she didn't like to be talked about

[rhinemaid]

Who: Ilde Decima & Ivan
What: An inquiry, a conversation, a lack of car, assumed makeouts to close.
Where: Chimer Drive-in.
When: Sukkardi night, let's say?
Notes: Written on gdocs and formatted here for your viewing pleasure!
Warnings: Discussion of mind control and influence.

After the party at the Apache, Ilde had more than enough else to do that she hadn’t spoken to Ivan since; he, presumably, had business of his own. She imagined, a bit vaguely, that it involved being tall and sardonic at things.

Still. A thought occurred to her, eventually, and it seemed worth sharing-

Ivan, I have a question for you. It isn’t about property law.

The response was reasonably prompt.

The sort of request to ask over CiD, or one that requires meeting in person?

I’d probably err on the side of meeting in person.

I’m free after 10 this evening, if you’d like to pick a place. So long as that’s not too late for you.

I probably wasn’t going to be sleeping much anyway. There’s a drive-in in Chimer. Not many cars.

That will do.

Ivan was a little early, in fact; his errands had not taken quite as long as anticipated. He looked impeccable, as usual, and glanced around to get a measure of the place, and to find a spot if Ilde had not yet arrived.

She was a few minutes later - five or ten - but not so long that she had a hard time finding him once she did arrive, a blanket folded under her arm and her purse on the opposite hip. “I took the liberty of coming prepared,” she said, a little drolly, as she considered his suit and found it more than a little entertaining in their surroundings.

“I should have brought something to drink,” he allowed, but “I thought that it would probably do too much for you and too little for me.”

“I probably drank enough for the next six months at the Apache.” ...not that this would actually stop her from drinking again in the foreseeable future, but the point could still be made, as she spread the blanket out on the ground and situated herself - the movie wouldn’t start for a little while, people were still arriving, milling around, finding their places and their friends. Ilde and Ivan were slightly out of the way, which suited, considering her inquiries.

He settled himself. “There is something profoundly wrong about a drive-in without cars,” he observed, as he folded his legs.

“You’re a person walking around without a pulse.” Ergo, her tone implied, he was one to talk about profoundly wrong.

Ivan’s expression was wry. “Wrong in a different sense, but point, I suppose. I can’t say I’m fond of the things Baedal lacks, generally, cars and an abundant tobacco supply among the rest.” He’d live (or not), but even so.

“Tobacco is fair.” She’d gone cold turkey, once, and while it had been one of many, many things that had been wrong at that point in time, she still didn’t especially want to have to do it again. “But I wanted to ask you a question about being wrong and unnatural.” Possibly she would’ve phrased that a different way if she were talking to someone other than Ivan.

Amused, he said, “So you brought me here, car-less, as an object lesson? Case in point?”

“No, but your priorities are fascinating.” If she found a toy car for sale anywhere, he was probably going to end up with it. “I wanted to ask you about the things you can do.” And couldn’t do. The incident with Isobel was still there in the back of her mind, and beyond that she had a certain amount of curiosity about what each distinct type could and could not do. If she could distinguish between them more specifically, that would be interesting.

He considered her for a moment. “Why?”

“Because I’m curious.” That was about as enlightening as ‘because I asked you’, and she knew it full well. “There was an encounter I had. And I’m curious.”

“I don’t know yet if it suits me, having you know all my secrets.” He sat back, leaning on one hand. “Why don’t you ask a more specific question.”

Ilde’s expression was slightly doubtful - she didn’t imagine she knew even a fraction of his secrets, in reality - but she conceded the point. “Can you make people do things?” ...presumably she didn’t mean ‘with threats, or blackmail’. She was relatively confident he was both capable and willing, in those cases, and not immediately interested in whether or not he’d made a habit of those practises in Baedal. Her curiosity was, as she’d said, more esoteric.

“Not like the Dracula films, no,” he said, after a moment. “I’ve never really felt a need, not recently at least.” Between his physical power, his connections, and his experience, he could manipulate most people, or work around them, well enough for his own ends.

“Did you know anyone who could?” Since his answer had been slightly ambiguous, and she was turning it over and examining it for use. “I don’t think anything is like Gary Oldman, in general.”

He laughed at that. “Gary Oldman was a man apart, it’s true. No - I wouldn’t put it past some of the truly Old Ones, to have talents they’ve not shared, but I would be surprised. We’re not magicians.”

As tempted as she was to ask him a few more questions - starting with these ‘Old Ones’ of his - she was more or less satisfied with with ‘no, not me’ and it seemed reasonable to leave it at the question she’d intended to ask, if he was going to start getting reluctant about telling her anything. Presumably picking at him would only make him more reluctant, and the point remained that they were in a public place, where incautious conversation might still be overheard. You never knew.

“I hate to think where you’d pull the rabbit from,” she said, glancing up as the film began. It didn’t look like it was from Earth, which was immediately sort of interesting.

He laughed again, low, glancing up at the film as well. “May I ask what brought the subject up?”

“I got off on the wrong foot with someone,” she said, vaguely, shaking her head. “It made me thoughtful.”

Ivan glanced over at her. “Someone who could do that?” He hadn’t heard of such a thing before, but he tended to be open-minded.

“Not to me,” she shrugged, almost insouciant. “It doesn’t matter. I was just curious if you could.” In theory; she hadn’t thought he’d have been any more capable of compelling her than Isobel had turned out to be.

“I haven’t met many other vampires here yet, but it would be unusual, in answer to your question.”

“I can do it,” she said, after a moment; it seemed like a fair trade, so he couldn’t fuss about being interrogated. Not that this wouldn’t make a particularly odd interrogation, in some dark corner of Chimer’s drive-in while half-watching a space opera that had been filmed on location.

“Have you tried on a vampire?” He didn’t ask, even by implication, if she’d tried it on him.

“No, I try not to do it at all, usually.” Her fine control was...not, really, very fine, and she was wary of practising in Baedal, where she could never quite guess what she might accidentally do through interaction with other species. She was more or less sure of her ability to influence humans in more or less the way she intended, but less sure of anything else, and there was always the risk of coming up awkwardly against someone else’s ability. (Like Isobel had, with her. It wasn’t an equation she wanted to be on the other side of.) “It’s very Die Lorelei.”

“Then it’s probably as well for me that I’m not a sailor.” He smiled, attention at least cursorily on the film. “Though I suppose you getting me drunk does count as impairing my judgment.”

“I didn’t know that was going to happen.” There were a few moments quiet - something exploded on screen - and then, as a second objection occurred to her, “Technically, you did it to yourself.” A joke was just waiting to be made about drinking responsibly or drinking and driving or something, but she mercifully refrained.

He laughed. “Well yes. Certainly if we do it again, I will be.”

“You wouldn’t be able to say you weren’t warned. What were you talking to Réjean about?” A sharp left-turn in the conversation, not wholly unusual when the conversation in question was being carried on with Ilde. Presumably she wasn’t intending to associate the subjects.

“You see everything, don’t you?” he asked, a bit laconic. “I was just trying to establish some ground rules. I’m not used to places I can’t leave.”

“I didn’t see what you were talking about.” A point well made, she felt, falling briefly quiet as someone made their way past, picking out a path through picnic blankets back from the concessions.

Once the person had passed, he said, “The closed system is a new factor. But it’s nothing that can’t be worked around.”

“Resourceful,” she said, nudging him with her knee. Weren’t they all, though –if she had to pick a common element among Baedal’s recent arrivals, it seemed like they were all in motion, not orchestrated but as good as. People were something, no one just was. It made sense, if the unorthodox immigration process was selective, which did follow, although she wasn’t sure what, or exactly who. (The gods, maybe, but they might just have been clever opportunists.)

“Needs must be.” Ivan shrugged. “It’s the nature of the place, I suppose. Adapt or die.” Again.

Again. Some vestige of tact prevented her from saying that aloud, but it crossed her mind, briefly, and she wondered how common that was here. Some afterlife. (Of course, there were worse, some of which she was familiar with as a sort of observer - it wasn’t top of her list of complaints.)

“Or end up in the Spatters.”

Ivan’s smile was a bit sharp. “Or that, yes. Even so.”

A sort of a verbal shrug, she said, “I like to be busy.” A tendency toward self-awareness - and self-analysis - wasn’t always terribly welcome, under particular circumstances. It was easier not to get caught up in frustration and discomfort if she stayed in motion, and Baedal wasn’t exactly limited in its opportunities to keep moving, thinking, doing. For as much as most of them seemed to dislike the place and want to leave (fairly, she felt, though she might’ve felt differently about it if she’d come here from the facility and not Sonja’s army), they did also seem to have done exactly what they’d been told to do in terms of their cohort.

“Well, you’re busy trying to get out, if nothing else, I take it.” He half laid down, propping himself up on his elbows so he could still see the screen. “It seems like you and your friend keep involved.”

“More than you,” she conceded - she kept abreast of people here, half because she was inclined to it by nosiness and half because they might be useful and it would be easier later if they liked her now.

He smiled, seemingly lazy. “I watch. I’m more used to it.”

“I told you you’re a cliché,” but she said it placidly, amiable, as she stretched out sideways on the blanket and rearranged her wrap before she tied herself in a knot. “Is it interesting? Watching here.” Here in general.

“Yes,” he said, simply. “There’s a high concentration of people who feel the need to be active.” Which generally led to eventful interactions between them, even when the city wasn’t under biological attack.

“Mmn. Better than telly, I suppose.” To a certain sort of person, anyway, and Ivan seemed to be that - like a cat who might tug on loose threads, given the opportunity.

“Generally, yes. It’s not so different from home, that way; just heightened.” He looked at her. “You seem pleased with things, though, whenever I see you.” An exaggeration, but a slight one.

“I was drunk last time you saw me.” Everything made her happy when she was drinking. (Well, that was another exaggeration, but for the most part she’d been bound and determined to enjoy herself.) At the moment she was a little worn from the disturbances in her sleep, though her usual stillness made it difficult to pick out and tell, and her illusion hid any ill-effects. “Mmn. Well, I guess.”

She walked more than she strictly needed to, just for the simple fact that she could, that she could come out of a building and go down a street and have the sky above her and people, noise, living. It didn’t always feel real, yet, and that had nothing to do with Baedal itself.

“I doubt you always are, you just always manage to seem so.” Pleased, not drunk. “Given that neither of your friends stabbed me, I took the party as something of a success.”

There were worse things to be than ‘evidently quietly smug at the rest of the world’, Ilde felt. It suited and she wasn’t inclined to dispute it. “I thought it went well.” What with no one being stabbed, yes, although Cindy had been unimpressed upon hearing about Ivan’s species.

“It was a useful and pleasant evening.” Which seemed to be the most one could ask.

“What a prissy thing to say.” True, though. “I gave Réjean a sticker.” Ivan may have seen it.

“Prissy,” he said, as if considering it. “I suppose. It could have been more of the latter if I hadn’t needed to responsibly send you home.”

It took her a moment to realize he meant ‘pleasant’ and not ‘stickers’, wrenching her train of thought back on course and rolling over onto her stomach to rest her chin in her hands. “Maybe.”

“Maybe.” He let his gaze remain on the screen. “Did you have other vampire questions?”

“Not at the moment. I think I can learn to distinguish, though.” Between the different types, she meant, which could again be a lucrative thing if she were ever inclined to be that mercenary. It had been an interesting point Narcissa made, even if she didn’t think she’d ever do it.

“Was that what you were doing?”

“I was asking you a question.” It did, admittedly, help to get more of an actual awareness of what one was and was not capable of, but it had been driven more by the vague concern that it might become an issue with him; he wouldn’t get the first warning that Isobel did. Her tone was bland, though, and she’d let him think it was the former and not the latter. That suited, too.

Ivan looked back at her, measuring. Finally, he said, “I like watching you, because I’m never sure if I’m guessing right.”

Ilde smiled, small and crooked. “You’ll have to keep watching to see.” It wasn’t as though she was going to tell him.

He grinned, slowly. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”