"No goin' off the grid here." That was the truth. Cassidy settled back with a shifting of his shoulders, head tilted back so he could look up toward the ceiling.
"Or. We're as off the grid as you can go. Bloody fairies."
Fairies and angels and whatever else. Jesus. Cassidy sat with that a moment, until he felt a bubble of humor rising out of the situation.
"Me mother warned me about the aos sí takin' me away. D'you think this is what she meant?"
In the course of the last question, his look of squinting curiosity turned into a grin.
Matt had to laugh at that, shaking his head as he took another pull from the pipe before handing it over.
"Perhaps it is. Though I daresay there's been much more opportune times. I was tidying things up in Russia when they nabbed me - could have used them getting out of the stocks at least once or twice.
For the French, it was never the Fairies. It was the bears from the woods, and the English. Always the damned English," he said with another laugh as he sat back, sighing softly to himself.
"I suppose we should be grateful for the sun alone though, hmm?"
"The damned English," Cassidy echoed with a low laugh. "That's a classic in either accent, is it not?"
He surrounded himself with another thin cloud of smoke while he thought over the gratefulness question.
"The sun, and a few other things." Opium was feeling pretty high up on the list, at the moment. And there was more than just that. Cassidy rolled his head to face Matt, a frown pulling at his lips.
"Matthew." Could he get serious with you, for a moment? "I consider myself as much a gentleman as any boy from Dublin City, which is to say not much of one at all, but. I respect women, right? I don't do nothin' that hasn't been asked for, or I haven't paid for. I don't take advantage. And I understand the circumstances of this place are fairly fucked up, so there's the context for what I'm gettin' at: I'm not certain I've ever so many non-professional women say 'yes' to me in so short a time. And I went to bloody Woodstock!
"Not to mention there's bloody Star Wars characters walkin' about. Place is unbelievable."
Matt chuckled. "It's easy when they've always been assholes."
He stood, hands absently patting himself down before he found a small box of cigarettes, popping it open to pull out one obviously hand-rolled cigarette and sitting down again, rolling the cylinder between his fingers with a hum of attentive acknowledgement.
Of course he could.
The laugh was a slow growing one, starting from his chest and breaking through him with deeper sound as the easy smile spread into a grin.
"You're not exactly an ugly man, mon ami, and we are in the place for it. There are firsts for everyone, I'm sure." Including him.
"Please tell me you met Obi-Wan Kenboi. He was my favorite."
"No. What? No." Cassidy sat forward as abruptly as he could, which was already not all that abruptly, and fixed Matthew with a look of incredulity. "Ben Kenobi is not here. Tell me you're gettin' ready to pull the other one."
...oh. Oh, wait, hang on. Matthew meant that Obi-Wan was his favorite from the movies.
"...unless you haven't seen him either, and you was just askin'. Right." He sat back again with a wave of his hand. "No, no. It was Padmé. Queen Amidala from the bloody prequels. I think I scared her off. Said to meself, I had to draw the line at science-fiction characters. That's too much. But apparently not."
Cassidy knew he'd been here for weeks. His powers of memory retention weren't so shot that he couldn't ground himself in the passage of time. But there were still moments where this almost felt like an ongoing hallucination.
"Although," he went on, leaving the metaphysical questions aside for now, "I will say if Ellen Ripley were to turn up here, you would not hear me complainin'."
"Wha-" Ever easily swayed, Matt couldn't help but perk up a little, running over things in his head in fragments that would do him no good anyway and nodding as Cassidy came around to the right idea, crooked smile lazy in its pull.
"Hey now, if we are drawing lines at Sci-fi, let's not invite Aliens in. I don't even have my sword and I would not want to think about trying to fuck one of those things." Despite the laugh that came with the inflection.
"I'd much rather the disco Valkyrie from Conan. Let's get her."
"Oh, Jesus, no, not the damn aliens," Cassidy returned the laugh with a morbid glee, and moved pipe and lighter into one hand so he could bend down for his glass of whiskey. He drank while considering Matthew's counter-offer.
"Mm. Yes. Good one." Although Ripley had been his first thought, he had to concede that inviting even the concept of those aliens into reality wasn't the best idea. Who else could he conjure up?
"Ooh. No. I've got me choice. Barbarella. Gorgeous, sexually insatiable, hero of the galaxy. There's a get for the fairies." He lifted his glass toward the ceiling. "Hear that? Request made."
Matt cemented there that he liked Cassidy. Far too many people were insistent to whine about where they came from or what they had going on that very very few had stopped to take a moment of time to think about the sheer possibilities of the place.
As silly as inviting trouble might be.
Matt groaned in a needy agreement. "Seconded. Jane Fonda can hold me up at any point she pleases. Though I will say there are a tragic number of beautiful women who aren't known due to lack of movies. Especially French women. Mm, our girls are the best, I'd wager on it."
Cassidy frowned. "I guess this is the part where I'm meant to defend Irish lasses, but honestly, one of the greatest loves of me life was a Frenchwoman in New Orleans, so. I'm not takin' that bet."
He drained his glass, partly so he could put it down and hit the pipe again.
"I like the Irish - firey. Hell with a broomstick, too. There was a.. .a wee girl," he started, taking on a very good Irish accent for the last bit, "who I got quite enamored with. Worked at the local tailor shop with eyes like the sky and skin like satin.
I'd say even her mother was pretty, as she beat me out of their barn," he finished with a laugh. "Can't say I've had that from any French mothers, though plenty of busted lips and gunshot wounds from their husbands."
"International Playboy." Cassidy made a presentational gesture in Matthew's direction. "That's the vibe I'm gettin'. Beddin' women in every nation across the globe. Probably jumped away from a few explosions. Vampire James Bond. Am I on the money there?"
"If I can help it," he said without an inch of shame and an air of confidence in his broad smile. "A few men, if they strike my fancy but that's more rare than anything. What I'd give to be James Bond though," he said with a light laugh.
"I hunt, when I'm asked to, doing the work of the court with my sword and hammer, and when I'm not, it's all stocks and moving numbers. Nothing quite as exciting as anything that comes out of spy novels, unless you count running from angry husbands as such.
And you then, do you work or is it a free floating existence?"
"You won't find me workin' for no courts. Not even if they would let me use a sword." Because that did sound pretty awesome.
"Mostly I spend Seamus's money. He's the one with the ambition. But I will work for the extra cash, when I need it. Or if the job's fun enough. Which is how I wind up chaperonin' bachelor parties to Mexico." For example. "But I don't need much... never did. Long as there's enough money to buy drugs, and the occasional jaunt to the whorehouse, everything else is extra."
"No? Well, being carved out in front of them for not is worse." There was a tinge of guilt about it all. Matthew was far from bloodthirsty and he hated such useless loss of life but he did as he was commanded.
"I admit we've been trained a bit.."
He needed another hit and took a deep one.
"I've always had a taste for the finer and gallivanting among them. I can't do that off odd jobs, nor would my sister have let me I dare say. Enjoy your freedom, mon petit chou, it is a blessed thing."
"If I've been flyin' under the radar of some official vampire society all these years, I've got more luck than I been accountin' for."
Cassidy had been assuming that he and Matthew were from the same world. He still wasn't entirely sure that wasn't the case... but the things that didn't quite match up were starting to mount. How many different realities could the fairies reach into? How many Earths? How many different versions of Paris or New Orleans or Texas? Were they really different, or was it all some mess of quantum physics, each world a single still frame of a fractal?
These were fairly bog-standard stoned thoughts, and a good sign that the opium was doing its work. They were also hitting Cassidy in a whole new way, given his fresh real-life perspective on multiple realities. For a long moment, he allowed the thoughts to swirl around and through his head, one of his knees bobbing idly side to side as he stared up at the ceiling.
"We should have some music, next time," he said — a stray, passing thought in the middle of all those metaphysics. Music always made the high better.
"You certainly are." He wasn't going to spoil Cassidy with the dark, dirty details, especially with the light, airy feeling of the drugs in his system. He was half melted in his chair, head rolling back with a sigh as he let his limbs relax and settle.
This is what he'd needed. Well, part of what what he needed.
"Mmm, depends on what kind. I'm boring and in love with what's called 'Classic' now, I suppose." Alexander was always the 'hip' one. "What do you like?"
"Oh, me, sure, I could do classic rock." Not his absolute first choice, but he wouldn't say no to it. "The Stones. AC/DC. The Who. Definitely."
Always a safe bet to start with those more conventional, less embarrassing options — though Cassidy was just relaxed enough to dip a toe into other waters.
"You know who's great in pop now, though, is Carly Rae Jepsen."
The look Matthew gave him could only be described as confused horror.
"Savage," he accused dramatically before laughing. "Further back, ya heathen. I don't even know what that means, 'pop'. Most recent thing I can say I've listened to with purpose is.. One of the Billies. Joel or.." He wiggled a couple of fingers absently, "Idol."
"Honestly, I could not tell you," he said with another chuckle. "Music is the least attended to of my tastes. Now Theater - that's a different story. I do love to catch a show or three. At least their names tend to be memorable.
Oh, Elton John isn't bad either, though I think of him less often then I should in this subject.
"Pop. Rock. EDM — that one's a bit like classical, eh? Not too many lyrics."
Okay, so that was a pretty bullshit comparison, but it was the sort of bullshit that'd make an entertaining argument.
"I'm not all that bothered about genre, really. But I love goin' to concerts. The way the crowd has its own sort of energy. Speakers turned up so loud you can feel it in your chest, like... plus, these days they got all the lasers and pyrotechnics. Makes it quite the spectacle."
Although the level of enjoyment in things like lasers did depend on the substance being taken.
"Music to smoke opium by," Cassidy mused. "Maybe jazz? Some smooth saxophone... brushes against drum heads. Solo female vocalist singin' about the days gone by — I reckon that could be just the ticket. Whadda you think?"
It was a silly idea but nothing that Airy hadn't done before. She liked showing people that she cared about them though this castle didn't seem like a particularly wise place to do that. After wrestling with what to do, Airy finally caved and walked to Cassidy's room with the small parcel she had purchased weeks ago. The object was wrapped in brown with a bit of twine holding it together. Airy was not going to get points for presentation.
Once at Cassidy's room, she inhaled, exhaled and then knocked lightly at the door.
"Hey, Cassidy? Are you free?" It was always a little nervewracking to go to someone's room, unsure if someone else is in there. Airy was very comfortable with pretending that other stuff didn't happen in the castle, despite knowing the opposite was true.
Airy was wearing one of the dresses that she had commissioned by the fairies and a pair of simple brown boots. She had thought about asking for her wardrobe but what about getting her powers back? She was thinking a little to hard about it and, because of that, hadn't decided what she wanted to do yet.
Without any structure to the days apart from scheduled meal times, and without even the veil of any sort of responsibilities to dance around, Cassidy's life in the castle had become a cobbled-together 'routine' of sex, drugs, eating, bathing, and sleeping, dictated by whichever he was most in the mood for at the moment.
He'd been in the middle of a cat nap on his bed when he heard the knock, and was groggily considering not answering it before he heard Airy's voice.
"Just a sec," he called out through the door. He'd been sleeping naked, which was nothing she'd never seen before, but he did have some consideration for public spaces such as hallways. It took him less than a minute to pull on a pair of grey sweatpants and a zip-up hoodie, which he left hanging open over his chest.
He answered the door with a smile, under sleepy eyes and bed-tossed hair. "Hello, you. What's goin' on?"
Airy's mouth tugged into a half smile when she saw Cassidy open up the door. "I woke you up." She knew him well enough to know what activity she had interrupted and his bed hair was kind of cute.
"Sorry." She didn't look all that apologetic about waking him. "I brought you something. A present. Which actually makes me wonder if vampires celebrate Birthdays..." Airy paused, squinted, and then waved away the thought. "That isn't why I'm here, I mean I did bring you something but not because of an event. I saw it and thought of you and wanted to give it to you."
She flashed him a wider smile. "Mind if I step inside? I'll get out of your hair but only after you open it."
His smile has got a bit brighter as he’d listened. He might have pointed out how sweet she was, but he was afraid of sounding like a broken record.
“You’re no bother at all. C’mon in.” He pushed the door open farther and stepped back to give her space.
The room had more of a ‘lived-in’ sense now. If nothing else, the smattering of drug paraphernalia on the nightstand spoke to a certain level of comfort in the space. Cassidy moved to flop himself down on the bed, then sat up near the head of it, giving her plenty of space to join him.
“I still remember when my birthday is,” he mused. “Still keep track of the years, for what that’s worth... ‘cept I seem to have skipped over it in comin’ here. Goin’ clear from late summer to Christmastime. Throws a bloody wrench into me personal calendar.”
He eyed the package in her hands. “But we can call it a late birthday present, if you like. Or an early one. See? It’s very confusin’.”
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