A Trivial Guest

He kept his arms crossed, but let his expression soften a little as he watched Owen squirm.

"Basically," he said, his tone casual. "there are two roads we can go down at this particular moment."
He placed his hands on the desk. "The first option is my personal favorite - we talk like gentlemen, setting our differences aside and we try to reach a consensus. No threats, no making fun of, we keep the insults under our respective breaths."
He turned his head slightly to glance at a cupboard behind his guest's back.
"I could even organize some tea, if you're so inclined."

Richard held up the golf ball to examine it without much interest. "Or you can drag yourself out of here, bearing your grudge - the source of which I am still not fully aware of - and, well..."
He placed the ball on the desk right in front of him, then gave Owen a serious look.
"In result, miss out on an invaluable opportunity that I'm still offering to you. A chance to make an ally."
He paused, then shrugged. "I leave the choice to you."

Owen listened to both of the offers with an expression of vague, reluctant interest on his face. It was tempting, and admittedly, Owen hadn't really wanted to add to his growing list of enemies. But it wasn't like it was his fault though.... People just didn't get along with him.

He raised a hand in some sort of lazy signal of defeat. "Fine then." He sighed. "I'll.. go with the first one." The idea of talking like gentlemen hadn't really appealed to him, yet Owen had the vague notion that Richard wasn't about to reinforce that condition. "But leave out the tea, that stuff reeks."

He moved himself into a comfier-but-not-really-that-much-comfier position on the chair, eyes dully following the golf ball. "How can I trust you anyway." His eyes squinted curiously. "You must be getting some kicks outa this. Having kids come in here moanin' 'bout their problems. Must be kinda funny huh?" An unpleasant smirk crept onto his face. "But I'm not gonna do that... You don't exactly look like..." He seemed to hesitate, as if he were actually searching for a nicer way of phrasing something. "the kinda guy I'd spew everything to."

When Owen made his decision, he smiled approvingly. "Splendid." he said. "Would you prefer some soda instead?"
Now, he was determined to not let any of the boy's coarse remarks get to him. It was probably not all his fault - Richard guessed Owen's upbringing was far from proper. The vampire had gotten along with even more uncivilized people in the past, hadn't he? There were some tricks to it, but it was doable.

Relaxing, he leaned back in his seat. Complete honesty would probably be the best course here. Owen wouldn't stand for subtleties and dancing around the truth.
"Ah, so you don't believe in altruism? Tsk, tsk, tsk." He let out a short laugh. "Very well. Neither do I. No, of course you're right - I have my own reasons. You see..."
He reached for the golf ball to toy with it again. "When you have been living for a while, as have I, things tend to get... old. You get better at everything you try, simply because you have a lot of time to practice."
Richard twirled the ball in his fingers, then placed it on the tip of his index finger. With his thumb he sent it spinning and balanced it for a few seconds.
"And so, whenever I see something that could prove to be a challenge," he said, catching the ball in his palm again. "I seize the opportunity." He narrowed his eyes. "But please, don't think that this means your troubles are a game to me. I approach my challenges with deadly seriousness."
The vampire took a deep breath, then chuckled. "Does that answer your question? Yes, I do get some kicks outa this." He paused, then tilted his head to look at Owen with a new spark of interest in his eyes. "Pray tell, though, what is it exactly that made you consider me untrustworthy?"

"Soda?" he echoed, peering a few times over the desk just in case he'd missed it the first twenty times he'd looked. "You have some?" And that, in his language, was translate as a blatant 'yes, I bloody would prefer soda'.

Altruism? Owen wasn't the kind of person who knew words like that from the top of his head, so he appropiately stared rather cluelessly. The rest of his little speech made more sense though, in some weird way. Even if he hadn't fully understood, he at least pretended to, with a hesitant nod.

His question made him frown uncertainly though. "Uhm, well..." He looked aside. Did he really want to explain? After all, he felt as if he'd merely be going in circles with his accusations. "It... Never mind... Doesn't really matter." Well, it probably did to Richard. Or did it?

His fingers twiddled a moment more. "Just that... You kinda remind me of some guy off a...old scary film or something." Reminded, he looked up briefly, taking note of Richard's fangs... Could he...? "And 'cause you're a vampire... Right?" Well, he had the fangs, the creepiness, and the staying awake at night thing going on. In his opinion, it was an educated guess.

"But of course." he said. "How else would I drink my-"
As soon as he said that, his eyes were drawn to the glass of scotch, abandoned on the side of the desk. At some point, he must have put it there, completely unaware, and pushed it out of his thoughts.

Well, naturally. A living human was infinitely more interesting than some fermented barley. Even if it was a very fine vintage, one he'd never dare mix with coke.

Richard reached for the glass and took a sip before rising from his chair. Behind his back, right by the window, stood a small pre-electric fridge. That is to say, a well-ventilated wooden cupboard. Sighing, the vampire opened its door and took out a bottle of soda for Owen. It was lukewarm, slightly chilly if you really wanted to flatter it.
"There you go." he said as put the bottle on the table and pushed it for it to roll to Owen's side. "I am ashamed to admit its temperature is less than satisfying, but you'll have to forgive me." He shrugged lightly as he occupied his seat again. "No way to keep it cool, you see."

Listening attentively, he swirled the scotch in its glass. At the boy's explanation, he raised his hand to run it back through his hair. Maybe slicked back wasn't the best choice, but really, it's not like people pointed at him in the streets gasping in terror. Besides, your options are severely limited when you're stuck with the same haircut for all eternity.
"Yes, you're absolutely correct. But you needn't be concerned about that." he said. Should he say it, or shouldn't he...? Owen probably didn't think of it in those terms, but he should be aware... and even though Richard said 'no making fun of', some ever-so-light teasing, just to see how he reacts, doesn't fall under the definition of 'making fun of'... right? All for research purposes, of course...
"Just because you're directly below me on the food chain doesn't mean you cannot trust me." he said, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "You yourself are above cows, yet you aren't a threat to every single one..."
Even if you tried, he added in his head. The image of Owen wildly chasing horrified, whinging cattle around a pasture did not help in his struggle to keep a straight face.

Owen eyed the cola with slight disbelief when Richard took it out. Could it be...? The academy was lacking in fizzy drinks (for reasons that Owen could simply not comprehend), so seeing one was almost a somewhat legendary sight. As soon as it was within arm's reach, he snatched it up.

Admiring it briefly like a long lost love, he twisted the top, listening intently for that satisfying 'pssh' of fizz. Well, a slightly flat one anyway. Whatever, that didn't matter. He took a great gratuitous swig of the drink, gasping in satisfaction. He wanted to believe it was the best drink he'd ever had ever, but... there was something off about it. Richard was right, it wasn't as cold as it should be. The disappointment on his face lasted a second before he took another drink. Cola was cola.

He listened with a dull stare, glad that one of his assumptions was actually true for a change. Well, it wasn't as if it was a difficult guess anyway. However, as he continued, he slowly lowered the bottle form his face, squinting as if he were trying to decipher his words, or more like, whether Richard had just subtly ripped him or not.

His judging, peering look lasted a few seconds more than it should've before he responded with a wayward shrug. "Well, cows don't even care, I mean, all they talk about is grass..." he mumbled, only half intending it as a retort.

"But that's different... I mean, I don't actually.. hunt cows. Other people do that." His mouth twisted into a wry frown, noticing Richard's smirk. "And I don't know anywhere that sells human meat. You've prolly killed some people haven't you?" Like in horror movies, he added in his head. He couldn't help but picture Richard stalking around in the night with a demonic cape, luring innocent females to their doom... He did not want his mind to wander there.

Well, Owen wasn't lying, at least when he said he did like some things. Richard was satisfied he could provide him with one of them. And not just because it could make him look better in the boy's eyes.
"If you ever get a craving for some more" he said, giving him an unashamedly devious glance. "feel free to pop around. I can spare you a bottle from time to time."
One, two, three, all together now - hooray for bribery.

First Owen mentioned cows talking, then people hunting them... at that, his sanity had to be questioned and Richard raised both eyebrows a bit. Maybe the poor kid had never even seen a cow...? He shook his head so slightly, the movement was barely visible.
"Some." he shrugged, giving Owen an honest look. "I'm not going to lie to you. But like I said, you needn't worry. I never hunt so close to my current lodgings. Besides that, I told the Headmistress that students were completely out of the question." He cracked his knuckles and they made the exact sound they always did, all throughout the hundreds of years of his unlife. "And I'm a man of my word."
Why break promises when there's always a loophole waiting in hiding for a mind agile enough to see through its camouflage?

Owen took another swig of the drink, probably not savouring it as much as he ought to, considering its rarity. But it tasted damn good compared to the stale, tasteless water he often had, and really, exquisite wines really weren't his preference. Richard's offer succeeded on brightening his expression - a tiny improvement, but noticeable nonetheless. A smile that looked more eager than a snide smirk.

But like any sign of happiness from Owen, it wasn't sure to last long. And again, his expression drooped back into a standard dull, blank stare that would make one wonder if he was anything more than emotionless robot.

"I didn't say you were gonna hunt me or something," he insisted, refusing to admit that he had considered that thought. "I was just saying... you're a murderer. In a school." He twiddled the lid of the bottle in his clawed hand. "There's gotta be somethin' wrong with that."

Hmm... So Owen didn't react with indignation to being bought. Richard filed that precious information away while trying to recall if he had mentioned what else did he like... Maybe during the party...? He made a mental note to wring his brains out later and remember it, but for now, his attention was on the boy.

While Owen spoke, he tapped the tips of his fingers together, than raised an eyebrow in slight disbelief. He could easily name at least one quite remorseless murderer amongst the staff - and he was certain that taking into account the wide assortment of species and backgrounds present at the Academy, one or two more could be found.

Surely Owen couldn't be unaware of that?

He wasn't sure what to tell him. He couldn't just go and share those thoughts with Owen, there was no need for him to feel even more insecure than he was already. Then there was this good old excuse, well embedded in pop culture, used by countless vampires - "I don't kill innocents", or "I only kill those who've killed themselves" - but aside from it being a dirty lie, something told Richard that Owen wouldn't buy it. Not when he already saw him as some sort of a horror movie character.
All in all, he ended up looking at Owen thoughtfully in silence, giving the impression that he agreed to a certain degree. He reached for the glass absent-mindedly, and sipped some of the watered-down scotch, all the ice in it melted down by then. He winced in repulsion, then cleared his throat.
"Mhm. You have a point." he said slowly. "But this is not a normal school."
When he said those words, his eyes wandered to the inhuman side of Owen's face.

Watching Richard, Owen didn't know whether to take his brief silence as a good sign or not. It was tricky to tell these things, considering he wasn't really an expert psychologist, unlike what Richard appeared to be. In fact, touching upon this very thought was unnerving in itself. Although he wouldn't show it on the outside, Richard could be stripping him apart layer by layer, peering nosily into all of his insecurities. And such, Owen made a concious effort to sit a little straighter in his chair - because that would make the whole difference.

Though he did look uncomfortable as Richard's eyes reached the side of his face that he loathed so much. And although he didn't want to admit it, he did have a point.

"Well, yeah," he began, as if the matter was entirely obvious. "But... uhm..." He trailed off, the thought starting to worry him. It opened the idea that this school could be swarming with shady characters with grisly pasts. Sure, Owen's own childhood wasn't completely flowery, but this place could've been festering with outright criminals. His safety was starting to feel a little compromised.

"But you're meant to be like... someone I can trust... How can I do that if you like, run around..." He stared, before shrugging, taking a wild guess," ...biting people to death or something." A small chuckle escaped - why was he amused by this idea? He had no idea.

What was Owen trying to achieve by fixing his posture, he didn't know. Did Richard alarm him in some way...? Was he thinking about the implications of a murderer being in the school? Or was he all of a sudden trying to appear less like a slacker for some reason? He didn't know the boy enough to be certain.

He snickered, more as an automatic reaction to Owen's chuckle than of genuine amusement.
"I don't do that, though... If I did, I'd be dead - dead dead - faster than you can say 'oh hey, is that Buffy-'" He put his hands to his chest then made a rapid outwardly motion, spreading his fingers. "Pow...!"
Richard shrugged, grinned wryly, leaned forwards and rested his elbows on the desk.
"Why shouldn't you trust me, though? Like I said, the fact that I feed on your kind does not necessarily mean I am a danger to you. I'm not a B movie villain, running around and kicking puppies for giggles. I have no business in being your enemy, quite the opposite, in fact."
He grabbed the golf ball again, sent it rolling on the desk like a spinning top and watched it pirouette across the polished surface.
"But, I suppose in the end you'll still have to go out on a limb to trust me." He shot Owen a straightforward look. "At least I'm not trying to lie to you, right?"

Owen gave a sort of guilty glance to the floor - okay, he had to admit it, Richard did have a good point, and Owen didn't really have any good grounds for mistrusting him besides 'stranger danger' and 'guy who looks like he's from a horror movie'. And he admitted that his little 'dying' act was maybe a fraction amusing.

"I guess not..." His feet shuffled together.

He remained silent for a moment, unsure what to say... before giving Richard a straight glance. "You know... I'm just sorta wondering..." he trailed off, eyes glancing off nervously before returning to the vampire. "M'not religious or nothing but... What would you do if... you thought there was some... God or something, up there y'know... that was controlling your life and... making it suck." He honestly wanted to know.

He nodded, then waited patiently for Owen to speak again, watching him. The sudden change of subject surprised him a bit, of course, but he figured it is better to take things as they come. The question must have been bothering the boy for a while for him to spring it like that.
Honestly, Richard could go on for hours about the subject. When he was born, people were still tortured and executed for their religion, and he was there to witness the slow process of such practices vanishing and the rise of rationalism and atheism. But this was not the time or place for a lecture like that. Most of it would have been lost on Owen anyway. It was not what he was seeking.

He folded his arms and rocked back slightly in his chair, thinking, never looking away from the boy.
"Let's say that God, indeed, exists, and cares about my mere existence enough to go out of his way to make my life difficult. What reason could he have to do it? I see two possible explanations." He raised a hand and gestured towards the chandelier... for some reason. "The first one is that he is a malicious God. He is out to harm me, because it pleases him to see me suffer." He shrugged lightly. "The second is that he considers it a test of character, a way of creating a tougher and better person out of me by putting me through rough times. Polishing me, if you will."
He paused for a second, traces of amusement playing on his face. "In both cases, there is only one logical course of action. And that is... telling God to shove it."

Richard smiled. "Ignore it. Fight him. Who the hell does he think he is, playing games with me like that? I would show him I don't need his permission to be happy." He tapped his fingers on the desk. "That's what I would do, if I believed that about my life."
Did Owen really think that about himself? A divine intervention was a pretty good excuse to give up the fight. Maybe it wasn't just an excuse, though. Seeking a justification for one's anguish was a very human thing.
"Why do you ask?"

It was a risk asking the question, and Owen didn't really know what to expect. The question had plagued him, and he at least wanted to see if he could trust Richard enough to answer. But he didn't want to share his problems. That wasn't what he'd come for... besides, it was far too embarrassing to admit such things.

He did listen though, perhaps more carefully than he had with the rest of their encounter. The way Owen saw it, it felt a lot more like the first description of God. A test of character? Haha, no. It was downright barbaric.

"No reason," he curtly responded with a shrug. "Just... thought I'd ask." A likely unconvincing lie, but it was either that or spill out all his sorrowful tales of past. The former was preferable.

"Fighting'swell and all... but whad'you do when... you know you can't win?" He blinked.

He let out a low hum of understanding. He wasn't going to try and coax Owen into spilling his heart out. It was more of a girl thing, really... and there was absolutely nothing wrong with that. If Owen was more comfortable talking about things in a roundabout way, then Richard was more than glad to comply.

He paused, considering his answer. A state of complete inability to win wasn't something he was terribly familiar with - he never accepted defeat. Retreating to regroup your forces and try again later was different.
"Hm. If you can't beat something by force or by cunning, beat it through sheer perseverance. He conquers who endures, as they say."
He wasn't sure if that would help Owen at all. But well, he asked what Richard would do. He wasn't familiar enough with the whole of Owen's problems to tailor his answer to suit the boy's needs.

Owen was relieved that he didn't seem to question more on Owen's personal problems... either because he somehow already knew (he wouldn't put it past him, given that he already displayed a sufficient amount of creepiness) or that maybe he wasn't actually all that bad of a guy.

His thumbs twiddled somewhat anxiously at his words though. Endure it? Did that mean he just had to let it all happen to him without being able to do anything about it? It wasn't the answer he wanted.

His sigh was disheartened. "Okay." He blinked at the ground. "Thanks." For nuthin', he mouthed under his breath. Then he paused. Well, at least Richard was trying to help, which was more than he could say for the rest of the people he met.

Hesitation. "...Sorry." The apology came out of nowhere, and Owen looked off tot he side, unwilling to elaborate.

Ah. Seems like he had given the incorrect answer. Shame. He couldn't have expected Richard to immediately come up with a way to win against a malevolent god, though. The only other way of approaching problems, other than force, cunning or perseverance, was simply giving up and giving in. It seemed to be Owen's preferred course of action...

He kept that to himself, though, deciding that trying to go back on what he said and trying to explain it would feel forced and awkward.

Speaking of awkward...

Richard blinked, scanning Owen for any signs that could show that the apology was a joke or snark of some sort. No... it seemed genuine. That certainly gained the boy some points in his eyes, as abrupt and strange as it was. His behavior earlier was very rude, if somewhat justified.
And, well... at least he wasn't crying...
"It is alright." he said quietly. He didn't feel that any other words were necessary, or, indeed, welcome.

He tapped his fingers on the desk in thought. Maybe this was a good moment to ask - any question would be welcome to avoid the uncomfortable silence that would surely befall them if he didn't say anything really quickly.
"Would you... please tell me about your side to your conflict with Leon?"

It wasn't just Richard who sensed the impending awkwardness. Owen felt it too; the moment the apology departed lips, he felt immediately uncomfortable. All the while, his conscience begged him why he'd suddenly come out with it without warning. He guessed that he sort of felt like he owed it to him.. for the cola, if nothing else.

But at least the counsellor deemed it alright, whatever 'it' was. He twiddled his thumbs as some means of occupying his attention, because really, he didn't know how to continue. Richard did save them from the silence... but not in the way he expected.

Owen raised his head in alarm upon hearing his name. That name he loathed so much. The name that made his expression flare with unmistakable agitation, no matter how much he tried to hide it. He... he really didn't want to tell Richard. He reminded himself that he wasn't here to whine about his problems, and it'd only make him look weak. Sissy. It'd only prove him right.

But still, given the impacted subject, he couldn't just shrug it off. He couldn't just yell that it was none of his business. Truthfully, although Owen didn't want to admit it, he'd felt so alone in his little war. What would he give to be able to just talk to somebody...?

His lip curled wryly, before indecisively shrugging. "He's a... jerk." Well, that sounded lame. He hesitated further. "He just likes to.. piss me off... For no reason. I hate 'im." He made it sound so petty... but it went deeper. So many layers deeper.

Richard was treading on thin ice now, and he was very well aware of it. This matter seemed to be an open, festering wound, and one less than perfectly delicate touch would make Owen clam right up. It would ruin everything they had achieved so far.

But... He could see that Owen wanted to talk about it, but didn't know how, or deemed it inappropriate for some reason. Maybe he thought it would make him seem less tough (as if he had that image to begin with), maybe he had trouble putting it into words, or maybe he didn't trust Richard enough. Yet. Or maybe it was all of the above.

Either way, he had to word everything with utmost care. He kept a neutral, maybe somewhat sympathetic expression as he intertwined his fingers.
"Why do you suppose he does that... other than just him being a jerk?" He tilted his head slightly, trying to appear inquisitive, rather than like he was implying that he partly blamed Owen for this. He didn't, at least not yet; not until he knew more. "Is it some form of revenge? Or is he just sadistic?"

To say he was desperately uncomfortable talking about Leon was a wild under-exaggeration. He did not want to be thinking about him, heck, he was beginning to suspect that he was waiting around the corner, ready to butt in and start mocking him why he was whining about his issues to some other man like some sort of pathetic---

He blinked, directing his attention to his latter question. He did wonder just how in-depth Richard planned on going with it... it was a thought that worried him. He shrugged.

"I dunno. I just... sit there, mindin' my own business an' he walks up and..." He made an off-handed gesture with his hand, unwilling to elaborate exactly what he did. "Haven't even done nothin' to him..." Well, it wouldn't be the complete truth - Owen had indeed sought to make a comeback on him. But he only did it because of Leon. He was still innocent.

Richard nodded slowly, considering the next step. While the progress made from Owen's outright hostility they started with was tremendous, it was the first time that they talked. He needed to know more, yes, but asking questions too in-depth could seem... prying. Unsolicited. He reached for the golf ball, which has since rolled off to rest against the metal base of his desk lamp. Toying with the small object made him feel more casual, like they were just having a conversation, and less like he was staring at the kid trying to read into his soul. Hopefully it would also aid in making him seem like he wasn't doing just that.

Which, of course, he was.

"Well, there must be a reason he is doing it." he said, flicking the ball across the desk to catch it with his other hand. "If, as you're saying, you haven't done anything to him, we can cross revenge off the list." He glanced at Owen curiously. "That doesn't leave us with many options, does it? What do you think? You know him better than I do..."

Owen stared. A reason? He hadn't really considered any reasons besides being a cruel, shallow bully, and perhaps something to do with Jami. Well, he certainly hadn't displayed himself to be anything else. He recalled their very first meeting - Leon had yelled in his face first. Owen hadn't even known the guy. He had no reason at all.

He shrugged. "I dunno. He just has some sorta thing against me. Me and Jami." His brows furrowed at a sudden thought. What was going on between them? One moment they were fighting, the next, they were.. sort of getting along? Owen didn't understand, and he wouldn't pretend that he understood either.

"Well, he did get kinda mad at me once..." He looked off. "'Bout some gold. 'Cuz..." He glanced around - he swore Leon was there somewhere, listening - before lowering his voice discreetly to Richard. "...'Cuz gold's his weakness."

So, Owen thought that Leon and Jami were enemies as well? As far as Richard could tell, that wasn't true. Leon had helped her contain Petunia at the party. If they weren't on friendly terms, he had many opportunities to turn that against her.
Perhaps their little... alliance was kept a secret from Owen. He wouldn't be surprised - if Jami wanted to be friends with both of them, it would be quite the juggle.
Those musings were rather casual and light, he wasn't sure if all of his guesses were correct. There was entirely not enough information yet to base a sound judgment on. All that time he had been playing with the ball. At the last sentence, though, he stopped for a second to look at Owen attentively.
"His weakness?" he said, then resumed rolling the ball from one hand to another. "In what way?"
Well, that had just gotten a bit more interesting.

The moment Richard paused in his rolling of the ball, Owen knew that he had at least caught his interest. Now all he had to do was explain, which in his opinion, was more difficult than it sounded. He had no problem spewing out the words, but the paranoia of Leon was more powerful than ever. What would he do to him if he ever figured that he'd been taddling his weakness? Owen was reluctant to think about it.

With his voice still lowered. Owen continued. "It... think of, like.. water against witches." A dumb example, he knew. "It kinda... burns him. Melted his fingers right off." Okay, so it was a slight exaggeration, but he hadn't been able to assess the exact damage inflicted. He looked around edgily, constantly checking the door. "Don't tell 'im I said that,"

Noting the student's wariness, he held the ball in his palm and leaned confidentially towards Owen as he spoke. The boy considered it serious, and for good reason, too - Richard himself wouldn't be happy if people went and blabbed on about his weaknesses. If he didn't overlook anything, though, for now the only person who had any sort of a clue was Dean Kale.
Somehow, he was sure she would keep it to herself. She was too smart to share an advantage like that with just anybody.

He smirked wryly. "Like... garlic against vampires?" Straightening out in his chair, he looked to Owen thoughtfully. "Of course not. Everything you say is for my ears only. And there's nobody behind that door, remember how I could tell you were there? Relax." he said, smiling lightly.
Richard rested the top of his index finger on the golf ball and spun it a little, watching the chubby boy.
"Well... Then it is not completely without reason that he is picking on you. I don't think it matters who started it." he said, trying to not sound accusatory, but rather like he was trying to understand. "Wouldn't you... like to end this feud?"