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"Stay." The singular claw on the door, the illusion of choice, the tone voiced like a request but Guy didn't need to read Jasper's mind to know there was only one valid option.
"I really should be going."
"I insist."
A roll of his eyes as he steps away, slipping off his shoes and heading to the crushed velvet couch — a decision, not something he'd have thought was much of a Jasper thing, but—
"Previous owner."
"Get out of my head."
"Not my fault your thoughts are fucking loud."
Guy glares, vaguely aware that he might be a touch cocky for someone in the same room as an old-ass vampire able to snap his neck in less time than it would take to finish his second thought. "You're basically broadcasting them — and, one, taking offence to old-ass. I'm in my prime, dude." Not wrong. "Second," There's a grin, a turn to Jasper's smile that just screamed he'd managed to catch that stray thought too and it makes Guy sit up, try and focus on building some mental blockade to keep the damned man out. "I wouldn't do that to you. I like you well enough, you know?"
Right.
Sure and if Guy was to actually take everything at face value, Jasper did promise to never lie to him.
And his foster mother hadn't been paid off by a secret organisation to raise him his entire life.
"Apparently." A bark of laughter as Jasper throws himself into the armchair opposite, long legs lounging against the coffee table, leaving scuff marks of leather shoes— And there's a point, why bother taking off your shoes if the homeowner's not doing it?
Ingrained manners, or something?
"So, what now?"
"Now?" Jasper stares, eyes unblinking, ice-pale blue and silver lashes.
Dead people were cold to the touch, weren't they? "We relax."
"Easy for you to say." Even as he says it, Guy relaxes a little further into the sofa — it's plush, smooth, surprisingly cool to the touch, despite the warmth of the room. A pretty deep green that he couldn't really name properly. Leaf-green. Sort of. He wasn't one for recognising esoteric colour names. "For how long?"
"Until you finally figure out how to chill." Once again, simple enough for a person who had teeth that could maul a neck and nails sharp enough to slice through it. "You're tense." No shit, Sherlock. "Want a massage?"
"What the-"
"Can't take a joke, pup?" The wariness doesn't fade and though he can't really see his own face, Guy is plenty aware he'd been gaping at Jasper, mouth feeling particularly dry as a hand tilts his chin up and closes it for him. "But I'm taking that as a no, then?"
"Hands off." The scrape of Jasper's finger leaves an involuntary shiver as it slips away, the vampire staring down at him as Guy actively tries to ignore the urge to place his own hand there and chase the strange sensation left behind. Not quite numb, certainly feeling but—
"Of course, nothing if not a gentleman." One who was still quite firmly in the mortal's personal space, barely two inches away. "Won't do anything you don't ask for."
Eyes narrow, that tone entirely leading and implying something — even if Guy couldn't quite figure out what at the moment. Or didn't want to figure out, rather, a flicker in the direction of the offending hand now neatly tucked away in a pocket. "You mind?"
"Mind what?" Mercifully, Jasper had moved away, sitting himself back in the armchair, leaving a puzzled Guy behind.
The vampire leans forward at the question, a reproachful, entirely disingenuous expression on his face. "If I smoke, 'course."
"Vampires smoke?"
"Plenty — won't kill my lungs, so why not?" On account of the whole being dead thing.
Right.
There's still the issue of it probably stinking up the whole room, but there was a familiarity that came with the smoke. At this point, it haunted Guy's every step, the scent of cigarettes and ashes clinging to his room over at his organisation approved accommodation and…Well, his apartment back in the states fared no better in that regard.
Vaguely, Guy recalls that second-hand smoking is in fact a problem but he was far likelier to die by whatever supernatural creature he found out existed next week or even, in his sleep tonight if Jasper decided to get rid of him, so-
"Go for it." Genuinely? He was kind of curious.
Not about the smoking. He'd seen plenty of smokers before, but as Jasper slips out a long paper tube, a silver lighter in another hand — was it actually silver? Weren't vampires allergic to it or something? With no actual answer, walls seemingly having held firm or Jasper not entirely interested in snooping around Guy's mind, he repeats the question out loud, if only for some semblance of something to take his mind off everything else.
"It is silver, you're not wrong." A flame licks at Jasper's fingers, a thin plume of smoke curling around them before he brings it to his lips and-
Focus, Guy.
"Do you smoke?" A blink at the question, the attempt to focus broken up again and he's not quite sure whether it had been on purpose, but Guy wouldn't put it past Jasper to have asked it with just that goal in mind.
"You're offering?"
"Eh…" What was up with tonight and staring? Was it just an excessive amount of eye contact or was Guy simply not used to being noticed? Unlikely. He was noticed plenty when he still didn't have his medication. Sudden outbursts tended to do that to you, made people look at you like you're a freak. Dangerous. A liability.
So, no, it wasn't being unnoticed, not quite.
A different kind of being perceived that left him off-kilter.
A little bit too…revealed?
"Nah."
"Why?" For all that Guy had zero desire to smoke, the answer managed to offend him. "I could handle it." He'd gone through plenty of shit before managing to squirrel a prescription out of an overworked doctor, a cigarette was hardly going to wreck him.
"No doubt. No offence meant." Jasper's hands go up in that mock surrender, waving the lit cigarette like a piece of bait at this point.
"Then why not?" Easier questions to ask than everything else, things that Jasper would evade or dance around or push aside. This? This question was safe. "It's not going to kill me."
Probably.
"Probably." Jasper nods in agreement, the fact a little unsettling but they both knew that there were far deadlier things that could get Guy before the cigs would have the chance. So, even without trespassing to dig that thought out, it came to little surprise they were of the same opinion. There's no further response beyond that though, no extra explanation as to why, the older man simply taking a slow drag in lieu of a response.
Why?
"Tsk, tsk." The reprimand is soft, entirely counteracted by the way Jasper simply leans back.
Scared? Stupid question, honestly because there was nothing to be scared of by handing Guy a cigarette. It wasn't a knife, or a gun, though he's pretty sure that'd be ineffective against a creature like Jasper. A stake? Did that even work if silver didn't? Kudos to the Talamascan Education System.
"See, I would, but it's my last one."
"You know what they say about caring?"
"You don't even want it."
Fuck him.
Jasper was right. It'd be terrible. Guy hated the actual taste of cigarettes, hated the risk of burning his fingers, had hacked up a lung on more than one occasion trying in his early teens and stuck to pills when he was experimenting since then, but. "You reading my mind again?"
"No." For such a short word, he sure does draw it out. "Just a touch…greedy, you know?"
It's stupid.
So stupid, but then again, everything that Guy had done since coming to London had that same brand of brash stupidity painted over it. A part of his brain nudges him, prods him to say he's being goaded. Roped into some sort of trap for the vampire's amusement. He decides to ignore that part, regardless of how right it could be.
Instead, he pushes himself off the couch and walks with some degree of confidence he could pretend to be feeling, Jasper's eyes eternally fixated on him. Have they ever slipped in their focus since they've been in the room?
"What are you thinking, doll?"
"That you need a lesson in sharing." Bemused. That's definitely a word for the look on Jasper's face, a glint in his eye that seems to taunt Guy forward, to try and do whatever he was thinking. Hell, Jasper might even know what he was planning. It wasn't like he was exactly in his right mind. It wasn't a big deal. It was just—
"Gonna be my teacher?"
"Not sure whether the teaching would stick." Abort mission, retreat, you're doing something insane, Guy.
"I don't know, old dogs can learn new tricks." I thought I was the pup. A sliver of fang at that, a genuine, startled laugh, a lax grip on the cigarette and Guy leans down, snatching it from Jasper's fingers before the other can protest.
Of course he doesn't.
Jasper could've prevented it entirely.
This was a willing surrender, of sorts, even as the vampire was stifling his laughter, Guy was quick, but Jasper would always be quicker. If the other didn't want him to have it, there would have been zero chance in a contest of physical dexterity.
They both knew it.
There's a warmth in the filter, the cigarette burning away, twisting to adjust his grip on it, careful to avoid singed fingers, the task a little harder as he watches the watcher, Jasper's attention now having shifted on the cigarette. Or Guy's hand. It was hard to tell, or so Guy told himself, bringing it to his own lips, a hint of menthol and something darker the first thing he tastes.
Earthy, almost, strangely sweet if a little sharp — there's a small cut on the inside of his mouth and he's not quite sure whether it is whatever it is that makes his mouth sting or simply the aftermath of that first inhale. Eyes blink through the haze of smoke, acutely aware that Jasper seemingly hadn't moved by a hair, the rapt attention now once more gifted (or cursed) on his face.
The lightheadedness hits almost immediately after, the bitterness of the nicotine follows shortly in step and the taste is…similar, still earthy, still sweet but not quite right, whatever had lingered consumed entirely by it. Bitter, too and ashy and a strong reminder of why he hated cigarettes in the first place, whatever slight hint of other that came with the first drag entirely gone by the second.
Not for him, for sure.
To his credit, Guy manages to hold out for another five seconds.
Five seconds before past experiences repeat and he begins coughing, dropping the cigarette and barely managing to sputter out an apology as it lands on Jasper's thigh, the vampire hissing and putting it out quickly before reversing their roles and thrusting Guy into his chair.
"Not your vice," There's a humour to Jasper's voice, one hand on Guy's back, helping him keep steady as he hacks another sharp exhale. "Pity it looked pretty on you."
For a minute, Guy considers a sharp retort, but between the foul taste in his mouth and the fact his lungs certainly disagreed with the nicotine, his brain fails to formulate a thought beyond a keening sense of discomfort as Jasper, and the support his hand had provided, which was the only thing Guy honestly missed, disappears.
So much for a lesson.
"Drink." A glass of water in front of his nose, a reminder of how quickly vampires can move, a poor attempt at suspicion entirely ruined by the fact he grabs for it and savours each cool gulp. "Slow down, I've got you." Next time, Guy would listen to that part of his brain that said 'Hey, let's not do that.' (This was of course, a lie, Guy would continue to actively ignore his better senses).
Never again.
"Yeah, I'm gonna keep you away from them for real this time."
Fuck you.
"I did tell you."
Should've stopped me.
"Baby, I just wanted to test a theory."