it is perhaps for that reminder that his response is less than the usual jovial sarcasm he might have offered otherwise.

[emotioneater]

It's times like this Cooper is thankful he developed the ability to read emotions when he did. Such a power really comes in handy when dealing both in politics and vampires who hide behind a mask. Cooper knows how that is. There's still many in the Nest who see little more than an idiot, the eternal teenager who's never bothered to mentally grow up.

The truth is far more complicated. He knows too well that the politics of the Nest can wear a person down. Being at the top, Jean-Claude had to feel it more than most. "How're you doin'? I mean really?" He took a long sip of his drink to give JC time to think.

[baisant]

Jean-Claude offers the other vampire a slow, polite smile, closing his hands around his glass as he contemplates his response. How is he doing, really? It is quite the question, especially coming from Cooper. But this is not the time or place for politics, and besides there are other things bothering him as well. More personal matters.

"I have seen better days, mon ami," he answers, truthfully.

[falsify]

It's through nobody's fault but circumstance, but Eames does still find it in himself to feel a little bad that he hasn't had time for more than exchanging a quick few words over the phone with Jean-Claude since Bromley. He's been busy, and he suspects Jean-Claude has been too.

Once he finds a gap in his schedule, one around the right time of day, Eames makes the decision to head over and see the man. A couple of hours before Guilty Pleasures opens, (so as for there to be plenty of time for wherever the afternoon takes them without taking Jean-Claude away from his work,) though he does manage to be disappointed that they don't allow him to go straight through to his office this time.

The woman who was out stocking the bar heads back to tell Jean-Claude he's here and to ask if he wants to see him, and Eames makes himself comfortable sitting at the bar while he waits to be seen. (Or asked to leave.) Setting a paper bag and a bottle of wine down on it carefully.

[baisant]

There are many visitors that Jean-Claude would be more than happy to turn away at the door, but luckily for Eames he is not one of them. Instead, a minute later the woman returns to let him know that Jean-Claude will receive him in his office. Ever the flair for dramatics, Jean-Claude has, and even in his most melancholy state there proves to be no exceptions.

He sits behind his large lacquered desk and waits for the woman to lead Eames through. Working through his account book with genuine fountain pen, yes, fountain pen, up until the moment Eames is let in, as though he is surprised to see him there despite the fact that his presence had been announced already.

"Mon ami," he says, his smile spreading wide both at Eames himself and at the paper bag in his hand. He gestures for the door to be shut behind him as the woman lets herself out, before sitting back in his chair to regard the other man, taking in the image of him. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

[falsify]

A smile on his face in return, Eames moves over to where Jean-Claude sits and leans a hip on his desk, setting the bottle and the bag down somewhere with enough space he won't disturb the man's work.

(He elects not to comment on the painting, not yet anyway, though the broody vampire depicted seems a little at odds with the image Jean-Claude tries to project.)

"We've both been busy," Eames drawls in French that sounds as natural from him as English does, (accent just slightly Southern,) and gestures broadly with his hand, "but that's no excuse for not coming by to thank you for your help."

[baisant]

Jean-Claude glances up at the other man, somewhat surprised by how forward Eames is being with him, all things considered, though of course he is not displeased by the circumstances.

Of course, once Eames starts with the French, all bets are off. Jean-Claude's lips part slightly in a soft 'oh' of surprise, before a broad, pleased smile spreads its way across his face in return. He tilts his head at the other man coquettishly, leaning in to him slightly as he replies, "No, no it is not." And then, because he cannot help himself, "You have been holding out on me."

Floor of the club

[vampire_barbie_girl]

Since her first visit to Guilty Pleasures so many months ago, Caroline had come back several times. It wasn't a place she intended to become a regular at but sometimes the flashy place just fit her mood.

Tonight was one of those nights, as she'd been going out to a number of singing auditions, so far without much luck in landing a job. It was a bit disheartening and so right now, she just wanted to relax and enjoy herself.

After getting her drink, she found a seat in the corner where she could watch without being watched in return.

[baisant]

Jean-Claude slinks his way around the edges of the club, surveying the dancers, checking in with the bouncers, doing everything an owner should do on a night such as this. But his heart isn't in it and he does not want to make the dancers nervous, so after spotting Caroline sitting at her table he meanders his way through the crowd to join her, folding himself into the empty seat at her table with a feline grace that is won through years of practice and hard work.

"Are you enjoying yourself at the club tonight, mon amie?" he asks, leaning forward to lean his chin in his hand and tilt his head at her, nodding towards the dancer on the stage. Just now it is Nathaniel, known as Brandon on stage. A club favorite, he has braided his long chestnut hair, which he uses as almost another limb as he dances. "He is quite impressive, non?"

[vampire_barbie_girl]

Caroline smiles. "Everyone here is quite impressive." She mostly means the dancers, though not just them.

"And how are you? I hope Nest business isn't keeping you too busy." She doesn't really know what all comes with the title of Duke but she can't imagine it's the most relaxing position to be in.

[baisant]

Jean-Claude offers her a bob of his head which could mean anything and nothing. It is hard to tell, with the old ones like him, when they make such gestures. Or maybe it is simply because he is French. One never knows...

"Never more busy than I have asked to be," he replies. "What about yourself, mon amie? What have you been up to, of late?"