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It’s Drift’s turn today, and she wants it to be anyone else’s.
Wait, ah, that’s selfish. She shouldn’t want that. No, no, even worse, she should be glad it’s her turn! Yeah! Because it means Owen and Scott trust her! Drift is allowed to go in by herself! Cleo has to have Owen sit in with her, and Cleo’s the coolest person ever!
So, really, it’s good that it’s Drift’s turn. She’s fitting in. She’s wanted. Scott won’t throw her out or hurt her again or anything like that.
Be good. Don’t be a coward, Drift! She’s not afraid anymore! This castle has given her everything. She can’t disappoint it now.
Because it’s her turn, Owen pushes her through the castle towards Legs’s… Louis’s… Legs’s… to the room in question.
Drift isn’t sure why they need to take turns to sit in with him. It’s not like he ever tries to run. Maybe she’d ask Cleo why.
Well, Cleo’s been kind of tight-lipped about this whole thing, even in private to Drift. It… kind of hurts, but Drift will respect Cleo’s space.
But with Shelby and Avid acting so… unusual about it, who else is Drift supposed to talk to?
…Maybe Pyro could-
Agh, no. Stop being so predictable. Of course Drift just wants to run away from this responsibility by asking too many questions. But Scott’s given her a chance to not be that person anymore.
Anyway, it’s not like she could ask Owen. He’s always upset when they have to take turns. Drift wants to ask him precisely why, even if she has her theories.
Owen opens the door without knocking – which is normal when you’re so familiar with someone, right? – and shoves Drift inside. She yelps, but she doesn’t want to risk upsetting Owen further by complaining.
“Fix him,” Owen growls, then he slams the door shut, trapping Drift inside.
…She shouldn’t think like that. There’s no trap. No orchids. No reason to be scared now.
Drift wrings her hands and forces herself to pay attention to the room. Gather evidence, do what you’re supposed to…
Unfortunately, her gained awareness means she now hears the sobbing that dominates the room’s ambiance.
Legundo – and it’s definitely Legundo, based on how mad Owen was – is on the bed. Knees to his chest, forehead to his knees, hands to his face. He looks… scared. It’s unbelievable. He’d always seemed so confident. So brave. Not like Drift.
The crying seemed to be all he could manage whenever he got like this. Drift still doesn’t entirely understand how this whole situation is supposed to work, and that frustrates her.
Whenever she raises questions, Shelby chitters away about how romantic reincarnation is, Avid giggles about what Legundo “deserves,” and Cleo shuts Drift down entirely.
…Cleo’s been away from the castle a lot lately. Drift hopes they’re alright. It’s dangerous to go out right now, with the town missing the doctor.
Well, it just proved that the vampires are right to be on the offensive. Things were getting pretty tense. Drift hopes Cleo can convince Pearl to come where it’s safe, and she’s happy to help in that effort.
Anyway, the most useful information Drift has gained is from the man himself. Or… the man who’s in the man himself? Too confusing.
Louis is a good man. Drift can’t say she was expecting the ghost of Owen’s sire to come back through possessing the doctor, but at this point, could she really be surprised by anything in Oakhurst? Anyway, Louis never pushes Drift away when she asks questions. He answers them sincerely and with genuine interest.
He’s very nice to her. Not the way Scott is, when he gives Drift his clothes or lets her stay here, but actually nice. Like he sees Drift. Like he understands her. No wonder Owen cares about him so much.
So it was Louis that previously explained what is currently happening. At times, Legs is forced back in control of himself. It’s jarring, uncomfortable, and despite Louis’s best efforts, all Legs can do when this happens is cry.
And Owen’s expecting Drift to do something about it.
“Hey, bud,” Drift greets through a strained smile. “It’s Drift.”
Legs gives a full-body shudder. His head shakes, and Drift catches his fangs flashing.
“Um… I’m gonna sit next to you, okay?” she continues.
Drift slowly moves towards the doctor, watching him. He doesn’t give any indication that she’s unwelcome, so she sits herself on the bed. Hands folded neatly in her lap, Drift peers at the doctor with wide eyes.
“Legs,” she says softly. “Is there anything I can do for you?”
A cracked, dry sob.
“Oh!” Drift grabs a bottle from her belt. “I bet you’re hungry, right? Louis said your body has a stronger reaction to the thirst.” Though he said it flippantly, like it wasn’t a problem for him.
Drift lets out a squeak when the bottle is snatched from her grip. Between gasps, Legs downs the blood with desperate speed. His one red eye twitches in its sclera.
When he’s done, Drift takes the bottle from his hands, and Legs returns to his balled position, trembling. Drift wonders if Legs’s fangs will snap off with how hard he’s gritting his teeth. He covers his mouth with his hands, but she still hears him whimpering.
“Hey, hey…” Drift takes a breath she no longer needs. “It’s okay, Legs. It’s okay.”
Steeling herself, Drift places a hand on Legs’s shoulder. Miraculously, he tenses further under her careful touch.
“It’s okay,” she soothes repetitively. “I’m sorry you’re hurting. You… were there for me after I turned. So I’m gonna be here for you now, okay? I’m not gonna leave you.”
A broken sob wrenches itself out of Legundo’s parched throat.
Drift scooches closer. Their equally cold bodies press against each other. “It’s okay, buddy.”
Legs mumbles something into his hand. At that, Drift perks up. Usually, he can’t say anything.
“Legs? What is it?”
“Sorry. I’m sorry,” Legs mumbles.
“Oh.” Drift shakes her head despite Legs not looking at her. “No, no, Legs, you’re okay. You have nothing to be sorry about.”
Legundo laughs. No, he cackles, throwing his head back. It’s a twisted, broken noise. He sounds like Avid. His fangs strain as he grins, then the moment passes and he retreats back into himself.
Drift realizes she flinched back from him, so she chides herself and returns to her place.
“I’m sorry,” Legs whimpers. “I’m sorry.”
Poor Legs. Drift doesn’t know what to do. God, she’s so useless. Worthless. What is she supposed to do? What would her friends, her brave friends, do here?
“Did I tell you how I got my outfit?” Drift blurts. She backtracks, “That is… uh… We can talk about something else. You can just hear me talk. Would you… want to hear that?”
Legundo shakes. He doesn’t say anything, so Drift takes that as a go ahead.
Drift recounts her adventure with Avid, Shelby, and… Scott, how Scott was generous enough to lend them his clothes. How Shelby seemed so confident, and how Avid had looked so excited, not at all like the person driven by fear that Drift had roomed with in Merp Manor. Not like himself.
…Legs lived right next to them. He used to be their neighbor.
Well, now he lives with them. That’s an improvement, right?
“-and Scott was telling me I needed a lot of work on my outfit, so it was so cool of him to take me under his wing like that!”
A choked sound. Drift blinks out of her story to find the doctor briefly glancing at her.
“There’s-“ Legs digs the heels of his hands into his eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with your clothes.”
Drift processes that he’s been keeping up with her. “Oh, thank you? I mean, Shelby and Avid and Scott said I look nice, so-”
“No,” Legs hisses. “Your clothes. Yours. You don’t need Scott’s. They were your clothes.”
Oh.
Sheepishly, Drift tries to smile. “Come on, you don’t have to do that. Everyone says I look nicer now.” Can’t exactly check her own reflection. “My clothes were nothing special.”
“They were yours,” Legs snarls. “Not Scott’s fucking uniform.”
How often has Drift heard the doctor curse? Never? Man, things really have changed around here.
“It’s not like that,” Drift argues gently.
…Hadn’t Scott critiqued the color scheme of Drift’s current outfit? Saying it wasn’t as “statement-y” as his and Shelby’s? But he wasn’t being mean, just honest!
Drift has to leave her old self behind. That fear, that uncertainty. She doesn’t need her old clothes. Everyone likes her more when she looks like this.
Well, apparently not everyone.
“Um… Thanks for looking out for me, Legs,” Drift murmurs. “Even when… I know it’s hard for you.”
Legs sniffs. He looks every bit the corpse he is. Wait, don’t think like that.
“Are you feeling better?” Drift asks. “Are… Can you tell me how you’re doing?”
At her words, Legs uncurls himself bit by bit. He glances around the room like he’s not used to the sight, and then down at himself with the same lack of familiarity.
The vampirism adjusted things, of course. Like it had for Drift. Beyond that, Louis has changed Legundo. He’s taken care of him, cleaned him up and dressed him in fine clothes. Not Scott’s clothes, but Louis’s style, altered for Legundo's bigger frame. Drift watches Legundo tug at the cravat, his heeled boot – unblemished in a way Legundo's own boots hadn’t been – scraping the ground as he finally sits properly.
Legs doesn’t look like himself.
But he’s safer now. It’s safer in the castle.
Drift’s neck hurts.
“Legs?” she asks. “You can talk to me.”
Tears still roll down Legs’s face, but he finally looks at Drift. “Why are you here?”
“I… I’m just here to sit with you,” Drift answers.
“Why?” Legs questions, hoarse voice cracking. “What’s the point? It doesn’t matter.”
“What doesn’t matter?”
“This- Me being here. You shouldn’t have to see this. It will be over soon,” he explains shakily.
Drift takes Legs’s hand in her own. “That doesn’t mean I can’t sit here with you, bud.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Legs repeats. “I’m more useful when he’s here.”
A pause. “Louis?”
Legs hums in the affirmative.
Lip trembling that she tries to still. “Legs, we want you here too.”
“No,” the doctor argues immediately. “No. No.”
“I mean it!” Drift insists. “You’re one of us now.”
The shaking picks up again. Legs stretches out his mouth, as if his teeth are too big for it. “I should be gone. It should just be him. What’s the use?”
“I don’t want you to be gone. I want you to be safe,” Drift argues. “Legs, I want to protect you.”
“Don’t,” Legs dismisses. Then, his voice has a bit more power behind it. “You need to get out of here. It’s not safe for you here.”
Drift has to look away. “It’s the only place I can go.”
Silence hangs, long enough that Drift squirms, because she was expecting Legs to keep the argument going. But when she turns back around, Legs is gone.
Legs is gone, and Louis is back.
And, man, the difference between them. Drift watches the details unfold with open eyes.
The first thing to give is the open expression that Louis blooms on Legs’s face. It’s so unprotected, so unlike the doctor, that part of Drift wants to back away. But the face molds into something so concerned that she feels herself relax.
And oh, the concern. Even when Legs and Louis, they’re so distinct. Legs’s concern is more practiced, for one. They both have an authority about them, but Louis has a certain assuredness that Legs doesn’t. Where Legs is aged like a reliable leather coat, Louis is aged like preserved wine.
“Drift?” Louis asks, and his voice. Unrestrained. “Are you alright?”
“Huh?” Drift wonders what she looks like. Does she look upset? “Oh, yeah, I’m fine!”
“I know you hate to see him in such a state,” Louis continues.
“It’s fine,” Drift assures. “I actually got to talk to him!”
A kind smile. “Is that so? That’s a relief.”
Drift shifts on the bed. “I’m… worried about him.”
“I as well. I assure you, I’m doing everything I can to make this process as comfortable as possible,” Louis says sincerely.
“Thank you…” Drift replies. “So, what’s going to happen to-”
The door bursts open, and Owen hurries into the room. His expression is expectant.
“Louis?” he asks, voice smaller than Drift’s ever heard it.
“I’m here,” Louis answers.
Drift stands, understanding that she shouldn’t get between the two of them. The three… No, just two. “Uh, I’m gonna go see what Avid and Shelby are doing.”
Owen spares Drift a glance, managing to tear his eyes away from his beloved. “Good work,” he offers gruffly.
Drift feels a pang of relief. Owen doesn’t want to hurt her anymore.
When Owen looks back at Louis, it’s as if nothing else matters anymore. He looks vulnerable in a way that feels wrong on Owen.
“You’re back,” Owen says softly.
Louis smiles, stretching Legs’s face, and Drift feels a stab of-
Of…
Rage.
Drift smothers it and takes her cue to leave. She mumbles through a goodbye and exits Louis’s room.
She’s solved the earlier mystery in her head. It’s not Legs’s room. Nothing is his.
Maybe it’s safer that way.