Meliora - Emanate - 13

[lady_mab]

No Kaito

Lysander sits with his chin propped up on one hand and watches me. I'm on a break, so I've rounded to the other side of the bar and have taken Rhys' customary stool. Rhys is not here tonight -- something about 'Remember that part where I'm the responsible adult that takes my job seriously?' or whatever. Lysander, for all intents and purposes, is a Responsible Adult and has work the next day but is still here to keep me company.

"They’re not arguing, which is the problem,” I’m saying, drumming my fingers against the bar. "Maybe it's a twin thing, or it's the fact that Rhys is ten years older. Combined with the twin thing. So many factors."

He hums in thought and taps his fingers against the glass. Stout tonight. He's being moody, but he normally is. "They'll work it out like they always do. I think it's more of a teenager thing than a sibling thing."

"You figure?"

He grins and holds up the glass. "I'm surrounded by teenagers for about nine hours a day. Five days a week. It's the hormones, or whatever."

"Or whatever," I mock. "You sound like you've never been a teenager."

"I was, once, and it was a horribly awkward time. I'm sure you would agree."

I press a hand to my chest, offended. "Far from it. I opened this bar when I was eighteen."

"So you were one of the smart-ass teenagers."

"It happens when you're raised in such a strict setting as the No household."

He winces, though I can't tell if it's pretend or real. "I suppose that I wouldn't know."

Ah, yes, Lysander the wanderer. No wonder Rhys looks up to him -- has that whole intelligent and worldly air about him that Rhys tries to emulate. "Well, it will work itself out."

"What is it about this time?"

I glance my cell and slide off the stool. "What do all good relationships argue about? A lack of communication."

Lysander snorts into his glass and shakes his head in amusement as I make my way back behind the bar. "What a wonder that any of us are able to get anything done in this day and age."

"I want chips to be implanted directly into my brain so I can think a message to someone and it will send. No more of this having to pull out my phone and type it out. It's 205 SD, for fuck’s sake!" I shake one fist at the neon lights on the ceiling. "Don't you agree, Taylor?"

The bartender at my side jumps as he's suddenly addressed. "I... don't know. I feel like that would cause some complications... don't you think?"

I pause, trying to justify the downsides of this sort of communication. "Would it?"

"Like if you're thinking something bad about someone and it sends that even though you didn't mean it to?"

"That," Lysander says, intoning the way Rhys would if he had been here, "is a very good point."

I wave my hand to dismiss the subject. I'm not one to hold back my thoughts on a person, so there's a chance I would just say it to their face if I don't end up think-texting it to them. "But you guys, consider how much easier sexting would be."

Taylor, sweet innocent little Taylor, looks thoroughly scandalized by the thought. Lysander, however, breaks down in a fit of laughter and nearly drops his glass over the edge of the bar.

"Practical as always!" he chokes, putting down the glass and wiping the condensation off his hands. "Innovative. I can see how you managed to get this far at such a young age."

I grin and switch out his mostly empty glass for a new one even if he hadn't asked for it. "I'm glad you agree."

The amusement of the moment is side-lined as my phone goes off beside me at the register. I try to glance at the display from where I'm standing, but all I see is that it is a text message. I wonder if it's Rhys, updating me on the progress of him and the twins trying to work things out.

It's not until I notice Lysander pulling out his phone as well that my thoughts quickly derail onto a related subject.

"Oh," I sigh as he gives me a meaningful look.

I reach for my phone, bring up the texts. The most recent one is a reminder that the shots are due soon, which is a dumb reminder because I have been thinking about it constantly. The first message that was sent is titled "five dead foxes" and cryptically states "27 February 1970, A King Vampire from Wallachia".

Which, all things considered, makes no fucking sense.

"A problem with communication indeed," I mutter, annoyed at having the evening ruined by such a mysterious message. It's not the first we've received -- I've already sent a handful off to the siblings who reported back with absolutely nothing more than needing to scan a QR code on the location. Are they training us to blind obedience? That would be the only thing I can figure, but at the same time, this one sounds far more threatening than the ones previous.

"King Vampire from Wallachia..." Lysander muses, and a small part of me is surprised.

I need to be careful about what I say, because even though Taylor is busy helping one of the guests at the bar, I can't be too sure that no one else is listening in that isn't involved. "You too?"

He looks up from his phone, then turns it so I can see. He opens his mouth, ready to speak, but I shake my head.

"Not a good time."

Lysander's mouth snaps shut and he nods in understanding. "I should leave, then. Tomorrow is a school day. Or a work day. Which would garner more sympathy?"

"The fact that you work at a school brings out enough pity from people, Lys." I offer him a salute and he returns the gesture as he heads out of the bar.

I snatch up the half-finished drink and empty the rest of it down the drain. At least, with it being a weekday, I won’t feel too guilty about stepping into the back office that separates the bar from my private apartment. Hell, I could get away with simply retreating for the whole night, but the text about the shots reminded me of Lio's side project.

Sitting at the bar, in the far corner where people go when they want to be left alone, is a man I've seen in several times. His timing is quite fortuitous, in my opinion, because he is exactly the person I am looking for.

I grab a second glass of what he's drinking (pale ale, one that has 'hints of citrus') and I bring it over to him.

His tired eyes look up in surprise, then around at the other patrons. "Who is that from?" For such a disheveled looking man, he has a very posh sounding accent.

"Me. Sorry, no one is buying you a beer, but if it makes you feel any better, I'm offering you this one for free?" I'm not used to trying to garner favors at my bar. One might think that it comes with the territory, and I do consider myself charming, but it is also my place of business. I don’t make it a rule of thumb to butter people up while I’m working. Rhys doesn’t count. "You're a scientist, aren't you?"

He warily takes the glass and sits back on the stool, looking up and down, as if he's only just seeing me for the first time. I know this isn't true, because I've seen him in here enough to know him on sight, what time of drink he likes, and what his profession is. "Aye, south corner of the third district. It's shit, if you're thinking about switching jobs."

"No, thanks, I've got my hands full here." I smile, trying to get him to warm up to me, but it doesn't seem to be working. He still hasn't even taken a sip, though he keeps his hand wrapped around the glass. "I'm sorry, but I don't actually know your name."

The man continues his study of me, then reaches some conclusion that I can't discern from his unchanging expression, and says, "Zakariah Jenkins."

"It's a pleasure. I'm Kaito."

"I think everyone in here knows who you are."

"I'm trying to decide if that's a relief or not, because you're making it sound a little ominous with your fancy accent."

This manages to draw a hint of a smirk from Zakariah, and I consider that the victory of the hour. Part one done. Now to actually weasel the favor out of him.

"All the way out in the third district... that's close to the water line by there, isn't it?"

"There are more than a few uncomfortably large puddles, yes."

“You mean that ALICE hasn’t bought you out yet?” I whistle, miming surprise, and only hope that it is convincing enough.

Zakariah makes a face, and I realize a second later that he’s agreeing with me. “They’ve been out that way a few times, made the trip and muddied their pristine shoes, of course. But the owner isn’t interested in selling.”

“They must be offering a lot of money, though.”

“Yes, but that is only important if you are in it for the money. I, as it happens, am not.”

I resist the urge to point out that, by his appearance alone, he most certainly is not doing anything for a considerable amount of wealth.

Zakariah finally takes a sip. “I presume you’re looking for something to be done off of ALICE’s radar, then, hm?”

“Er, was it that obvious?”

His expression is more of a smile and less of a smirk by now, which is reassuring. “It’s people like you that make it worth thwarting ALICE.”

“Thwarting. Now you’re starting to sound like a villain.”

“You watch too much Old World cinema,” he comments, shifting his weight on the bar and reaching for his wallet. “My business card.”

I take the thin piece of laminate and tuck it away in my pocket with my phone. “You don’t even know what I’m going to ask you.”

“Don’t have to.” He takes a deep drink, a signal that our conversation is nearly over. “I don’t like ALICE. That’s not saying I’m doing this for free, but I’m willing to look past the reasoning of why you are asking me in the first place.”

I tap my back pocket. “I’ll message you the details.”

“I trust you’ll be discreet about it?” He pulls out several notes to pay, but I wave it off. It’s a strange question for him to be asking me, but I guess that he wants to stay off of ALICE’s radar as much as the rest of us do.

“I have a computer programmer on speed dial. He’ll make sure it’s clear.” I grin at his expression of surprise. “I look forward to working with you, Zakariah.”

He slides off of the stool, pats himself down to ensure he has everything he needs, and nods. “And I, you.” He blends in easily with the thin crowd, and I follow his progress to the door. Once he’s gone from my line of sight, I collect the empty glasses from around the bar and set them in the sink to be washed up.

“I’ll be doing work in the office,” I tell Taylor, patting him on the shoulder as I pass. “Let me know if you need me.”

I need to do a bit of research first, but I think that this one will go to Rhys and not the twins. I know him well enough to know that he will not want his siblings involved with anything involving ‘king vampires’ and ‘five dead foxes’ -- even if I don’t know how they connect at the moment.