Sparkle Motion

[Heathcliff Staley]

Heathcliff can't help but smile as he walks through the doors of Club Ember. He hadn't been here in at least six months, but Daryl, that dredlocked, oompaloompa of a man, still watched the door, as well as cause new patrons to consider whether the proprietor of the establishment had completely misunderstood the qualities required in a 'bouncer.' Which was a mistake on their part. Heathcliff could clearly recall the time some kid had drank too much, got handsy with the girls, then attacked Daryl like some kinda rabid chihuahua. The kid's fists raised not a ripple on Daryl's stout frame, and one fat fist swung down and hit the kid so hard in the shoulder that his knees buckled and he hit the floor like a sack of potatoes. Daryl also never forgot a regular.

"What you say there, Cliff?" he greets the neonate with a smile and a nod as one droopy arm pushes the door open for him to enter.

"Doin' good, Daryl, doin' good," Heathcliff lied as he strode past him into the dark den of strobe lights, smoke machines, mirrors, glitter, and sweat. No one ever wants to hear anything different anyway.

Here, Heathcliff was hardly distinguishable from the other sad, old men who sat by themselves and smiled as they forked over their hard-earned dollars to play pretend for a few hours that Life was Good and Death had Lost the Tab.

He took a seat by himself along a back wall. He had a poor view of the stage from here, but a clear line of sight to the door. He ordered a beer from a passing waitress and watched Naomi's taut,tan body writhe in ecstasy for what appeared to be a grand sum of nine Yankee dollars. Good value, he thinks, and looks back at the door.

[Arnoud Giessen]

Only three minutes early to his appointment Arnoud halts in front of the midget bouncer with a smile and three words. A nod from the bouncer and Arnoud is inside. Slowly walking into Club Ember Arnoud moves with apparent determination while he scans those present. It takes Arnoud about fifteen seconds to spy Heathcliff along the back wall -the strobe lights and smoke took some adjusting to- at which point he makes a beeline for the neonate.

"Good evening, Heathcliff." Arnoud greets the youngling with a smile on his face, savoring the few moments before sitting down. Arnoud was anything but a large or even just tall man and sometimes it felt good to at least appear taller. Sure, the Haunt was sitting down and Arnoud was standing but it is the thought that counts.

"This seat taken?" Arnoud asks while indicating the nearest empty seat.

If Arnoud is invited to take the seat he does so and pulls it closer, keeping about a yard between the two of them. Sitting down Arnoud takes a moment to really look at the place he had wandered into. To Arnoud's eyes this was a dreary place that half-heartedly hid it's emptiness behind paltry pretensions of class while making a buck serving and servicing losers -both employees and customers- too far gone to care about where they were wasting those few brief years of life remaining to them.

As though the entire place was a grossly oversimplified summary of the world entire. Nice.

"Quite some place you've got here, Heathcliff." he says while smiling his approval.

[Heathcliff Staley]

Heathcliff sees Arnoud enter and that gives him the seconds he needs to quell the Beast's instinct to flee from the elder predator, and instead greet him with a small, anxious smile. "Of course," he says, offering him the open seat with a short sweep of his hand.

"It does have a certain something," he agrees with a crooked grin. "Try not to step in any of it." Heathcliff chuckles quietly, barely audible over Tonya grinding her ass against a brass pole to Aerosmith's "Back in the Saddle." She was wearing a white cowboy hat and a smile. Oops, there goes the hat. He motions for the waitress to add another beer to his order.

"Two drink minimum," Heathcliff explains with a shrug. "So, Arnoud...that's an interesting name, by the way...what can I do for you?"

[Arnoud Giessen]

Arnoud returns a less grin in response to Heathcliff's joke or, more precisely, his chuckling. As Heathcliff reveals the drinking minimum. Arnoud also waits to catch the eye of the waitress. As she turns to them with Heathcliff's beer he raises a finger and makes a drinking motion with his hand. The waitress would probably get it and, if not, come over and ask him.

"Interesting in what way?" Arnoud asks as the waitress delivers their drinks, putting off the second half for after she leaves.

[Heathcliff Staley]

"I just mean I've never heard it before," Heathcliff states simply.

[Arnoud Giessen]

"Ah. Do you appreciate novelties?" Arnoud asks with some interest as he rearranges the beers the waitress brought to more optimal positions. As she leaves Arnoud and Heathcliff to their obligatory drinks, Arnoud looks at Heathcliff with a hard to place expression.

[Heathcliff Staley]

Heathcliff's gaze lingers on Jasmine's gyrating hips while he considers Arnoud's question. He returns his milky stare to Arnoud and says, "No. I appreciate knowledge."

[Arnoud Giessen]

"Knowledge." Arnoud echoes with a pleased smile. "On that note I'd like to answer your question... What can you do for me?"

Turning his body fully toward Heathcliff Arnoud makes eye contact with those eerily milky globes.

"I came here to offer you something, Heathcliff. Either something simple or major, depending on how you look at it."

"But first I would know you a bit better. Can I ask you to tell me of yourself? And of how these last months have been to you? I'd like you to speak candidly but would understand if you had certain reservations on the matter."

[Heathcliff Staley]

Heathcliff is sufficiently curious as to Arnoud's offer and disposition to confide something of himself to his elder. His curse was something of a blessing here; he was so thoroughly bland and humble in appearance that the notion that Heathcliff might have a family didn't usually enter people's minds.

"Ok. Well, my story is not terribly interesting," he warns Arnoud disinterestedly, as though he was bored with himself. "My father was a surgeon. He wanted me to go into medicine, as well, but...the sight of blood made me queasy." Heathcliff laughs at the irony. "I did want to help people, though, so I went to school to learn public policy. When I finished my studies, I got on at the SHA, and began my illustrious career pushing paper through red tape. I was good at it, too. They promoted me to oversee a few pencil-pushers of my own. I was cruising to early retirement and a pension before some psychotic Born-again fundamentalist re-made me in his own twisted image. That was a little over a year ago." Heathcliff makes a valiant attempt at clearing his throat, but to no avail.

"The last few months...well, I've been eating better," he says with a nervous laugh. "I've no right to complain; I'm still alive, or whatever, and that means things can get better." The last line sounds practiced, like a self-affirmation.

[Arnoud Giessen]

Arnoud looks most intentive and not the least bit bored by the supposedly boring story. He even laughs at the irony of at one time being averse to what was now their most essential need and looks compassionate as Heathcliff talks of his Sire.

While Arnoud wouldn't be surprised to learn that some of what Heathcliff now said was either embellishment or outright misdirection the general gist of the story confirms his suspicions; Heathcliff was young and in many ways still human. That he even spoke of his mortal days when asked to reveal something of himself indicated as much. There was more good news, the dismissive talk of psychotic born-again fundamentalists was music to Arnoud's ears though he feared it might have been planted there by a conniving Mariel. The fact that Heathcliff spoke little of the years since his death did not sit well either. Could it be that the poor creature was so human he was still repressing the reality of his new existence? Or was it shame or something darker that held his tongue?

Nevertheless, he spoke truthfully enough. Yes, things could get better, Heathcliff. But they could also get worse, a lot worse. Best not tell him so, though. There's Truth, the truth and then there was the whole truth. Best stick with the truth for now.

"I know is poor consolation at this point, Heathcliff, but you are right. Things change and with effort one can make them change for the better. In a few years you could be looking back on these nights and realize your situation has much improved. This is the main reason I'm here, actually."

"I won't lie to you; I can't imagine what it was like to have had a Sire like the one you describe but I can imagine you want things to get better. I'd like to help you out, offer you a chance to change the odds in your favor."

"It's a concept alien to most Kindred -and maybe to modern man in general- but I feel you are human enough to remember what it was like to have people you could hang with, could turn to when you were troubled and could count on when in actual trouble. What I want to offer you, Heathcliff, is friendship."

Arnoud says this while wearing the sincerest look he's had on his face since the new millennium came about. Watching and waiting for Heathcliff's verbal and facial responses Arnoud slowly and discreetly takes in air -breathed in- so he might speak again later. This was the hardest part. How often and hard had Heathcliff been abused? How much trust did Staley have left after a year of vampirism and undead politics?