Voluntary Visitation

He didn't approve of the hair. Why was it so floofy?

The man hummed horribly out-of-tune as he walked through the midnight corridors, methodologically combing the vibrant hairs with his fingers. It simply didn't want to stay down; the mass would simply poof back up as soon as he smoothed it out. Not that the hair was the worst thing imaginable, but, it was just so . . . frustrating.

'Man'. He didn't like that word. Not at all.

The familiar face, per-say, continued to pace through the hallways, mulling over in his newly-constrained mind his to-do list. Enroll, yes-- not immediately, though. That could be saved for later. For now, there were proper introductions to be done.

He didn't bother to knock; the fallen deity rather detested following through with such courtesy. Instead, he swung the councilor's door open with a bang, the grin he put on broad and shining.

"Did you like my little stunt at the Highland Games?" Disaster asked, prancing into the room without so much as an invitation. He imagined himself quite a sight: his usual attire of black leather was soot-ladened and charred, random holes here and there revealing themselves as he continued to walk up to the vampire. The fallen deity could have changed into something more 'proper,' but he figured that Richard would appreciate the familiar clothing, one way or another.

"I've heard you have some lovely wine," he continued, not letting the vampire answer him but instead sparring a glance towards the ceiling, just briefly. "Well, not exactly 'heard,' but . . ." A chuckle of thunder. "I could really use the drink right now."

The island had no electricity. That meant no TV and no internet, unless on a mobile device, charged elsewhere. For a longer run, that solution was rather bothersome - and so, to not let himself be out of the loop, Richard found himself transported back to the XVII-th century... that is, reading a traditional newspaper.
It felt weird. There was so little information in it, and it was presented from only one point of view. To help with that, he bought all of the dailies to compare and contrast, and they were now awaiting their turn in a neat pile on the other end of his desk.

He was thankful for his extraordinary hearing; if not for it, he wouldn't have expected the sudden intrusion. Although, perhaps, by now he should. It didn't matter that Disaster had not left him time to answer, because Richard didn't even glance up from his reading to demonstrate what he thought of such manners.

Calmly, he continued reading the article until he was done and the time came to return from 'reality' to a world where your door could be smashed in by a flamboyant deity at any time. Which one he preferred, he wasn't sure. The latter was a bit more interesting.
"Quite dramatic." he said, both as a reply to the first question and as a comment on the entrance. Richard gave the man a flat look; he looked a bit unkempt and smelled of burning... Why? He stared at him for a moment, then shook his head and stood up slowly.

"I don't know what you're talking about." he said, folding up the newspaper, the big pages sounding quite noisy in the quiet room. After placing it on top of all the others, he walked out from behind the desk, as if to signal for the man to leave - or remove him by force. "I do not have any alcohol stashed in here whatsoever. You have brought this yourself, out of your own, unaffected volition, from the wine cellar." He gave him a pointed look and turned around to open the bottom drawer of a cabinet near by. After a bit of shuffling around, he turned to face Disaster again, holding a bottle of white wine and two glasses. His expression was still serious, though a twinkle in his eyes betrayed his amusement to some degree. "Is that clear?"

The familiar face smiled at such a compliment. He was supposed to be dramatic, flashy in any way possible . . . Did anyone forget a flash of lightning? He thought not. It remained in one's mind, etched in stone.

Vernal watched eagerly as the vampire told the 'truth' as it was and got out the wine. His grin increased at every word, letting out a small shrill of excitement when the wine was at last revealed. "Of course! Such a thief I am." He didn't reach for a glass, instead content to have the counselor pour for him. A healthy amount, hopefully.

The man managed to pry his eyes away from the wine bottle and towards the open door, having forgotten to close the entrance himself. That wouldn't do, would it? Vernal simply snapped his fingers per usual, waiting for the door to close itself-- but, the inanimate object refused, remaining where it was. Ah. Right. Vernal proceeded to walk over to the door and closed it himself, grinning up as brightly as usual at the vampire but not saying a word on the failure.

It didn't take a genius to notice something was wrong; the frazzled appearance, failing to close the door, and, well, needing a drink... Even his visit with no Ambrose around raised some suspicions. And yet, Disaster was grinning, way too happily. It was a bit unsettling. Still, Richard returned the smile, if a bit less enthusiastically, while he opened the bottle and filled the glasses.

He needed to find out what was up, and fast. He didn't like not being sure how to act.

Assuming the visit to be informal more than not, he made his way towards the couch. Earlier, he had moved it towards the center of the room, so that the stuffed bear wasn't directly behind it's back anymore, instead looming in the corner behind it like a watchful bodyguard. A second couch stood opposite the other for comfort. Whichever Disaster chose, he was going to stain the upholstery of. Oh well. Richard set down the wine on the coffee table between them, then glanced towards the man.
"Make yourself comfortable, et cetera." He shrugged, smiling somewhat apologetically. "This might not be the most gourmet wine, and it's temperature is suboptimal, but I think you'll enjoy it anyway... in your state." With that, he gave Disaster a questioning look, indirectly asking for an explanation. The deity better have a good reason for bringing all that soot in.

The familiar face noticed the uncomfortable return of the smile-- and, immediately retracted his, his mouth forming instead a calm smirk. It was definitely a more natural expression, the truer of the two kinds of smiles.

"Nothing gets past you, does it?"

Vernal took the nicer of the two couches with little hesitation and, from Richard's hands, the fuller of the two glasses, beginning to sip on the drink as soon as he was able. The man smacked his lips pensively, then having his smile grow ever-so-slightly.

"The wine is fine, vampire," he informed his host, crossing his legs and leaning back onto the blackened fabric. "I had forgotten what such a thing tasted like . . ." He then, without warning, downed the rest of the glass in a single swing, letting out a satisfied gasp when the drink was gone.

"Ah . . . I can feel my inhibitions disappearing even as I speak." He giggled slightly, then held out the now-empty glass towards Richard. "Fill 'er up, as they colloquially say."

He scoffed lightly. "I am widely regarded for my observation skills, indeed."

As both a good host and a bartender at heart, he stood and waited until Disaster tried the wine. Nodding, he was about to take a seat himself when his guest decided that the wine was fine enough to drink all at once. For a second, he raised an eyebrow, suddenly glad he didn't have any finer drink around.

"So you have inhibitions?" he asked in a casually conversationalist tone, like he was politely inquiring about somebody's pet puppy they had mentioned, while he refilled Disaster's glass. Holding the bottle in one hand and his own glass in the other, he hesitated, then gave the man a critical glance. Was sitting down even worth the effort? Well, he wasn't about to keep standing there and refilling his glass, either way. Richard put the bottle down and went to occupy the couch opposite Disaster.

"Now, I don't mind your company, but if you're only looking to get smashed, I assure you that the wine cellar is a better resource than my humble office." He took a sip. "I assume there is a reason you're here and not there, no?" He chuckled over the rim of his glass. "See, I am also known for my deduction."

"Doesn't everyone?" Vernal questioned back, raising a pierced eyebrow as the vamp so kindly poured more wine. "Don't assume that I don't constrain myself-- everyone has to, to a certain degree." He sipped on the wine halfway before choking on it, coughing loudly for a few seconds before regaining composure. The embarrassment continued . . . The familiar face cleared his throat before continuing conversation.

"I don't get drunk. And: I don't need a reason to stop in for a drink," he initially defended, the blazing smile back in full force before forcing it back to a normal facial expression for both their sakes. The vampire would find out soon enough, like everyone else-- why should he hide it? He had no shame in the event, no regret; it wasn't his fault, and if it was, he certainly didn't regret it . . . That's right: no shame. Move on.

Easier said than done.

The familiar face carefully set down the glass of wine, his smile slowly flickering away, his eyes on the wine and nothing else. What an odd sight it was, seeing something so trivial from so short a distance. He would have never payed attention to its rising bubbles before.

"I need . . . allies," he tried pensively, his smile extinguished completely and replaced with a neutral, comprehending expression. "I may be staying here for a while."

More like 'will.'

His gaze flickered over the man's attire, over his tight shirt and shiny, now a bit torn-up, trousers, over the piercings... They didn't exactly scream of constraint. Richard couldn't help a slight smirk, but figured that his opinion was perhaps best kept only implied.

The choking and coughing did not draw any reaction from him; he just kept a rather judging gaze upon his guest. Not only did Disaster stain his couch, now he was spluttering all over his floor. Briefly, he wondered if he wasn't being too captious, but Disaster wasn't a student, he wasn't even a faculty member. He was just a vaguely parent-ish figure of one of the students. Richard had no obligation to be kind and understanding.

And so, the return of Disaster's wide grin was met only with a look of indifferent disapproval as the vampire continued nursing his wine.

As the man put down his drink, his seemingly a bit forced cheerful attitude dissipating, Richard watched him with his expression unchanging. It seemed like the deity was getting to the point. And the point was quite unexpected. Here... meaning the Academy? Intriguing.

He pondered for a moment longer than necessary, letting the silence drag on uncomfortably.

"To a certain degree, I am an ally of every person who attends this school." he said finally. "Should you choose to join the community, that would include you as well. If you are asking more than that, however, you will need to tell me why."

"I am not 'choosing' anything," the familiar face frowned, shifting in his seat slightly. He didn't like the previous silence; nothing, in his mind, should be silent. Announce it to the whole world, if you're doing something worthwhile. Don't be subtle. "I'm merely taking the best of what was given to me. Call it . . . a leave of absence." With no idea of when he could return. He smiled slightly at his optimistic terminology; it was so stupid. . . .

Vernal picked up the glass once more, spinning the half-full glass 'round and around in-between his burnt fingertips. Such pretty bubbles.

"If you're wondering the particulars-- well, that would be getting far into how They operate, and I'm not entirely sure such explanation would be appreciated. It might, if your reaction is candid enough." He sipped on the warm drink, sparing a small glance upwards before returning his sight on the glass. As tempting as it was, he shouldn't provoke Them. Not now, anyways. "Whatever the case, I prefer all alliances to be personally made, not unconditional. It's safer that way."

Of course, this was all merely show, dancing about the given topic . . . but, what else did he have? Take away the destruction, and all he had was the performance before the demolish, the petty ceremony few cared to watch. He would use what he had left, delaying the inevitable when he knew it was no use. The vamp wasn't blind; he would eventually see the parlor tricks.

A leave of absence... He was kicked out?

Briefly distracted by the glass-spinning, Richard twitched slightly, glad it wasn't red wine... But even so, if the visitor spilled it over his couch, he would be-- politely asked out. Lines had to be drawn somewhere.

As he watched the movement of the liquid, he missed part of what Disaster said - but the part he registered was plenty enough to make him furrow his brow.
"Excuse me? 'If my reaction is candid enough'? Remind me, who is the one requesting something, again? It is in your best interest to explain things to me so that I would look more favorably upon this 'alliance' you propose." He inclined his head, staring at the man in a mildly irritated manner. "So far, you're not making a very good case, I'm afraid."

Disaster had suffered through some sort of a... disaster. That much was clear. His attitude was vastly different from the first time they met; the king of the world had been knocked down from his throne. And truth be told, in this case, Richard was far closer to schadenfreude than to compassion.

He shook his head, sighing tiredly, deciding to give the deity a last chance. That was probably the right thing to do. "Fair enough, though, don't explain why. Explain how. What is it, exactly, that you expect of me?"

The familiar face took time to sigh and mourn over the empty glass before responding. He set the container down on the table, hoping that Richard would get the hint to refill. Hint, hint. His face then took to forming a rather sad smile.

"While it is I that is requesting allegiance, it is They that are watching. Revealing such things without a great reward is . . . risky." Vernal leaned against the couch once more-- the seating arrangements were quite to his liking, despite everything. He needed all the comfort he could get during such times as these.

"I need-- oh, what's the word?" He snapped his fingers as if the sound would jog his memory. Rather like a crack of lightning: crack, crack-- "PROTECTION! That's it." He seemed rather please with himself on remembering such a word; on the contrary, Vernal felt like something was breaking. He was hoping to avoid the 'why,' but he would have to give the vampire something, a reason, soon enough. Just not now. Delay, delay, delay. The endless plea. "Students and otherwise will have the upper-hand on me for a time, so I will need a defendant. I will most likely require lodgings until the next semester begins. . . ." His worn fingers tapped the couch expectantly. A blanket, though, maybe some pillows, and it wouldn't be half-bad. He had had worse.

His face fell at the reminiscence. He hadn't thought of those days in . . . well, since they happened. Since he rose to deity-hood.
He really had fallen.

"Just ask," he pleaded hoarsely, eyes closed tight. "I might as well get it out of the way. Just . . . ask the 'why.' I know you want to." They wanted him to, as well. Admit the weakness, whisper the forbidden word. Give in to the truth.
Start the misery.

Richard's gaze stayed on the man, not flickering for even a moment towards the glass on the table. Right now, Disaster was in disfavor, and the vampire wouldn't be rushing to serve him until that changed. If it did.

He listened patiently, and while he tried not to show his annoyance, it became increasingly difficult to keep his brow from creasing. When the fuzzy-haired visitor dared to pat his couch, implying that he wanted to camp there, amongst Richard's precious possessions, he just couldn't help a scoffing huff. Preposterous.

Sure, he needed a 'defendant'. That much was obvious. Disaster clearly had little idea about the workings of the school. And while the counselor couldn't very well refuse to show a future student around on the basis of a petty grudge, well...

"Why" he said slowly. "is the right question." He leaned forward, looking to the deity straight-on. Funny how the mind works; the callousness felt almost alien to him at this point. Pushing that thought to the back of his head, Richard took a sip of the wine, then set his glass down on the table and intertwined his fingers.

"However... you misunderstand." He smiled, lightly and impassively. "I'm not interested in why do you want me to help you as much as I'm interested in why should I help you."

He opened his eyes slightly, squinting at the vampire as if to make sure of what he was seeing. Here he was, about to break down in front of him and Them, and yet . . . Richard had the indignity to only care what mattered to him and him alone. Just like Them. Just like Them! The nerve! The familiarity!

"You . . . You're really just in it for yourself, aren't you?" The familiar face laughed dryly. "Why you should help me . . ." The very words were irksome, unbelievable-- but, they itched at the truth. Better than plunging straight in. Better than his original confession. "For satisfaction of a job well done?

"But, seriously: I'm willing to pay." He regained his composure slowly, opening his eyes all the way. "I could be your spy amongst the student body-- save for the darling, of course. The other buggers, I could care less about." Impudent little brats. Vernal was still on edge, though; he didn't like the idea of 'selling himself,' of being subservient to anyone, immortal or not. That was something They All had in common.

He glanced over towards the wine, pouting slightly before grabbing the bottle himself and pouring a glass for himself, up to the very brim. The familiar face cradled the glass between both hands, taking a gentle sip. His limbs felt slightly weighted-- but, he shrugged it off. Like he told Richard before: he didn't get drunk.

As he listened to Disaster's words, Richard's smile turned more and more sour. Saying that didn't gain the deity any points; he would lose some - if only he had any left to lose.

Richard shook his head slowly. "I like helping people." he said simply. "Most charitable people are in it because it makes them feel good on some level. Is that selfish? You decide." He sighed, then picked the glass off the table and leaned back again. "Never mind that, though. My job is helping the buggers, yes, but there's a significant difference between them and you." He shrugged, then pointed a finger at the man. "I like them, and I don't like you."

With that out of the way, Richard sipped his wine slowly, looking at Disaster ponderously as he considered his offer. A spy amongst the student body... Could be useful, there were things he wasn't able to find out from his position; and of course, he didn't necessarily need to like somebody to cooperate with them. Although, did he really need that information badly enough to suffer Disaster's extended company...?

"I'm not convinced." he said finally. "How can I be sure that the intelligence you're capable of gathering will be worth it?" He paused, then smiled in a way too pleasant to not seem conceited, considering the circumstances.

"Prove it. As you've been watching over Ambrose, you've been around here for a while. Tell me something I don't know, or at least something that's hard to find out."

Was it selfish to feel good about oneself? While he pondered on saying ‘yes’ while sipping on his wine, about to directly to Richard as the prime example, pointing the traditional index finger made three more point straight back at him. He liked feeling good, but his actions were separated by those elations. Such things weren’t easy to communicate, though, so he simply closed the argument with the absence of action.

"Ouch." He took another sip of wine to ease the 'pain.' "I thought you were an ally to everyone in this place; doesn't that mean, to some extent, you like them?" So much for not debating philosophy. He couldn't help himself; the familiar face took yet another slip of the wine, the drink tickling his tongue. A smile escaped him . . .

Proof. Didn't the darling ask of something similar from the counselor? Things had a remarkable way of going in circles. He sank into the couch once more as he reminisced, rolling the various scenes through his far more limited mind. He couldn't recall all of the details he desired, but the events were clear enough. Clear enough to know he had a wonderful source of blackmail.

"Besides your rather malicious encounter with the 'Bearded Lady,'" he coughed out, unable to resist such mention, "there is the questionable alliance between a Kale and deer-anthro. They're making something, though what I am unsure of. It's all hush-hush." He wiggled his fingers out in front of him slightly as to add the effect of mysticism. He took another sip of the wine, while he was at it. Mmm.

The familiar face set down the wine glass with a surprising clatter, his hands slipping on the surface at the last minute. Amazingly enough, the glass didn't shatter-- and, well, there was nothing to spill. Ah, how the wine went by so fast.

"If we have a deal," Vernal smiled, re-placing the glass with a slight degree more of care, "would you like to make a toast?" As much as the vampire denied it, he was one of Them, through and through. Another source of entertainment was just what he desired.

(( If the mention of Kale and Valentine are not acceptable, I can change the information to something else. And yes, he did just empty a wine glass in one post. ))

Richard raised an eyebrow. Wasn't that exactly what he said: that he liked the kids...? Only then did he realize that while he wasn't halfway through his first glass, his guest was on his third. Quite a pace... although Disaster claimed that he didn't get drunk, whether that was true, or just common bragging, remained to be seen.

And so, he observed the man's drinking with more interest from then on.

Ah... that damned furry 'Gypsy'. The incident had slipped his mind. It was a bit... awkward, yes, but Disaster seemed to be implying that witnessing the counselor being less than perfectly hospitable towards a clingy, bothersome beggar gave him some leverage over him; and that was rather preposterous. Still, if the deity wanted to believe that, Richard wasn't about to correct him.
The second thing he mentioned was somewhat more important, and the vampire hesitated about how to respond to it. Valentin... His train of thought was interrupted by the clumsy gesture, though, and he flinched, then looked to Disaster with a disbelieving smirk. Not drunk... right, but at least a little tipsy.

"No. Why the rush?" he said, shrugging. Didn't they have all the time in the world? "You have made a point, you might have some knowledge that I do not possess. So, I think..." He paused for emphasis. "...that it might be time to tell me why."

A slight frown with the 'no'; ah, he wanted more wine now. There was also the wait on the alliance. Yes, that was important, too-- the wine simply came first. As much as he wanted to pour himself a glass, the familiar face restrained himself. Their conversation was quickly becoming a battle of wills, a battle of time, a battle of--

why. And now, they got to it. As much as Vernal expected the question, he would have rather refused. He would have rather side-stepped the question, pretended he not know which 'why' Richard was asking, chuckle it off, and move on to more pleasant conversation involving a fourth glass of wine in his slightly shaky hands. The vampire made clear which 'why,' though, made very clear with his pause. His delay. Delay, delay, delay. The endless plea.

The unanswered plea.

The familiar face flopped onto the couch once more, causing the furniture to creak slightly with the sudden weight. He slouched heavily onto its back, his legs stretched out in front and under the table while his netted hands covered the middle of his face, the eyes, nose, and upper-lip. It was a childish pose, he knew, but he needed something ridiculous to hang onto. It might as well be a posture.

A deep breath. Would the plunge really be that bad?

". . . You know how fond of the darling I am." Delay. More delay. Talking about Ambrose helped things, helped ease things. His voice was still bitter, though, still hoarse and dry. "You know I'd do anything for him, I would . . ." An inappropriate chuckle. "I'd send literal cats and dogs from the skies, if it would do the boy any good. It wouldn't, though. It really wouldn't. . . .

"There's only one thing the darling's ever wanted out of Us," Vernal continued, his voice low, of distant thunder. "Even while trapped in the asylum, he kept asking for the same thing, over and over . . . I wouldn't give it to him, though. That would be giving him up, and that is something I will never, ever do.

"And now, I have what I will never grant him."
He wouldn't say it out right. Spare him on that, at least. Spare him from uttering that detestable word, the word he had never wanted to hear or grace his lips again.

As Disaster spoke, Richard remained silent and still, save for raising the glass once to take a sip of the lukewarm liquid.

When the deity was done and it became clear he wasn't going to explain further, the counselor still wasn't sure what was he talking about. What Ambrose wanted the most...?

Realization widened his eyes, and for the first time, regardless of his personal dislike for the man, Richard was taken by sympathy. Without breaking the heavy silence that settled over the room, he rose from his seat, reached for the bottle, and poured the remaining of its contents into Disaster's glass, shaking it a little to get out the last few drops.

"I see." he said as he sat down again, voice somewhat softer than before. He could hardly imagine the feeling. No - he could not imagine it at all. He scoured his brain for something to say, but there was only one thing he could think of. Just one word.

"How?"

The familiar face peeked through his ringed fingers, gazing at the blessed wine a while before starting again. He was too worn now to reach the glass; he could no longer avoid the truth, and the truth's weight sunk him farther and farther down. He was thankful enough not to say the word, though, that he could say the rest easily enough.

"This." The familiar face-- there was no need for a facade now, was there?-- the tired man, rather, raised a hand from his face and laced its fingers around the ever-present necklace. Usually, its yellow pendant was in the shape of the traditional lightning strike, but so much of it had broken off, the shape was more akin to a jagged shark tooth.

"Diatoma." Vernal played with the shape idly as he spoke the word. What was revealed of his eyes were glued onto the ceiling. "Usually, We absorb them as We accept the contract. When the darling started to talk about the contracts, though . . . Dopamine and myself began to doubt. We summoned back our contracts, thinking that we could gain more control over our powers. Obviously, it backfired.

"Don't bother asking the 'who'-- I don't want your little office to erupt into hellfire."

He stopped speaking but a moment, focusing his gaze at last on the vampire. It was neutral, cold and distant. Dead. Broken.

"By telling you this, I ask of your silence on this matter to everyone.
Even to the darling."

He rested his hands in his lap, holding the glass carefully, and listened with interest. So... an attempt to gain more power gone terribly wrong... in an appropriately ironic way.

Idly, he noted just how cruel it would be to say something along the lines of 'you should have made that term clear before you actually told me'... but he wasn't nearly sadistic enough to do that. Disaster had taken enough of a punishment, really.

"Naturally."

For a moment, he pondered over the situation. Disaster's choice to seek some sort of protection seemed a wise one now, but Richard still wasn't about to jump at the deal. In all likelihood, it didn't entail much more on his part than it did for other students - and Disaster was, apparently, to become one anyway - but a little voice in his head kept insisting that for some reason, it was not a good idea.

Perhaps finding out more would help him come to some sort of a conclusive decision. He hummed in thought as he sipped his wine, then cleared his throat.

"Two questions. To what extent are you deprived of your former powers?" Sensitive questions... but he had to know. Richard shrugged to himself and continued in a dry tone. "And... do you suppose your current condition is irreversible?"

Although such a response was expected, it was still nice to hear it. Vernal breathed a sigh of relief at the vampire's confirmation before adjusting his position once more. The man slowly sat up and reached a weary arm towards the wine, barely, just barely grasping the glass. The grip was solid enough to swing the drink down his throat in one victorious gulp. He needed the alcohol now more than ever.

"No idea." He hunched his back over, smacking his lips for the last drops, desperate for any sort of distraction. Now that his eyes were revealed, his panic was clear: wide, darkened slightly underneath. Worry, distress. Something a deity should not have, in popular opinion, but there it was. "I haven't tried." He lifted up a hand experimentally and had to laugh at the result. It was pathetic.

"Shaking. I'm literally shaking at the idea."
So he was. He was pathetic. If the darling saw him now . . . But, what if he didn't have any of his powers left? What then? Would he be kicked out of the academy, the only safe spot left of him? Would he be vanquished to a normal life to live the rest of his days? No-- he couldn't afford to think like that. Not now. What good would it do?

"As for the second: again, no idea." Vernal fiddled with the glass in his hands, needing something, anything for his hands to do. "Might be temporary, might be taken back soon enough. It's hard to say who's in control of the result." He was in their hands. It was pathetic. "Admittingly, not many are on my side Up There." Pathetic! At least while he was Up There, he knew what was going on. Now? Now, he was left helplessly in their hands. He had no control left. None at all . . .

So Disaster knew nothing. He could do nothing, either. All he had was an ability to snoop around, apparently no better than a particularly nosy human - which, while not nothing, per se, was hilariously little. And now he was sitting here, a hopeless pile of misery and fear, looking like somebody chewed him up, then spat him out. Basically, on the counselor's mercy.

Richard stared at him in thought for a moment, the silence dragging on. Finally, he finished off the rest of his wine, leaned forward to set the glass on the table, then sat up straight again, intertwining his fingers.

"Listen, you asshole." he said calmly. "You prance in here like you own the place, stinking it up and scattering ashes everywhere. You demand wine, then down it at an entirely disrespectful pace. And then, you ask-- no, you expect, that I provide you protection against God knows what, in return offering some vague promise of information that I may or may not even want." His voice grew more exasperated as he spoke. "Do you even understand what you're doing? Do you know what my job here is? My job here is to sit and give those kids an opportunity to spit out what's bothering them, figure things out, sometimes give them advice if I feel I can. Not to get personally involved." He scoffed. "In fact, my desire to not get personally involved is precisely the reason why I'm doing this. I'm old and I'm tired, all I want is to kill time without having to leave a warm armchair. To live vicariously, if you will. I want nothing to do with any nigh-godly entities that I did not even believe existed up until now. I never asked for that. Especially not for the sake of someone like you." He had to pause for a moment to catch his breath, and that got him to realize what exactly he was doing - standing up and almost growling at the ex-deity. Annoyed with how he let himself get angry, Richard rolled his eyes, then looked down to Disaster coldly as he crossed his arms. "Are you even surprised that not many are on your side? You managed to piss me off, and that's no mean feat."

He let out a sigh as he looked away. "What I'm saying, you pathetic little man, is that as far as your mundane existence on this island is concerned, I will help. When it comes to Their business, you're on your own. Comprende?"

Vernal was left to wallow in his sorrows for several minutes before Richard decided to finally continue conversation. During the pause, the man had taken to crossing his legs, tapping his foot off-beat, and leaning against the couch once more, his eyes darting this way and that. He couldn't sit still for long; it wasn't what They required of him. What sort of storm lingered? Not an exciting one. When the vampire's words came, though, the familiar face found himself frowning in slight disappointment and . . . insult? For the first time in a long while, Disaster actually found himself insulted by something. Amazing. Awe quickly replaced the anger; he knew his emotions better than the vampire, it seemed. Ignoring the flagged word, the former deity began his rebuttal.

"First off," he began, deciding to clear his name before anything else, "I've sipped on wine twice, maybe thrice before, so I had and have no idea what an appropriate clip for drinking away one's sorrows would be. I wanted to try it but had things to discuss with you; ergo, I visit your office for a drink." His eyes strayed towards the ceiling . . . "Secondly: there is no such thing as 'protection from' Them-- 'God knows what,' you flatter the supposed Gods, saying that. God wished he knew what They were." He chuckled dryly at the pour joke, prying his eyes once more from the supposed heavens. "Thirdly: from the moment Ambrose spoke to you about Us, you became involved. If I remember correctly, you took such an idea with near-joy when it was first mentioned. A new form of entertainment-- only now are you realizing that you are a participant." It was too bad, really; the vampire should've been up in the stands, not on the stage.

The man uncrossed his legs and stood with the counselor, cocking his head so that their eyes could not help but meet. Slight amusement lingered in the former deity's eyes, but the rest was emotionless.
"Fourthly: I can count the number of times I've been surprised on one hand.
"Fifthly: hypothetical hell would freeze over before anyone besides the candidates anger me."
He brought his head straight once more. Maybe he said too much. . . . A smile quickly covered up such hesitation.

"So, to answer you: si, senor. I've been on my own plenty of times before this sudden . . . mortality." The man forced the word out, not backing away from the vamp's challenge. He would show him-- all of Them-- that he wasn't pathetic. He'd show himself, too. "One or two allies is all I need now. And, I would like it very much if you were one of them."

He listened, his anger all but gone, turned into something of an ever-familiar, exhausted bitterness. It flared up slightly again when Disaster made a jab at him losing control like he did, and he narrowed his eyes indignantly... but in all honesty, the man was right, so Richard just frowned and straightened out his jacket.

Mortality. So the word was spoken. It sounded fittingly morbid.

He sighed. "Fine, I will forgive you your ignorance. Your attitude was still inexcusable, however. I don't recall us being old friends for you to be marching in without even knocking." He scoffed, then finally looked to the ex-deity again, something dark flickering in his eyes. "But you misunderstand. I did not think you were asking protection from Them. I sincerely hope neither of us is deluded enough to think I could provide it. I meant that you, yourself, aren't sure what you need a 'defendant' for." He made air quotes around the 'defendant'. Sure, life as a mortal human amongst the local populace had to seem frightening, but nobody was going to eat him... not right away. And Richard was no bodyguard anyway. As he thought to address Disaster's next point, his lips twitched and a silent chuckle shook his chest. Ambrose... How things have changed.
"My conversation with Ambrose was ages ago, surely." His amusement could not be contained anymore, and he laughed, tilting his head back, glancing towards the bloody chandelier. If nothing else, he hoped that at least They enjoyed the show.

As he returned his gaze to Disaster, a self-deprecating, yet good-humored smile was on his face. His ability to laugh at himself would surely - hopefully - be the last thing to go.
"Okay, fine." He shook his head. "I can't be bothered to argue anymore. You just need to understand that I'm honestly not much more than a human who can't die properly."

"Much thanks," the familiar face smiled almost genially. "And, correct me if I'm wrong, but I did knock the first time. I would hope that'd be enough."

They had finally reached an understanding . . . The vampire knew where he stood with Them, at least, and could even laugh it off. It was a good start, an excellent start. Accepting Their presence was half the battle and made things a lot easier on his own end.

"'Defendant' is a bit too formal; I like 'ally' better." The man was using his hands while speaking more flamboyantly than ever. "I'm not asking you to serve me or anything of the sort-- you'd look ridiculous in a suit of armor or the like (not that wearing such things would help against Them). It's more just knowing you have . . . Gah." A furrowed brow; before he could stop the words, they came: "Idioms still get me sometimes. I think it's 'got my back.' Is that it?"

Horror struck Vernal once realizing what he just said. Gloss it over, gloss it over--!
"Regardless, just more than human is what I need; I need to relearn being human before the darling catches on. You might think of things I wouldn't: breathing, eating, sleeping . . . From one former human to another coming back again. Also, your good relations with Ambrose might come in handy with . . . smoothing things over." He still hadn't told the darling, hadn't he? A little more delay couldn't hurt.

The former deity held out a many-ringed hand, grinning widely.
"I would propose a toast for our deal-sealing, but the wine has dried out. Will a handshake do in its stead?"