Logs:Dumb Decisions

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Dumb Decisions


Characters: Buster, Ian, Miles and Tris
Date: 2020-01-16
Summary: It was a lovely evening for an after hours stroll in City Park. Everyone thought so. That was the first of many dumb decisions.
Disclaimers: {{{disclaimers}}}

----
<text> Ian to Tris: How's your ear? :(
<text> Tris to Ian: All good. Told you it'd be fine. How're you?
<text> Ian to Tris: Lonely. It's quiet today.
<text> Tris to Ian: Miles and I are walking around City Park. It's closed, but really pretty. Kind of dark. Moon's nice, though. Come say hi, if you want. <Where abouts they're at, on that pretty stone bridge on the loop>
<text> Ian to Tris: OK. I can catch a ride with someone. He's got a motorcycle, so it'll be OK.
<text> Tris to Ian: Motorcycles are awesome. We'll be on the bridge. See you soon. :)

Twilight has passed on into night, which means that City Park is technically closed. But that doesn't often stop people who have a will and a way and supernatural self-confidence. It also doesn't stop the occasional partier or couple from sneaking in. One such, though sneak is hardly a term that could apply the two figures standing in plain sight on a stone bridge somewhere along the park loop. There aren't many lights about, but the clear night provides stars and moon overhead and even that is enough to make distinctive gossamer scars glimmer with shades of silver, violet and blue. It's not enough to cast off much more light to see by than it takes to see the other man on the bridge with Tris, but it's also a rather unmistakable if dim beacon that TRIS IS HERE.

--

Even on an after hours walk in the park, Miles is wearing some semblance of a suit, but it's just the slacks and a button down that's rolled up to his elbows. Showing that much skin granted, shows off the slow drift of auroral lights in shades of blue over the skin of his forearms, usually hidden by his suits and almost never shown off in public. But they aren't even supposed to be here, so this is hardly public right now. It also shows off the protrusion of a dormant, thorny branch on his underside of his left arm. "Maybe a pond in the garden. You know the sort with those big fish. And a water feature. I like the sound of the water."

--

There is the sound of slightly wobbly singing, in a Tennessee mountain accent.

"The bridge, so high
The bridge, so tall
Here is where it started
On the bridge
The moon is big and yellow
And the stars are all a' glow
From the bridge, I see reflections
In the waters far below..."

This is, of course, possibly the darkest song Dolly Parton ever wrote. Buster is hopping along rocks, in the creek... singing to the two of them.

--

For all that Tris too frequently exhibits a variety of habits that are indicative of a really terrible boyfriend, from club-hopping to going out for untold hours in the middle of the night to bringing bloody vampires home on holidays, he's presently showing signs of just the opposite. His head is tilted just slightly, listening to Miles' musings about plans for the garden at the house attentively, adding what (okay, marginally or downright un-) intelligent commentary he can contribute when appropriate. "That sounds nice. Maybe we can get a couple frogs, too." Because one can absolutely just... get frogs and keep them in a pond, right? That's how that works?

Okay, so Tris isn't winning any awards for homeownership, but he probably could for awareness. His eyes go straight to the source of the serenade, and a wry smile twists his lips. His arm reaches out to curl around Miles' waist and snug him a little closer. "I guess we're getting a private concert." He lifts his voice to call, "Hey, Buster, know any Norah Jones?"

--

"Why would we want--" But then, for better or worse, Miles' attention shifts in the direction of the singing, and Tris can probably feel his tension get a little more tense when he mentions the name of of the interloper. Out of reflex, and probably because he knows the vampire can see him, his hands move to start unfolding his sleeves to cover his arms again. "Did you know he'd be here?" Is that an accusation in Miles' voice? Surely not.

--

Buster stops, and stands on a rock in the stream. He's dressed to the nines. "I've got a seeeeeeeecret," He says. "Do you want to know what it is, Tris?" He holds his arms out, and says, "Do you really?"

"It'll make Miles *really* uncomfortable." He sways from side to side, and then laughs. "Sorry, been feeding on some college kids who had too much to drink." He looks up, and says, "The secret is, you're really cute, but on-fire isn't my type--?"

"But uh, Miles, there? The one who really dislikes me?" He beams, "He's *super* cute. Smart, sardonic, with sartorial sense, he's just the kind of guy I li-i-i-ike...!" He hops onto another stone.

--

Ian's mode of transportation is to basically beg some member of his staff to take him where he needs to go. He can't rideshare, that leads to unpleasant conversations about Jesus. He can't take the bus for much the same reason. He sure as hell can't drive - even if he has the car, well... let's face it, some life skills need actual practice before one gets put behind the wheel of whatever kind of gorgeous supercar that thing is. So... he arrives on the back of a motorcycle driven by a friend, wearing a motorcycle helmet despite the darkness so he doesn't have to deal with people giving him Looks. They park in the Park parking lot - say park one more time - and Ian climbs off, then hands over the helmet sort of reluctantly. "Thanks for the ride." If he could go out in a full helmet all the time he'd feel a lot safer and saner. "I'll call you? Go have fun." A faltering smile, then he abandons Bill the motorcycle driver and heads off towards the bridge, alert and wary and suddenly even more nervous. He digs out his phone to check it, then taps something out, before focusing his attention back on the rest of the world.

<text> Ian to Tris: I'm here. <dots of typing, dots of erasing> <Ian hits Send>

--

"Mosquitos," Tris answers anyways. "The other kind of bloodsuckers." That's cheerful, playful almost. He glances down to Miles and just shakes his head. "Didn't." The arm around the Fairest's waist gives a little squeeze before devoting his attention back to the rock-king. "Too bad he's taken, Buster." And yet, the baring of Tris' mundane teeth is playful. "But, listen, I feel for you, buddy. I really do. I'll help you find your own super cute, smart, sardonic man with sartorial sense." He might just murmur to Miles, "What's sartorial?" But, then, Tris does not qualify for some of those labels.

Of course, it's just then that his phone chimes and Tris is pulling it from his pocket to check. "Ian's here." Then, "Buster, are you coming?" Apparently all of Tris' friends are invited. "We can start walking toward the parking lot to meet him." He's nice like that. Or maybe it's an out for Miles if Miles really is uncomfortable in light of all Buster's revelations.

--

Miles starts to open his mouth, probably to say something like 'we already knew you think he's cute' but after Buster finishes his thoughts, Miles closes his mouth again and his jaw sets instead. He's probably annoyed that he doesn't know how to respond to that. "He likes the way I dress," is offered quietly to Tris' question as Miles finishes buttoning his sleeves around his wrists to hide those very private lights of his mien. "Don't flatter yourself, boy," he finally directs to the vampire. "Really disliking you would require a passion I don't currently possess." The Fairest will at least walk with Tris, and apparently Buster, toward meeting Ian.

--

"I'll try harder." Buster says, as he hops out of the creek and wobbles along behind, then settles into an easy lope that indicates that he may be a bit drunk but he isn't really impeded. "Boy, heheh. Well, maybe by choice." Buster says, with a grin, "Oh, I didn't say I was gonna get anywhere with that one." He beams, brightly. "Well, his outfit and that poet's brow."

As they walk along, he says, "Ian? Who's Ian?"

--

Ian is Christian Blake, the famous singer. Of Christian soft rock. That Jesus-freak guy who sorta imploded at the end of last year, cussed out his fans (badly) and marched off the stage, never to set foot in a church again. His fans think he's possessed. There have yet to be exorcism attempts, but they're probably coming. And Ian is walking towards Tris and Miles right now, head down, hood up, peering out from under his hoodie like he might be wrong about recognizing his friends, both hands in his pockets dragging the hoodie down tight over his twitching, fidgeting wings. "Tris?" His voice sounds like finely ground glass tonight, just a bit sibilant and whispery, with an underlying thread of melancholic harmony.

--

Tris is in trouble later. Not that Tris isn't routinely in trouble at home, but he's probably got to get flowers to make up for his offhand remark to Buster, "Oh, I don't know. He called me boy at first, too." And then that rakish, feral grin. Is he encouraging Buster? He might not be meaning to, but those words... hard to say, really. Tris doesn't remove his arm from around Miles' waist. "I like the way you dress, too," is lower, for Miles, though Tris doesn't really harbor illusions that it's actually private now that Buster is coming along.

"Ian's a friend of mine. Please be nice. He's not as..." but whatever he was going to end that sentence with is lost because there's the being of glass that is Ian. "Hey, Ian!" Tris doesn't cast his voice loudly - the Park is closed after all, but loudly enough to be heard. "Ian, Miles and Buster, Miles and Buster, Ian." He makes gesture with his free hand. Th scars exposed on his arms and face have picked up more vivid blues and violets in addition to the silver as they come to where some of the light from the parking area can be caught up by those light-hungry strands of gossamer imbedded in his skin.

--

Miles' mantle is frosty, leaving a cool shimmer in the otherwise humid air as he moves. There's a sound like a growl, a very human sort of growl, and it must be coming from Miles, even though he only has his eyes on the Ian ahead at this point. "Miles Norwood," he introduces himself more directly, lest he be confused for a Buster. "You nearly had Tris blown up, yes?" He doesn't say it meanly, at least, just the point of reference he has for Ian in his head, matter of fact.

--

Buster tilts his head. "Wait, I know him." He says, before he snaps his fingers, "I know him! He sang 'Long Dark Night of the Soul'! I thought that was about fucking for the longest time, imagine my face when I learned it was about Jesus! I wonder if he ever knew how many southern girls had their first schlick to that--"

He says, "And his blow-up on stage, that was AMAZING. That was like the best Jesus-Freak meltdown I've ever seen, that was like a two stake two blowjob self-liberation act..."

--

Oh hell. Ian freezes, looking between Miles and Buster both with something damn close to terror. "Uh." How the hell does one even address this? Panic is a thing. He could panic. He could bolt. There are probably good ways to get out of here, but his ride just rode off, and his attention darts back and forth as he contemplates /true/ flight. Tris has about three seconds to handle this before something happens.

--

There's the briefest squeeze to Miles' waist before the Winter who Tris knows can hold his own for a moment anyway is abandoned in favor of fleet feet carrying the runnerswift to the perturbed Spring. Step one is to wrap his hand around Ian's, a silent gesture of moral support.

"I just carried Ian's plants for him, Miles. I was far away from the explosion when it happened." The hand in his gets a squeeze. "He's the one who gave me my harmonica." There, another point of reference for Miles that's more positive than that time Tris drove and conspired in arson.

Then, quickly, to Buster, "Ian has been gone a long time, Buster. He's not who you're thinking of, even if he looks like him. Look closer." Closer, past the illusion.

The last part of this is distraction, for Ian, "Did Robin come along tonight? I don't know if Miles has met Robin. Buster probably wouldn't like to." Though something about that makes Tris' eyes light with just a little touch of mischief.

--

Even Miles looks at Buster like he realizes that's probably not going to go over particularly well. Then again, he has those presumed biases against the poor vampire to begin with or something. "Right, right. The harmonica." As for the other Lost, Miles notes, "I've met Robin. Briefly. And they were at the solstice gathering." You know, the one that Miles noped out on as soon as he didn't get what he wanted. "As long as we all agree not to set it on fire, you're always welcome to visit our home." When he needs to satisfy whatever brought him here tonight, at least.

--

"I threw a TV out a window in solidarity with him," Buster adds, "And I had to go find and buy a CRT TV to do that, throwing a flatscreen out the window just doesn't have the same SMASH and CRASH, you know--"

Then he squints, and says, simply, "Wow. He's really beautiful."

Then he shrugs, once, and says, "Yeah ok, I get it. Not him. Better."

--

The glass of Ian's face has gotten smokier in the last moment than Tris has probably ever seen it. His fingers wind into Tris's, cold glass warming a little with the touch, and the fidgeting, especially of the wings hidden under his hoodie, subsides a little. "Robin had to go do a thing. They're not home." He's staring at Buster obliquely, not directly; his eyes cut towards Miles and then flick back towards Buster. The Winter isn't exactly giving off the predatory vibes the vampire is. "I... think I'm okay now. I should go home." The look Ian shoots around the park is assessing. There aren't a whole lot of people, just these three in immediate sight. He /really/ needs to stop using the Chrysalis for an escape from "thinking like a human", but... it's damn tempting. He tugs his hand free of Tris's and turns to go back towards the parking lot. It's dark, no one will notice. Right? Surely.

<spend> Ian spends 1 (-1 points) of his Glamour pool.

--

"Do you need a ride?" It's of course the first thing the empathetic Beast would offer, though he doesn't try to keep Ian's hand. There's concern in Tris' expression for the other Lost and a glance back toward Miles that's grateful, one that bleeds over toward Buster, in fact, for the vampire's ready acceptance. "I'll come by the community center this week sometime. Or have you over to the house, if you want to get out for a little while." He's speaking fast, but not because he's trying to keep the other Lost. Ian has a phone, Ian has abilities, Ian can take care of himself, and even if Tris is the kind of friend who'd like to help, he's not one to inhibit a friend's competence. The offers are there. That will have to do.

"I'm sure Robin won't burn the house down," that's for Miles. "Their fire only burns when they want it to." That has a note of fanboydom, but it can't be helped; one must admire the stars, mustn't they? If they're Tris, probably.

--

Miles might cut a quick look to Tris for offering Ian a ride but then he probably realizes he could come with, and not be left here alone with Buster or something. "Good," is all Miles says of Robin and their fire. "I don't want any avoidable damage in the house." He could look at Buster here again, but he doesn't.

--

"Geez, are there any changelings who're like, sassy and in your face and not on fire?" Buster asks. "Because so far everybody's frosty and unfriendly and they run away a lot, which kinda makes me wanna chase--" He says, but he isn't chasing. Instead he just kind of turns around and jams his hands into his coat pockets, as he starts to sullenly walk off. Maybe his feelings are hurt. Maybe he has feelings?

--

<spend> Ian spends 1 (-1 points) of his Glamour pool.

"I'm fine," Ian says, glancing back at Tris, and there's actually a fleeting smile on his face, because this isn't /completely/ flight. This is a chance to do something which, the last time he tried it, he was in the Hedge and things were bad and he never had a chance to actually enjoy it. "Nice meeting you!" he calls, because he's supposed to be polite, and the strange joy of it rings through his voice like a bell.

Ian's clothing melts away, but it's not like there's anything exposed, because Ian is already becoming something entirely different - a massive glass dragon, wings the size of a jet liner's, sleek and smooth and dark smoked glass all over, every scale and horn and scute perfectly articulated in the odd elemental medium. Powerful muscles bunch and with a flick of a suddenly, dangerously long tail, the impossible creature launches itself forward, wings catching the air. Who needs to call Bill for a ride home when one can do /this/?

The world will have to forgive Ian if he does circle back just a little, tipping his wing in the old-fashioned salute of a biplane pilot before he redirects to wing towards home. He /might/ have been showing off a little. Or trying to look scary. Or both. Whichever. Thankfully the dark color of the glass makes him far more difficult to see once he's above the street lights.

--

"Okay." Tris believes Ian's reassurance and he starts to turn to go back to his Winter, when Ian... does that. Tension ripples through the Beast and there's a visible struggle in the man's face as Ian -- his friend, Ian -- becomes a dragon. The scarred man's jaw clamps tight and his feral gaze watches, watches, the dragon's muscles bunch. He can't really help the instinctive need that sends him sprinting back the short distance to Miles. He manages, only just, not to put himself between Miles and Ian-the-dragon, but he does swear emphatically under his breath. "Why does it always have to be god-damned dragons." His hand is in Miles' gripping probably too tightly, eyes only then darting to Buster to see how the vampire is faring with this predator in their midst.

--

Miles remains unreasonably calm, at least compared to Tris. He might make a sound, clear his throat, something, for the Beast to ease up on his grip a little, but he doesn't try to pull away. Tris being protective is kind of hot, after all. "I thought you didn't like us. And now you want someone in your face? Make up your mind, boy," he says after Buster as the vampire tries to walk off.

--

The groan. The groan is for Buster. Miles' sound does get Tris to not only ease up on his grip, but gently rub the hand that he was gripping so hard while he turns an exasperated tone and look on the Kindred. "Buster," not that the vampire had a way of knowing this, but: "Ian was taken when he was nine years old. He just got back a couple of months ago. He's practically still nine. Don't say that shit to him. Say it to me, say it to Miles, say it to Jules if you want, but not Ian." It's a little more snippy than Tris probably means to be, but one hand goes up and rubs across Tris' face before pushing through the unruly flop of brown locks across his forehead.

"And after he just got through telling me how shitty it was to be stuck at his own Christmas party with everyone talking about sex around him and him not knowing what to do or say or how to leave." Poor kid. Despite the audience, Tris' forehead is finding Miles' temple for that tactile support. "What does happen to a vampire who bites one of us?" The question might be rhetorical. It might not. Tris might not even expect Miles to know. Maybe Tris wants to experiment?

--

.oO( Buster rolls 5 Dice )Oo................................................o.
 Roll: Intelligence + Occult
 Result: Success (1) -- (8 4 5 2 4)
.o...................................................oO( success (public) )Oo.

"Who said I didn't like you?" Buster says, before he raises his eyebrows. "You know what you didn't tell me before hand, Tris? *That*. I ain't gonna act on INFORMATION I DON'T KNOW, you banana."

"...Also, are you really doin' him any favors by infantilizing him, Tris?"

Then he wrinkles his nose. "Well, I wouldn't know firsthand, but I have HEARD that what happens is that we trip balls for the rest of the night, go insane and wake up with with a big fucking hangover." He glances back at the other two, and raises his shoulders with a sigh, as he walks off a few more steps.

--

"If he's well enough to be out on his own, he's well enough to learn to manage in the world the way he is," says Miles in a tough love sort of tone that Tris is probably growing all too familiar with. To Buster, he notes, "So you were saying you liked that we allegedly turn people into husks?" There's almost a tsk in the way the Winter says that. "They go a bit off, if you know them well enough to notice." Perhaps implying they're all a bit off already. "I've never stuck around while they slept to know how they wake up."

--

"I was about to tell you when-" Tris bites back, and then seems to realize the rest of that means he didn't actually provide Buster with the information. "Fuck, I'm tired." The words sound like an apology even though the words 'I'm sorry' do not appear within the phrase. And it doesn't stop Tris from saying, "I'm not infantilizing him, you prick." But 'prick' is sort of affectionate. It's like Tris is still adopting Buster in spite of all the objections raised to that.

Then he squints from Miles to Buster as though he recognizes something more alike in the two than either might like to admit. Then there's another reason to look between one and the other. Miles is the one that gets another sigh, "He's new, Miles. When I was new, I was in a fucking psych ward. We don't have to make it harder for him to want to leave the place he lives." He rubs his face with one hand and then seems to catch up to the most interesting piece of all this: Miles has experience. But it's to Buster that Tris calls, "So you've never done it?"

--

Buster raises an eyebrow. "It would've been rude if I'd just walked out of the house. I wanted to spend the day there as much as you wanted me to spend the day there, so I poked you till you told me to get out. Then I did! But yeah, I think Pixies like to cast us as the bad guys in their stageplay a little too often, and maybe it's annoying."

"What, bite one of you? Contrary to what you might think I don't investigate every new thing I find by putting it in my fuckin' mouth."

--

.oO( Miles rolls 4 Dice )Oo.................................................o.
 Roll: Resolve + Composure
 Result: Failure -- (4 7 3 6)
.o...................................................oO( failure (public) )Oo.
<Turned into Drama Fail>

"If he's that new, he shouldn't be flouncing around without proper supervision, then." Yeah, Miles just said flounce. But no one should focus on that, because now he's looking at Buster a bit like a one of them is a cat and one of them is a mouse who really wants to be played with. "I'm not sure most of us think about you all as much a you seem to think we do. But I've thought about you, and you mostly haven't been the bad guy. Not in a bad way, at least." A sexy way? "Do you want to put me in your mouth, Buster?"

--

"If he's that new, he shouldn't be flouncing around without proper supervision, then." Yeah, Miles just said flounce. But no one should focus on that, because now he's looking at Buster a bit like a one of them is a cat and one of them is a mouse who really wants to be played with. "I'm not sure most of us think about you all as much a you seem to think we do. But I've thought about you, and you mostly haven't been the bad guy. Not in a bad way, at least." A sexy way? "Do you want to put me in your mouth, Buster?"

--

Buster pauses, and then he raises an eyebrow. He straightens up a bit, and then he says, "...You have to slow-dance with me first. I'm not just gonna put out on demand, I'm a slut, not a whore." He slips his hands back into the pockets of his coat, and then says, "...If you're up for that, then it's a deal."

--

'Flounce.' Tris might have commented. He mouths the word at any rate as he pulls his forehead away from Miles' temple. But the Beast's attention is grasped and held in its entirety when he looks at his partner... at his partner looking at Buster... like that. "He has to dance with you first, but you were going to find out how far my scars go without a dance?" Maybe Tris doesn't think through this first thing that comes out of his mouth to Buster. Or maybe he does because it gives him time to look down at Miles. "Miles?" Actually, it's going to be more than looking down at Miles. It's going to be bringing up one of his hands and cupping the Fairest's cheek to turn his face to look up the short distance to Tris' eyes. "Is it safe?"

--

Miles clenches his jaw when Buster has stipulations, and he's about to speak when Tris is turning his face to look at him instead of the vampire. There's agitation in Miles' dark eyes for the interruption, and he tries to turn his gaze back on Buster without answering his partner's question. "Fine, whatever," to Buster. Miles might agree to do just about anything at this point if it means he gets what he wants, honestly.

--

Buster raises an eyebrow, and then says, "...Alright." He shrugs, and takes off his coat, before he takes out a phone, and thumbs through it. "...You have to pick a song, though." Then he glances up to Tris, and says, "I won't hurt him."

--

.oO( Tris rolls 6 Dice )Oo..................................................o.
 Roll: Wits + Empathy
 Result: Success (2) -- (5 4 10 1 10 2 2 5)
.o...................................................oO( success (public) )Oo.

Oh, no. Miles does not get to get out of this that easily. Tris steps bodily between Miles and Buster, blocking the vampire from Miles' line of sight and bringing his second hand to join the first in cupping the Fairest's face. "Stop. Look at me." Tris might be easy going by and large, but Miles has heard that tone of voice before and it's not going to take arguments. The Beast is capable of hauling the Fairest off over his shoulder if he has to. He might have to set himself on fire to do it, but details. "Tell me how this works. How do you do it safely and what I need to do for you after." So he's not actually saying no to Miles' evident and sudden need for Buster's mouth.

"I know you'll be careful," is said over his shoulder to Buster, which if Buster didn't realize from the fact that the Beast has his back to the Kindred is already quite a vote of trust from someone who doesn't actually trust all that easily. "This is for me." Because otherwise he might go a little crazy watching Miles get bitten by a vampire. Maybe he still will.

--

.oO( Miles rolls 4 Dice )Oo.................................................o.
 Roll: Resolve + Composure
 Result: Success (3) -- (7 10 8 10 1 4)
.o...................................................oO( success (public) )Oo.

The Winter's mantle turns downright frigid when Tris puts himself between Miles and the object of Miles' affec-- er, addiction. He even looks angry there for a moment, but it has the desired effect of de-escalating the Fairest's focus long enough for him to say, "I'll be fine." Because all of a sudden Miles apparently trusts Buster not to... what? Murder him in front of his partner? See, Miles doesn't think Buster is a bad guy! "He might need a hand, though. Do you have any Sinatra?" Miles asks the question of the vampire, again trying to shift away from Tris and holding out a hand to take the phone to find the song he apparently already decided on.

--

Buster considers that, and then he hands over the phone to Miles. "I'm partial to 'Send In The Clowns' myself but that may not be what we're goin' for here. Just sayin'." He looks between the two, and then pinches the bridge of this nose. He shouldn't be doing this, but he's gonna.

--

It's either in answer to the Winter's chill or simply as display of his own, but there's steam coming off the Summer Courtier now. The haze in the air around him swirls and is pushed aside as he darts in and kisses his partner before letting him go. The feel of the Glamour as it's called comes and goes and only Miles will feel the change within. But Tris isn't done there, he's catching on the Winter's hand and following him. Miles can have the other hand for the phone, but Tris is unbuttoning the cuff on this sleeve and rolling it up, revealing those auroral colors on the polychrome's skin. If Miles is going to do this, Tris is going to see what color he turns. Aside from that, there's a brooding silence to the Beast as he looks from Miles to Buster and back. When he's finished with the sleeve, he's pulling out his own phone and tap out a text.

<spend> Tris spends 1 (-1 points) of his Glamour pool, for Truefriend Ties That Bind Benefit: Steadfast Condition for Miles and Tris.
<text> Tris to Jules: Need you at our place tonight. If you don't hear from me in the next thirty minutes to let you know we're on our way home, come to City Park. Between the parking lot and the bridge on the running loop.
<text> Tris to Jules: Sorry.


--

The look Miles gives Buster and the song he mentions is a strange one. "Maybe next time," is all he says as he takes the phone to look for the one he wants, attention distracted by both glamour and Tris rolling his sleeve back up. The Fairest looks like he might complain about that for a moment, but he must think better of it. Or maybe he just doesn't want to draw this out any longer than necessary. "Shall we?" he says to the Gangrel, holding out a hand to draw him in against him as 'I've Got You Under My Skin' starts playing on the phone.

--

<spend> Buster spends 1 (-1 points) of their Vitae pool, for Dexterity + 2.
.oO( Buster rolls 7 Dice )Oo................................................o.
 Roll: Dexterity + Athletics + 2
 Result: Success (4) -- (10 7 5 9 7 8 8 7)
.o...................................................oO( success (public) )Oo.

Buster obliges, taking Miles's hand in his -- warm, not cold or hard, and he puts his hand on the small of the changeling's back and takes his other hand. He is.. a magnificent dancer, his steps smooth, the movement of his body damn near hypnotizing as he holds the changeling close. He's got his gaze on Miles's, and then he *kisses the changeling's fingers*, the touch of his lips warm and dry. "Just tell me when you're ready," He murmurs into Miles's ear, as he dances with him.

--

.oO( Tris rolls 4 Dice )Oo..................................................o.
 Roll: Manipulation + Composure
 Result: Success (2) -- (2 10 8 2 2)
.o...................................................oO( success (public) )Oo.

Tris doesn't go far. He doesn't give them much in the way of privacy and dark eyes follow everything. Still, when the phone in his hand rings, he answers and lifts it to his ear. Can there be any doubt who he's talking to? His expression is kept impressively impassive for a man who doesn't have much of a poker face, but he stands his sentry vigil over this very bad decision and doesn't interfere as he provides the briefest possible responses to the man on the other end of the phone. "We'll see you at the house." Because Tris isn't exactly a tattletale, but he's also not, apparently, willing to be alone in the uncertain circumstances that follow. Maybe if Miles had been more forthcoming in his answers... but it wasn't so, so now Miles can look forward to seeing Jules later, too.

--

.oO( Miles rolls 6 Dice )Oo.................................................o.
 Roll: Manipulation + Persuasion
 Result: Failure -- (7 4 3 6 1 5)
.o...................................................oO( failure (public) )Oo.
<Used Steadfast Condition to make this a 1 success roll and resolve the condition>

Is it ironic, then, that Miles' skin is cool to the touch? It probably suits the fact that he dances not unlike an old white dude. It's fortunate that he has Buster to lead, even if he doesn't need more reasons to want to be close to the vampire right this moment. "Jesus christ, I've been ready since you climbed down the wall in the shower." Yeah, that's not weird. "We won't let anything happen to you," he adds. Is that ominous? He sounds like he's trying to be reassuring, anyway. Convincing.

--

Buster quirks his mouth, and then says, "That's weirdly one of the most flattering things anyone's ever said to me." Then he leans in. His kiss is warm, soft, seductive and full of promise, the kiss of a man who'll love you and then leave you, again and again. Then his lips trace along Miles's chin and along his jawbone, down to his throat. His fangs extend, sharp as razors, clean and gleaming and white, and Tris can see them as he opens his mouth and tilts his head, turning slightly and closing his mouth on Miles's neck, fangs puncturing the skin neatly, as he closes his mouth on the wound and begins to suck.

<regain> Buster regains 1 point of their Vitae pool.
<spend> Miles spends 1 (-1 points) of his Glamour pool.
Miles takes some lethal and is now lightly bleeding.
<regain> Buster regains 1 point of their Vitae pool.

--

Tris' eyes never leave the pair. He follows every movement of the dance, both the one with feet and arms and the far more complex one of kisses to fingertips through that conversation he's held, and then the words from Miles that have his expression drawing into a grimace. Still, he does nothing to interfere, nothing to stop this. He does shift on his feet a step closer as fangs come out, some instinct pressing on the Beast to defend against this thing that Miles so obviously wants. It means that Tris is up against Miles in the next moment, close enough that his Summer heat can be felt battling that frigid Winter mantle and hissing off in a sizzle of steam. It means he's right there when sharp fangs puncture Miles' throat, watching from inches away.

--

For a man whose partner is right there, Miles kisses the vampire back with the earnestness of a man who knows exactly what he wants. Spoiler alert: it's Buster right now, sorrynotsorry. There's a sound the Fairest makes when fangs finally pierce skin, some mix of welcomed pain and realized anticipation. It's more of a groan when Buster drinks, Miles pressing closer but largely lost in the sensations of the vampire's Kiss, and his fix, within the next few moments.

--

It's not a long bite. It only lasts for a few seconds, the little death -- he hears the Changeling's heartbeat and smells his blood and his arms tighten around Miles's body, holding him close as he worries his mouth against the wound. Then he pulls away, licking it shut. "That was some of the best blood I've ever tasted." He says, "And I think I shouldn't have done that." His eyes are far away, and haunted. "I really shouldn't have done that." But then he's licking the inside of his mouth... and he's kissing Miles again, the taste of copper on his lips.

One of his hands has wandered down to squeeze Miles's butt.

--

.oO( Tris rolls 5 Dice )Oo..................................................o.
 Roll: Dexterity + Stealth
 Result: Success (1) -- (9 7 1 7 2)
.o...................................................oO( success (public) )Oo.

While they're kissing... again... there's a new smell. Blood. But this isn't frosted, ice-kissed blood. This is blood whose smell might as well be spice, radiance and heat. If the smell alone isn't enough to break the kiss, the fact that the smell comes closer, closer, and then stays as a new cologne on Miles' neck in just the spot where the puncture wounds still exist-- or did until that blood of Tris' smeared over the wound and it knit itself shut through force of his Glamour. The words might not have been clear before, since they were spoken softly from the start and some people might have had other priorities, but Tris' quiet words aren't for Miles and they aren't for Buster. They're for something entirely unseen, but there all the same. It's a story of a man who would do anything, anything for the man he loved, including find his way to the underworld, just to send his lover home. That's part of the price of the magic that lets Miles' wound appear on Tris' neck. "Son of a bitch," is not part of the story. That's Tris touching his own neck, which is bleeding, along with the inch long cut on his hand that he inflicted with the pen knife now going back into a pocket. If they haven't stopped kissing, they're going to get one warning. "It's time to go, Miles."

<spend> Tris spends 2 (-2 points) of his Glamour pool, for Shared Burden.
Tris takes some lethal and is now bleeding.

--

There's a groan of protest when it's over already, but for all his protest, Miles seems quite content to kiss the vampire again regardless of his own blood on the Gangrel's lips. The aurora visible on his forearm have run the range from red and white to blue and purple, and there's a very faint scent of rose on the Fairest's skin. "We can't just leave him," is a more vocal protest, and Miles doesn't seem particularly inclined to disentangle himself from the vampire just yet. Not even a show of gratitude for Tris' selfless actions. But, frankly, he's not going to put up much fight just now even if the Beast physically drags him off.

--

"It's fine." Buster says, "I'm fine. Just fine... everything's fine." He proceeds to take off his clothes, one piece at a time... and he just... leaves them in a pile on the ground.

Then the ground swallows him. Solid earth *opens* underneath him and he's sucked down into it, and then it closes up after him like he was never there.

--

.oO( Tris rolls 6 Dice )Oo..................................................o.
 Roll: Strength + Stamina
 Result: Success (3) -- (5 1 7 10 8 10 2 5)
.o...................................................oO( success (public) )Oo.

Normally, Tris is a pretty good friend. But there are things that test the limits of friendship. Buster makes it easier by vanishing into the ground. He doesn't have a target for whatever anger he's feeling, and given that this Crimson Courtier has an exceptionally strong connection to his Court's patron, there can be no doubt that he's feeling more than a little. He growls as he doesn't dignify Miles' protests with a verbal response and steps around the Fairest to face him briefly before dipping and hauling the slenderer man up over his shoulder to start striding in the direction of the parking lot, where he will drive the damned Audi home, thank you very much, Mr. Addict.