A/N: This is a companion piece for "The Dead Diva Sings" from the original character Viviane's perspective. This has huge spoilers for the other piece, so read it first. But this story has a lot of background for Viviane and her motives. It started as a way to flesh Viviane out as Sookie sees her, but Viviane practically begged for her own marquee. She is the original diva, after all.

The vampire with the chestnut locks drummed her polished raspberry nails on the armrest of the Anubis Airlines seat.

"John, how long is this flight?" Viviane was anxious to see Eric and his bar. But she was more interested in meeting his pair of blondes. She could feel the connection really kick in the closer she got to Shreveport. "What time is the landing?"

"Less than an hour. We land about midnight." John Quinn, her day man and a weretiger, was typing something into his phone.

"I should've flown myself." Viviane straightened her emerald green, high-waist pencil skirt and checked the wrap of the black top she'd tucked in – nothing hanging out. Good. "Where is that you're spending your days off?"

"Caddo Lake on the Texas side. It's the full moon in two nights."

Viviane glanced out the plane's window. "So it will be. Good thing I won't need you to protect me from anything." She giggled. Each knew she hardly needed protection from anything or anyone.

"A rental is waiting for me at the airfield." John slid his phone in his suit coat.

Viviane grinned. "So are you even going to get off the plane until I'm long gone?"

"Are you calling me a coward?" John raised an eyebrow at the vampire.

She burst into giggles. "Don't worry, John. I'll save you from the big, bad Viking. How mad could he really be at you still? He won; he got the girl. So it's over." It amused her that John was taking Eric's edict so seriously. She knew in reality Eric would rip him limb from limb if it came to it, and she'd help him do it if the cause was Sookie Stackhouse.

John wasn't smiling. "I am not afraid of him. But I do not wish to battle him at this time."

Viviane smirked knowingly. "What did you think of the Vogue writer? She's no Carrie Bradshaw. Did you see her shoes?" She was rather unimpressed with the journalist the fashion magazine sent to follow her around Las Vegas and on her trip to New Orleans.

"I was not looking at her shoes. I was watching Victor and carrying your purse."

She couldn't help the smirk. His hands were often bigger than her evening bags, but he was useful. John was smart and could be plenty devious with her as she circumvented Felipe's and Victor's bullshit. Plus, her compact size always made her a target – not that she couldn't handle it – and a large, strong man was a delicious deterrent.

Viviane always had called him John from the time he was teenager and the unfortunate incident with his mother. She'd been working in the state where it'd happened, but she hadn't sworn fealty to anyone, so she'd been left unable to help him.

It was a shame what his life had become. He'd once been young and peaceful. His anger problems got him in the current mess with vampires as they always did.

She liked him enough to take him on when she needed a replacement day man after her day woman Cynthia went on extended maternity leave to have her two-bite taco human. Admittedly, the baby was rather adorable, and Viviane enjoyed holding her and cooing at her.

Viviane liked babies enough – they can't hurt anyone, their skin is very soft, and in the past holding one helped her pass for human. She'd even glamoured permanent homes for a few orphans when she liked one.

John went back to the Times-Picayune he'd bought at the airport. For once, he was reading the news section instead of sports.

Viviane slipped into downtime until the plane began its descent. Eric was waiting for her at the airfield – she could feel him.

Tapping her high-heel-clad foot impatiently, Viviane wanted to fly through the plane's door when the open was wide enough, but she hadn't been a child in 1,100 years, so she waited.

Eric leaned against his red Corvette. She couldn't figure out owning a car with only two seats that ate so much gas – it was just impractical. But he liked it and spoke of it as if it was a product of his loins, and she didn't have to deal with it on a daily basis. She hated to admit it, but it was sort of sleek and sexy, like Eric.

She forced herself walk at a human pace. Viviane wanted nothing more than to throw herself into his arms, but the last thing she needed was John knowing how close she really was to Eric.

John finally caught up with the two bags of personal effects. Eric growled under his breath.

"Northman."

"Tiger."

Both stood there in a staring contest – John holding her bags, and Eric just looking at John. Viviane sighed and started to grab her bags and take them to the trunk.

"Men. I guess chivalry really is finally dead." She'd wrested one bag from John when Eric broke his gaze.

"Tiger, you are going to let a woman handle her bags?" He shook his head while taking both bags and placing them carefully into his small trunk.

Viviane couldn't hide her giggle at Eric for having to best John. "John, just drop my trunk off at the club. Do you know where it is?"

John nodded and took off for his bags and rental car.

"He has 30 minutes to get out of my area," Eric growled.

"Eric, he is leaving. I can't handle training another day man, and John is surprisingly good at it." Viviane glanced around to see whether John remained in sight; he wasn't. She promptly threw her arms around Eric's waist. "Oh Eric, I have missed you."