Nothing Ventured (Valence Family)

[Dervish]

Roman started to lean in.

I continued to lean back. My eyes bolted left and right, still engaged in their futile scan for functional escape routes out of my rapidly shrinking personal space. Had his arms closed in a little more? His rugged, wrought-iron arms that obviously worked out every day? No don't think that. Feet shuffled back, helping to press my considerable bulk against the counter. The damn thing staunchly refused to budge.

"Well then..." The werewolf spoke, not bothering to conceal the hungry wolf in his voice, growling all the way up from its refuge within his strong, toned chest. Don't think that either. "Let's... eat up."

And then he didn't back away. If anything, he seemed to be moving closer.

Something met something else, just below hip level. I fought down my better judgment and hazarded a quick peek. In the name of investigation. Old cop habit.

The front of his jeans was definitely not in contact with mine. I had to be imagining things.

My imagination sensed the trap and promptly barreled into it like a triceratops into a truffle patch. Again.

A shower. I needed a shower. A cold shower. Alone. In a freezing downpour. With all my clothes still on, except the ones likely to get wet and plaster themselves to my skin, which would force me to strip -

He was already moving away. I tried to keep my sigh of relief from getting too loud. Maybe I just needed a good solid brick to the head.

"You can get whatevah you want here."

"- huh? What?" I snapped back into reality, where an open drawer full of cutlery waited. "Oh. Yeah. Thanks." I let my hand rove over the collection of sharp metal, looking for a set that wouldn't look like toothpicks in my giant sasquatch hands.

"I mean them..."

"What?" I asked, only half paying attention.

"...too."

Fingers twitched, half an inch away from a steak knife. "What?"

The grin on his face was far too innocent to be - well, no; it wasn't innocent at all. Sharp teeth and hidden eyes beamed at me with all the satisfaction of another innuendo, carefully and stealthily shoved up my end.

And then the clouds parted and all the angelic host of the celestial realms pointed at me and cackled.

Yup. Life as usual.

The trip to the table was surprisingly uneventful. It helped that I was too mortified to stutter and he couldn't see my face doing its famous impression of a scruffy tomato.

[Roman Valence]

He was absolutely vicious, when he got his teeth into something. He probably didn't need the knife. It was just for show - the show being the way his shirtless form moved on display with every hard slice into the awaiting steak, splitting it open, letting mouth-watering juices flow. He was quick to shove each bite into his mouth that he could, as soon as he could, to let none of the flavor escape.

He was an animal, masquerading as a helpless blind sheep. And he was hungry. The steak satisfied his stomach, while other parts of him were left wanting, demanding.

The juice only teased him.

He tried to drain the taste out of his mouth, with an ice cold glass of water, arm upraised - round mound of flesh showing off unintentionally for once. The frigid liquid swept down his throat like a shocking blast to his senses. He slammed it down with a wolfish grin plastered all over his features.

"Ai don't hear you saying much. Tell me how ya laike it, mate."

Mouth open to breathe, hungrily, he gestured down at the plate to clarify.

"Your food. Or anything else, for that mattah," the devils on his shoulders couldn't help from adding in. They were too excited, for more things, now that a hunk of meat was safely digesting in his stomach. Like so many others, they just loved riding him and making him do things.

Not that he had a problem with that. He was an equal opportunity sort of guy.

He leaned back for a moment in his chair, fingers lacing together, and this time, he was doing it on purpose.

"You're supposed to be telling me more about yourself. But Ai can see you were plenty hungry and all, too, so Ai'll forgive ya for it."

The devil was in his smile, too.

"This taime."

It's not polite to laugh at your own jokes. But Roman? Roman could care less about polite.

[Dervish]

The meal was uneventful. I sat down, glanced at the mountain of food on my plate, then looked up at my host and waited for him to start tucking in. Then there was a horrible cacophony of animalistic devouring sounds, and the highly edible mountain on my plate was reduced to something a lot smaller.

Cooked food. Properly cooked food, for the first time in years. It was like walking in from a midwinter blizzard and sinking into a hot tub until nothing existed but the blistering heat. It was like crashing into bed after miles and miles of nothing but road. Like the relief I felt on the morning after a full moon, multiplied a billion times over, back when I still had a sort of life that was waiting to be ruined. Like a number of bodily functions I wasn't supposed to discuss in front of polite company and small children.

It sure as hell beat the stuffing out of raw grass and small charred animals.

My stomach gave a small, quiet lurch, warning me not to pamper it too fast. I made an effort to frantically shovel food down my throat at a slower pace, and scoured the room for something else to keep me occupied. I found it right across the table from me.

I found him.

The way he ate, the kid should have been a supermodel. Everything he did looked good. Something as mundane as "having lunch shirtless" turned into the centerfold for a magazine. I studied the scene in my mind; watched the muscles dance all along his arm as he sawed bits off the steak, and could easily picture it in a homebuyer's guide as an advertisement selling cutlery. Or plates, or dining tables, or giant confused grizzly-men who turned into endangered grass-eating reptiles when under severe emotional stress.

He spoke. "Ai don't hear you saying much. Tell me how ya laike it, mate."

I didn't realize, until one awkward time lapse later, that he was addressing the only other person in the room. "Urff," I said around a mouthful of food.

"Your food. Or anything else, for that mattah." He leaned back for a moment in his chair. His hands locked together behind his head, supporting it, showing off, the lazy grin making it clear as his body language that he was doing it on purpose, as usual. "You're supposed to be telling me more about yourself."

Uh oh. We were going to have to get acquainted. That thing humans liked to do to keep people from enjoying their food. Make small talk.

I swallowed. "Uh-"

"But Ai can see you were plenty hungry and all, too, so Ai'll forgive ya for it."

All the better to garnish you with, my dear, his smiled cackled silently.

"This taime."

"This - this time - " I stammered. Stopped. Tried again. "This time?"

I didn't usually get a "next time".

"That's... nice of you," I said at last, while poking more vegetables around my plate. "Lunch is great. You're a good cook. You're a damn fine cook, for -"

For someone who's blind, I caught myself rehearsing.

"...for a change. From what I usually get." I fumbled back to safety. "I usually try to make my own meals. Never figured it out. Leave me alone to boil water and I'd burn it."

"So... thanks. For lunch. And... and everything else." Except the constant teasing. On second thought, maybe the constant teasing as well. At least he looked good doing it.

"Uh... it's a nice day. But I'd rather look at the weather from indoors than be out in it. I've been spending a lot of time outdoors lately. I'd much rather... sleep indoors."

[Roman Valence]

"This - this time - " he stammered, as if the young man had just threatened him, instead of the light hearted joke he had meant it as. "This time?"

The mirthful werewolf took a slight backpedal, and toned down the humor.

"Just a tease," he clarified, and his cheek squeezed up in what was supposed to be a friendly wink. Then he shrugged offhandedly, "Ai've a tendency to forgive. Cause you've gotta forgive, if you wanna be forgiven, raight? No worries there, mate."

"That's... nice of you," the man finally got around to responding, radiating a sense of awkwardness that Roman couldn't help but feel responsible. He noticed then, that he seemed to be having trouble with some of those veggies. That was normal for Roman, but his guest was supposed to be at least half herbivore.

It was Roman's turn to frown in silent questioning.

"There a problem with the food, mate?" he asked sincerely.

"Lunch is great," his guest answered, assuaging that concern. "You're a good cook. You're a damn fine cook, for -"

Roman cocked his head to one side in a classic dog-like way.

"...for a change. From what I usually get," Dervish finished.

His quickly growing smile presumed he meant something else.

"I usually try to make my own meals. Never figured it out. Leave me alone to boil water and I'd burn it."

"Guess Ai can't leave you alone then," he inserted under his breath, to his imagination's prompt envisioning of 'Not Leaving Him Alone.'

"So... thanks. For lunch. And... and everything else. Uh... it's a nice day. But I'd rather look at the weather from indoors than be out in it. I've been spending a lot of time outdoors lately. I'd much rather... sleep indoors."

Roman was back to smiling again, as he listened to Dervish rambling on about a different topic.

"Yeah, Ai know what you mean, mate. Getting bit by a bug? Not the best wake-up call," the were said, reminiscing about his time in the woods. He murmured a laugh. "Much rathah be bitten by something else."

The great, wide, primal places of Damian's Isle … he remembered running them. He remembered flying them. He remembered his friends, who made the plunge with him, and the crazy times they had. Lycanthropic revels beat alcoholic gatherings any day of the week, and he had the memories to prove it, but communion with nature had its own rewards.

"But the naight … you remembah the naight on Damian's, raight?" the werewolf said hopefully. "Ai still do. The stars were so braight. And there were so many… Did you evah just … lay on your back, and stare up at 'em?"

[Dervish]

I sawed off another chunk of steak and shoved it into my mouth before it could come up with another bright idea. I braced myself for the latest bright grin and the accompanying innuendo. Grin. Innuendo. The thing he kept doing to combine the two. Grinnuendo?

"Yeah, Ai know what you mean, mate. Getting bit by a bug? Not the best wake-up call."

An odd blip of disappointment met the arrival of one, but not the other.

"Much rathah be bitten by something else."

An odd spark of reassurance followed as he completed the train of thought. Remembering to chew, I glanced back down at the plate, fighting down the queasy feeling which I realized was my face flailing as dormant muscles tried to smile and better-used instincts fought them down.

"But the naight … you remembah the naight on Damian's, raight?" Roman said.

The threat of a smile realized it belonged on someone else's face and hurried to exit, not even bothering to pack its emotional baggage on the way out.

Yes, I remembered the nights in self-imposed solitary confinement on Jail Island for Recalcitrant Animals. About a tenth of them were spent struggling to hold back a very bad sneeze.

"Ai still do. The stars were so braight. And there were so many… Did you evah just … lay on your back, and stare up at 'em?"

I'd spent so much time staring up at the moon, feeling the metaphysical sneeze build inside me as it got rounder and fuller and harder to ignore. I couldn't have missed the stars if I tried.

They made me feel... small.

Tiny.

Existential.

Someone else had enjoyed looking at the stars, until I killed him.

I'd killed lots of people, come to think of it. And brutally maimed plenty more. Each time, I'd made the streets one person emptier, usually for the better. I'd improved the universe, made it one person less shitty. Like one bucket out of an ocean of piss.

It hadn't been fun, noticing the stars.

I swallowed carefully, stalling for time, searching for the right words to avoid offending a friendly blind man.

...who'd enjoyed looking at the stars.

I ran some simple arithmetic in my head, and concluded I was a huge asshole.

Out loud, I gave a helpless shrug and made an indistinct rumbling noise. I shifted on the spot. My chair scraped along the marble floor.

"I... can't say I really noticed," I lied, politely. "Didn't spend much time... enjoying the scenery. Just wanted to get out of there."

I fidgeted with the last of the salad, then busied myself adding more to the plate, leaving the steak for him. "It was different, you... know. Going on my own."

[Roman Valence]

His thoroughly well-painted mental bubble popped as readily as if Dervish's words were a needle point and a vaccuum to clean up the mess. It wasn't that he'd said anything wrong - an ambivalence to the stars is hardly a crime - but the simple fact it was a pleasant memory they didn't share … was disappointing.

"Oh," he said with a small measure of defeat. "Ai just figured, ya know … well, Ai guess it doesn't mattah too much, does it?"

He leaned back and scratched his neck with one hand, and his chest shook with a small laugh as he reached back inside himself for the mirth he knew was there, waiting to be had and shared. Defeats like that were only temporary setbacks after all - and Roman, for his part, knew of a way to brush them off.

He called it, 'determination.'

"Stars or no stars, alone or no, we're not there anymore. We're here. And here's different. Here's bettah, what without the wardens over your shouldah or the packs trying to get ya to join up. That's something to be happy about, isn't it? Having your freedom?"

"And Ai don't know about you, but Ai'm a bettah person having been there, then if Ai grew up out here. Lotsa people Ai've met have no clue how good they have it, and…" Roman gave a soft smile, tipping his head to the right. "Ai know how good Ai have it. We all do, mai family and Ai. That's why we try to help people, in situations like yours."

The young man reached for his knife again, to start cutting up more of his steak. He tried to give his sincerest expression, as he fiddled with the meat a moment more. Running juices begged for him to be quick about eating them, but he held back. Sour emotions could sometimes spoil a good flavor, and Roman was getting the distinct impression there was a whole host of bitter things on his guest's tongue.

"You can talk to me, you know. About the bad stuff. Ai'm here. Ai'll listen," he stated, holding back a small joke about blind people and super human hearing. "Sometimes it's bettah to get it off your chest, if you have someone to talk to about it, and … you know Ai'll understand. Not saying you have to, but … Ai'm not gonna judge."

"Or we could go back to talking about how good it'd be to have a wolf above your head, if that'd be bettah for you."

Roman was incredibly understanding like that.

[Dervish]

"Oh," he said. "Ai just figured, ya know … well, Ai guess it doesn't mattah too much, does it?"

"Sorry," I mumbled. From the cover of my lunch, I stole a peek at Roman's expression and immediately thought of a dog with its ears and tail drooping.

Surridge, you prick. You heartless, brainless prick.

I began chewing faster as I searched my vocabulary for the right words to make a less awkward apology, but he was already a few steps ahead of me. The defeat was already fading out of his expression, erased by that ever-present optimism he so readily handed out.

"Stars or no stars, alone or no, we're not there anymore. We're here. And here's different. Here's bettah, what without the wardens over your shouldah or the packs trying to get ya to join up. That's something to be happy about, isn't it? Having your freedom?"

I didn't think my relative freedom, back here in a country that welcomed me with reluctant arms and a cold shoulder, had been worthy of a celebration. Not until lately. But now that he mentioned it...

I nodded along silently, then felt stupid. "Yeah," I said.

"And Ai don't know about you, but Ai'm a bettah person having been there, then if Ai grew up out here. Lotsa people Ai've met have no clue how good they have it, and…" And the smile was there again, as if it had never left. "Ai know how good Ai have it. We all do, mai family and Ai. That's why we try to help people, in situations like yours."

"Uh huh." I lifted my fork absently, brought it to my mouth and realized I hadn't speared more food onto it. "That's... I guess... should be happy about..."

"You can talk to me, you know. About the bad stuff. Ai'm here. Ai'll listen." And in that offer was more than anyone had done for me since I'd set my feet back on good old terra Alexandria. Except for that priest with the strange church. Which I'd rather not think about after I'd fouled that friendly greeting up.

"Sometimes it's bettah to get it off your chest, if you have someone to talk to about it, and … you know Ai'll understand. Not saying you have to, but … Ai'm not gonna judge."

I let the breath I'd been holding again ease out through my nose, and said nothing.

Sharp teeth gleamed. Hidden eyes twinkled. "Or we could go back to talking about how good it'd be to have a wolf above your head, if that'd be bettah for you."

My eyes wrinkled at the edges. My chest made an awful heaving, rattling noise. It sounded almost like a chuckle.

"You're a bit like someone I knew." I tried to hide the smile, then realized it wouldn't matter, then felt guilty for a moment, then stopped caring. "He thought I was worth the trouble, too. Even when most people didn't." I set my fork and knife down and leaned forward, resting my arms on the sturdy table. "I'm starting to think he was right."

"Pleased to meet you."

[Roman Valence]

The young man grinned amiably - pleased that his joke had worked, alleviating some of the attention, and most especially pleased to hear the way Dervish replied. Determination saw him through again. Setbacks had been overcome, if only by a smidge. He could work on it. The most important work always progressed like that.

"Very pleased to meet you, too, mate…"

Satisfied enough of the negativity had been removed, the young werewolf went back to eating, with abandon. The pair entertained more idle chatter, the very carnivorous one of them making a point of at least sawing the meat into strips before chomping down.

He was out of meat almost too soon. His stomach's immediate demands had been assuaged, but in the back of his mind, he was already contemplating how many cows he'd need to kill for the rest of the day. Another drag at the air through his nose reminded him that he wasn't necessarily completely out of meat…

But for the moment, he just needed to lean back, and stretch… Coiled arms lengthening to their utmost, and taking his torso along for the ride, reaching for some bar always just out of reach of his fingertips.

"Mmm." His left hand went back behind his head, to rub away any latent stiffness in his neck. When its work of a few seconds ended, the other hand reached down, to rub along his sufficiently-filled stomach. "Love a good meal, aftah some hard work…"

There was no more stomach rumbling in the silence. That was always a good sign on its own.

"Ai don't hear chewing. Or scraping," Roman stated his auditory observations. "Does that mean you're done, too, mate?"

The young man slowly got up from his seat, and circled around the table with his plate, circling like the very wolf he was. Hopes to avoid giving the appearance of stalking were pointless - stalking was exactly how it came out, despite any other intentions.

He moved right up next to his guest with no qualms as to personal space. Then setting down his own dirtied dish, his left hand trailed along the table, closer to Dervish's used plate.

"Don't worry. Ah can deal with," his right hand grabbed at Dervish's shoulder instead of completing the sentence, to get a better feel for his space. The brick wall felt as hard as ever under gripping fingers.

"Your plate," he finished innocently, free hand sliding around until it found the empty dish. Then Roman picked it up, along with his own, and prepared to head back toward the kitchen.

He wondered how long he'd been leaning over his guest.

… Completely unintentionally.

[Dervish]

The rest of the meal passed without more hiccups. He asked questions. I answered. He stuck to the easy subjects. I didn't have a reason to dodge. He gleaned more from twenty minutes of idle talk than the most invasive interview had dug out of me.

And then Roman stretched out with a satisfied groan, and I glanced down at a plate that was finally empty, and a stomach that had finally gone quiet after years and a week of living rough.

"Ai don't hear chewing. Or scraping," Roman said. "Does that mean you're done, too, mate?"

"Huh?" He was on the move again, by all appearances prowling for a second course. "Uh - I -" I piled cutlery and plates together and tried to stand. "It's no big deal, I can help clean up -"

He hovered like a friendly carnivorous shadow and reached out. "Don't worry. Ai can deal with -" His hand squeezed my shoulder again, triggering another cascade of chemicals up to my brain. I stiffened, eyes going to the hand.

I counted the slow minutes in my head as Roman's hand stayed right where it was. "Deal... with...?"

"Your plate."

"Oh." I sat unmoving while the carnivore gathered the dishes and turned to go. "I... well, thanks."

I followed him to the kitchen, pulled along by some invisible leash. "I can still help. If you need anything. Just, uh... let me know."