[AU][C] Wine and Dine

Giacinto huffed, pulling up the upper hem of her corset with a little wiggle. "Hundreds of years to perfect dresses, and they still fail to make them comfortable to wear."

Besides the ancient vampire, her husband hummed in amusement, watching as the adjustment of her corset moved her breasts enticingly.  "You'll soon be free of it, I suspect," he commented. "Assuming your standards are as low as they usually are."

A coy smile came to Giacinto's rouge-painted lips, and dark lashes fanned over her powder-whitened skin as she looked down in a mockery of demurity. "My standards are perfectly acceptable, dear husband."

To be invited to one of these gatherings was all about the thrill of the chase; to convince some poor unsuspecting person to join you for a bite. Many vampires found it fun to chase the ones that evade them. Giacinto had little patience when she wasn't feeling frisky. She wanted to find someone she could pick off quickly. Get to the best part of the evening as quickly as she could.

Ignicio's eyes, the iris masked by pupils blown wide with belladonna, turned to the third person in their small party. "I assume your standards will be as low as hers?"

Dick make a little tsk sound between his teeth.

"My standards aren't that low."

Blue eyes skimmed the crowd. There were a few familiar faces; human and vampire. A crowd of beautiful faces.

Their host was rather vain.

Ignicio and Giacinto both laughed at the comment, drawing the attention of quite a few people around them.

Ignicio was quick to be distracted, leaving with a few quiet words to his wife.

Giacinto, however, leaned closer to the younger Vampire. "What luscious snack are you searching for tonight? A sweet, dainty little girl? Native? Or would you like something exotic under your tongue tonight?"

Giacinto herself had already clocked a plump woman stood at the edge of the floor.

His eyes flicked over the crowd again.

"I would rather starve than have a girl."

He didn't have the same tastes for woman as the other two.

"But I do fancy someone a little more exotic. I'm bored with stuffy Englishmen."

Giacinto tutted, and ignoring the mutters that arose, pinched one of Dick's pale cheeks, bringing a sharp flush of colour into it, like a mother scolding her child.

"And a woman would rather have you starve to death than let you feed with that attitude. Have I taught you nothing? You catch more flies with..." She trailed off purposefully, expecting him to finish the life lesson that she had drilled into him decades ago.

Dick made a little nose and pressed his hand against his reddened cheek. He gave Giacinto a cool glare.

"I don't want to catch any flies."

He knew the phrase. It had been drilled into him. But he was feeling stubborn.

Giacinto paused, her expression falling, her stare intense, made eerie by the lack of coloured pupil in the gaze.

She reached up, gripping the back of his neck. The action would look familiar to outsiders, familial intimacy, but the grip was tight. Enough so that a human may buckle from the pain of it. Dick was a little more hardy, but the threat was there.

"Tread carefully, boy, or next time I won't invite you, and you can dine on the homeless while I feast on cleaner blood."

She smiled brightly then, sealing her threat into a promise.

"Enjoy your night." Her voice was too kind and upbeat. Dick was in deep shit if he carried on.

And with those words, she was off, ready to play chase to some sweet noblewoman.

Dick straightened at the grip on the back of his neck, nerves prickling.

He didn't take her threat lightly.

Curling a piece of hair behind his pierced ear, he tried to will the tinge of pink off his face. He felt like a child chastised in public. The only difference being Giacinto's tone had remained light and pleasant, and he was close to half a millennial.

Calmed, he began to make his way around the room. Greeting a few familiar, hopeful faces. There was also a few hopeful faces that didn't take his fancy.

Among the crowd, a young man stood, chatting privately with a tall woman with similar features to his own.

They both wore a deep red, accented with golden embroidery of the same floral pattern.

The young man laughed, his face lighting up. A face lined with thick stubble, perhaps one of just a handful of men sporting facial hair in the room, and the only one with hair so unrulily grown. There was little in the way of grooming, bar keeping it at a short length. 

His skin was dark, not lightened with powder or cosmetic of any kind.

His hair, thick and curled, trailed down his back longer than many women's, tied with a deep red ribbon that kept it at bay.

Boring. Boring. Done before. Boring. A woman. Boring.

Dick was almost going to give up on tonight. No one was grabbing his attention. Most were familiar faces and anyone new didn't grab his fancy. He was feeling particularly fussy tonight.

Then, as if fate meant it to be, just as he was about to give up and settle for less, his eyes landed on him.

He was taller, broader, tanned. His hair as kept unusually long for a man. The facial hair was interesting. He also liked it. It was so rare now to find now beyond a thick moustache unless he wanted to roll around in less than clean blood.

With confidence, he made his way over to them at an unhurried pace.

"Good evening, I don't believe we had the pleasure? I haven't seen either of you at one of these parties before."

You catch more flies with honey than vinegar.

As Dick approached, their voices became more pronounced, and it was clear that they were speaking in neither common language. English nor French sounded from them. Instead they talked in a rough dialect of Italian.

The warm greeting had the two pausing in chat about the pomp of the upper class British society, and turning to meet the man that spoke.

The two shared a look before the young man inclined his head to the newcomer. "Good evening." His accent was thick. "I am new to this..." He trailed off, trying to find the right word. "This," he decided on. "Hank Masin, and my sister. She is Carmen Pierce."

He gestured to the young woman beside him, who curtsied and gave the young man a quiet greeting.

Dick knew Italian, even if the dialect wasn't overly familiar. He spoke it more often than his own mother tongue. He knew what they were speaking about, criticizing the English upper class.

He didn't pull them up on it. Besides, there was something enduring hearing an accent.

"Mister Masin, Miss Pierce, pleased to make your acquaintance."

Carmen he vaguely recognised. The name Pierce he definitely recognised. It was easy to make the connection that she could possibly be related to the up and coming Italian trading family.

What was interesting was that he introduced them siblings, and there wasn't a ring on either of their fingers.

So, he was a bastard?

"I'm Richard Plantagenet. I hope you are both enjoying yourselves this evening?"

He was a bastard. It was almost armour he wore now. His entire life he had listened to whispers and insults. Now he was stronger for it; above the remarks.

"Richard," he repeated, his accent twisting the name to something almost unrecognisable.

"We... are." There was a slight hesitation in his response. He wasnt enjoying it so well as he could. It was all very upscale and high class. Not so much his tastes.

Dick was taken slightly aback when Hank addressed him by his first name. He liked the familiarity of it. The forwardness of it, intentional or not.

Dick tilted his head. That sounded like a lie.

"Maybe I could show you a better time?"

His eyes flicked up and down in a very intentional and forward way. A subtle gesture that could rile up the wrong person.

The suggestion he thought was for his sister until those pale eyes ran intentionally slowly over his own body.

He straightened some, drawing up to a fuller height. His previously hunched shoulders straightened, showing off just how broad they really were. 

Blood coloured his cheeks pink under the natural dark tan of his skin.

Could Richard be...? It wasn't often that he met other men that... Especially here, where it seemed to be even more of a taboo than it was back home, and in the upper classes as well.

"Carmen."

Hearing the hint in his tone, his sister bid her goodbyes and left, more than happy to peruse the room herself.

With his sister gone, his eyes settled on Richard again. "A better time, sir?"

Even under the tanned skin, it was easy to see him complexion warm up. He liked having that effect on men.

He bid his sister a polite goodbye and his attention turned fully back on Hank.

In a far too comfortable manner, he held his bicep to lead him around the room. It would have done more than raised eyebrows, but vampires always tended to be more liberal.

"A much better time." He paused. "You are aware what type of party this is?"

He turned his eyes up, gleaming.

Hank's gaze turned away immediately when the arm was offered to him, cheeks flushing deeper red and eyes scanning the crowd for anyone watching.

Wasn't this supposed to be a taboo? Relations between men in such a familiar manner. Wasn't this supposed to be looked down on? Yet he seemed so comfortable offering an arm like he was a lad he was inviting to a stroll.

It took him a long moment to accept the arm, and his eyes strayed anywhere but the man leading him.

"A gathering of advancement, to build alliances, yes?" He'd been told that this was for them to network, make alliances with other lesser nobles and strengthen their ties. It was what his other siblings, of which there were four besides Carmen in attendance, had been doing.

An amused smile cured his lips.

So, he didn't know. Not too surprising, considering that he was new.

"Yes, something like that."

There were a few raised eyebrows and whispers. Each one he ignored and shrugged of. He had been taught to have thick skin.

Besides, they were all from humans. If either of them tried anything, he could easily handle them. Or Giacinto can handle them if it gets too bad. One of the two.

He took a glass off a platter held by a servant.

"Champaign?"

"Something like that," he repeated in a whisper.

"Did I say it wrong? My English is not good. I learned it new." His cheeks flushed again, and his gaze turned away, watching two women stand side-by-side talking with each other.

He'd been babbling. He needed to stop that. His English was bad enough without word vomit.

"Ah, no, thank you." He shook his head lightly, raising a hand to deny it. He wasn't much of a drinker, and he found most drinks didn't agree with him. Too sweet, too light.

Dick shrugged and sipped the champagne himself.

"No, you haven't said anything wrong."

The blush was very enduring. It caused a slight tinge of pink to rise to his own face, but he didn't shy away from looking. He accepted long ago that he blushed easier than most.

"It's just the way you said it made it sound cold. It is just we get to know each other... intimately here. If someone takes favour of you, it could be very beneficial to you and your family."

Not that he had ever done that.

"Intimately?" He knew that word, and he drew back slightly, dropping Richard's arm.

"You forget yourself, sir."

The implication had been quite clear. If someone took an interest in you - like Richard had with him - you spread your legs to benefit your family.

His cheeks flamed hot.

Dick turned to face the other man. He had to tilt his head up slightly.

He took another sip of his champagne, looking at Hank. There was amusement showing on his face as he watched the man burn.

"Have I? I am only talking innocently, over a drink and a smoke."

Although, only one of them would be drinking.

"Stai insinuando troppo." The accusation was soft, but rolled off his tongue before he could do anything about it.

Hank could read between the lines.

That wasn't an innocent comment, and he wasn't used to the forwardness of it.

________________________________
You are insinuating too much.

The amused smile didn't leave his face, but he pretended to play dumb. It would be entertaining to see what other throwaway comments he would make at him.

"Sorry, what was that?"

The question drew him back to himself.

He cleared his throat, eyes dropping to the floor, and cheeks flaming again, in shame.

"I apologise. I... forgot myself."

He'd let being flustered get the best of him. If he did that in the wrong company, it could end badly for his family.

"Talking," he prompted. "About what happens here."