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"I've fucked poodles bigger than you," Conrad sneers, voice tight and low and only almost a little bit British.
The doorman (well, thug-in-front-of-a-door, specifically posted to menace them away) squawks, indignant at the obscenity, nearly bent backwards to try and escape the personal space of his much shorter antagonist, "Nathaniel's going to -"
Viciously, triumphantly, "Nathaniel liked to watch," Conrad insists, sneer flickering into a scornful grin as he squares his shoulders and pushes past – well, brushes past, really, because the doorman has stepped far, far out of his way.
Conrad snaps his navy coat collar straight, glancing over his shoulder at Worth, who for all his own hurry had lost track of his feet somewhere between the dog-fucking insult and the physical intimidation. Vampires scattered like cows, if what was charging at them was crazy-badger enough, and he knew that but he'd never actually seen it, and now that he'd seen it (Conrad in his monochrome fragility, bloodless and underfed and dressed like somebody's misplaced intern, marching down that sidewalk and straight at the taller, heavier doorman; an ill little badger bluffing the shit out of an unsuspecting bull) – now that Worth had seen that, he couldn't hardly find his feet.
Worth's steps slowed and Conrad had glanced over his shoulder and now Conrad's red eyes were on Worth, as an impatient glare piecing Worth head to toe. "While there's a moon in the sky," Conrad drawled, arms crossing, foot tapping. He wasn't the one wanted in that building – so he stood by the door and huffed at Worth's measuring, studious lope.
"Ey," Worth commented as he passed Conrad carefully, dumbstruck against his usual colorful retort. "Thanks, Mack." He flipped a coin at the doorman and pushed a long arm out in front of himself, gilded glass door smudging under his palm in a brief squeak as his legs carried him out of the bitter chill of the city night and into the warmly lit deception of City Hall.
Worth's feet stayed behind him, lost, freezing him there on the clean-swept ribbon of wide sidewalk, holding his breath back and pausing his busy worries for a moment when he might have been in love again.
x
Lucian Worth woke with a start, chest wrung hollow and breath sucking in full and fast as if he'd just broken the surface of deep waters. Hanna twitched his way, the looping scatter of his excited lecture hardly stumbling.
After leaving the plane Worth had folded up in the airport seating and passed promptly the fuck out, and for some inglorious but doubtlessly urgent reason Hanna had to meet them all at the airport and decided to babble three feet too close to Worth's magic hangover.
"So, uh," Hanna concluded, grin nervous, blushing harder every time his eyes swept Noah's way, "Is that everyone? I mean I guess Conrad said he was going to stay in Florida...?"
"He's in the lamp," Veser yawned from a seat of his own, shoulder slumped against Melody's, Tony sitting on the floor taking up a knee of each with her elbows.
Melody narrowed her eyes, "What do you mean, stay in Florida? We checked out of the motel."
Hanna's mouth pulled back and he glanced again at Noah, this time with unmasked suspicion. Worth watched, unblinking, eyelids heavy with ill tempered exhaustion as the wisps of heartache and amazement chased the coattails of leftover dreams. Hanna glanced Worth once-over, but answered them all easily enough. "He, yanno, on the phone. ImeanIguessIknow now that he was probably just complaining about the journey back, but I didn't see him come off the plane so -" A jittery shrug.
"He has an allergy to the daytime," Melody reminded loftily, the crumple of a bag of chips sounding from her lap.
Worth's throat worked and he coughed out some knowledge, "Nothin' some skinblock and a parasol couldn't solve, mind, but we didn't have no skinblock and airport security tends ta frown on weaponizable weather gear."
Hanna nods slowly to this, knowing Worth and capitulating his own ignorance on vampire limits to the validity of Worth's knowledge and experience (which Conrad never asked for and Doc Worth never presumed to offer).
Worth, feeling a midge recovered despite the strange heartache of the vivid dream, pulls himself to a rumpled stand. "Kids," he salutes in passing, hauling his bags up and stepping to take his leave.
"Wait, wait," Veser's protest cracks out, though he doesn't leave his seat. "That's it? We fly across the country to save you, and we don't get a thanks?"
Worth stills at Hanna's elbow, turning slowly on heel. What the hell, he was in a good enough mood for his gains - "Thanks." Worth affixes a cigarette to the corner of his mouth, a little nervous over the fact that he'd collapsed in the airport and Hanna's weirdo lonely-hearts club had all gathered around his chair similarly for as long a time as it had taken him to wake up and/or for Hanna to arrive. The wide lobby windows told a story of nightfall and Worth had some exposure ailments to attend, so he bumped Hanna with the heavy rattle of his canvas pack and wobbled forth under the weight of his duffelbag, only to pause at the airport's elevators in waiting.
From dry blue eyes (with jaundice-yellow stroma), Worth watches Hanna appeal to Noah (with a bright bursting voice on that shade of authoritative-but-still-more-a-suggestion-than-demand). Noah nods her beautiful regal head and steps aside to reveal Conrad, book in one hand and coffee in the other, luggage strapped over one shoulder - a hep tourist smothered in posh winter wear who'd just been pulled from the aisles of a bookstore.
Conrad blinks up from his book, looks around, bristles. "I haven't paid for this," he laments to Hanna, to Noah, waving the book. Tucking his empty hand against the crook of his elbow as Hanna takes the book with a laugh and inaudible reassurance, Conrad glances past the zombie's muddy shoulder to squint Worth's way.
Worth, from those ten paces off, lets his eyebrows rise, stare flicking pointedly to the neck scarf that cannot quite cover the entirety of the travelling hickey that had bruised Conrad from jaw to earlobe.
Joan Holloway curled her beautiful fucking hand in the crook of Conrad's bent elbow, and kept her doe eyes squared on Conrad with smug satisfaction. Worth stepped backwards into the open elevator, doors closing off the sight with a burring oiled rattle.
x
"Uh, for how long?" Veser rubbed the back of his neck, exhaling, visibly displeased.
"I'll wire the rent," Conrad explained emphatically, shoving his coffee over to Toni (whose thanks was sarcastic but who sipped the latte regardless). "Two weeks, tops. I haven't had a holiday in years, and I already called my studio, so," Conrad's arm flaps once against his side, a small shrug.
Veser can't stop looking away, and looking right back at, the bruise on Conrad's persons. Neither of them mention it. "Yer goin' to Egypt with that radical Genie babe, aren't you," he guesses mulishly, unsure who to be more jealous of. "Lots of sun in Egypt, Conrad. Lots."
"I didn't burst into flames at the theater," Conrad argues softly, tugging at the strap of his laptop case. It had definitely hurt, that short flash of sunlight, but apparently vampires could brave the day with nothing but a parasol and a pair of sunglasses (they did not do this, however, as more a give-away to the viewing public and any hunters therein). "I'll be back in two weeks," Conrad repeats. "You'll have the place to yourself. Stop being so dour."
"I'm just tired," Veser whines, slumping forward. "Thought we'd lost you back there. For a minute."
The words crumble out from between Conrad's thinned lips, "I'm fine." Then, from a more sympathetic friend-like tone, "You helped plenty, even if you couldn't be there."
Veser nodded, glancing at the small strange collective happening right there in the airport lobby, Hanna trading over some brass bangles that had been soldered with runic writing. "Why d'you think Hanna is in such a rush? I thought he'd be stoked ta meet a genie, maybe hang out a little bit at least." Veser sighs again, slowly, through his nose.
Conrad quirks an eyebrow but makes no comment, cheek pulling in as he bites it in contemplation. What was Hanna's urgency to see Noah from one plane to the next?
"And just keep them clean, no goat's blood or ash of the dead," Hanna explained evenly, fingers shaking a bit as he slid one of the bangles onto Noah's wrist. "You can put 'em on your ankles, too. There's four, so uh. Mix 'n match! Sorry about the color."
"You made these from another lamp?" Noah queried shakily, and every ear perked toward him/her in sympathy.
"Yes," Hanna answered firmly, jaw squaring. "So don't abuse your independence, or you will be feeling it."
"Harsh," Melody protested, sprawled in a chair, sneakered foot wagging, lazily (hungrily) watching Noah gain something like freedom.
"May I?" Noah turned to the zombie once two bangles were on each limb. The dead man handed her/him/them the lamp. Noah took the lamp, held it, felt its heft, then drew it to his stomach with a breath of relief and tears gathering in his eyes.
Conrad stood just as rapt as everyone else, but with an ever-present wrinkle of confusion. He had passed the time in the lamp being kissed by someone whom he was convinced was supposed to be his desire, and it hadn't been terrible but it hadn't been exactly fun, either. Kind of like a chore; he felt better having done it, certainly, but wouldn't mind if someone else took up his inexpert place in the task; and guilty besides for feeling that way because it wasn't every day a stranger made such eyes at him or even dared to put their hands where Noah had so easily and blithely put his (not to mention his mouth, which promised a few hundred years of practice at pleasing other people and if Conrad hadn't gone a little cross-eyed at that, because who wouldn't, he was dead but he wasn't dead).
Noah's glassy-eyed thanks passed over Hanna in the form of a hug, and Conrad felt his belly flop at the contrast of seeing the man he was ensorcelled to love being wrapped up in the man he was supposed to desire and for that heartbeat, Conrad was convinced.
Convinced that there was just something wrong with him - that he couldn't properly desire anyone and was even going so far as to defy magic itself by the grace of his broken-headed Issues. His thoughts were a litany of how many things in his own life there were that could just go get fuckt, could just be set out of his way for the fuckening that was his self-recrimination because oh god, oh no, he didn't even know what he wanted and when it was all spelled out for him and everything he was going to try and ruin it, because that's just what he did, and the Boggart had been damn nigh on pretty fucking correct so
So Conrad was fucking right off from his life for a while because that could all just. That mess. It could all just get fucked and fuck off and be put down and walked far, far away from because fuck that entirely.
Conrad WAS going to go on vacation and he WAS going to travel and see a different continent and survey historic art sites and he WAS going to bite strangers and make out with a persons of his desire and he WAS going to have a goddamn fantastic time doing all of it, despite the crippling fear of travelling alone, and the crippling fear of how sunny Egypt probably actually was (even though he could turn into a bat and be fine in the sunlight - that's how Adelaide had gotten into his apartment in the first place after all). Conrad was going to do all the things he was afraid of or disgusted by and he was determined to prove himself normal and capable of enjoying life, despite his mother's insistence that he was some emotionless psychopath only playing at life until his rage might overtake his senses and end in bloodshed presumably -
Conrad didn't get the urge or the chance to say goodbye, nodding at Veser as Noah stepped away from Hanna, then in front of him, and Conrad disappeared in the sweep. Noah bowed in thanks, bangles clanking musically, smile radiant, then stepped to the side of the zombie and was gone, only to reappear behind the gate security, then again out of sight to reappear further past the milling crowd for the flight to Chicago that would connect to take him and his lamp and its contents all the way back home.
Hanna tugged his cellphone out once Noah was out of sight, dialing Conrad.
"I haven't been gone five minutes," Conrad growled out, though his voice was warm and determined.
"Just be careful, dude. Djinni can be pretty, uhh. Jealous? And conniving. You need anything, you call me, okay? At the first sign, dude, I'm serious." A slow exhale as Conrad snorted 'yes' and scoffed 'goodbye' and hung up. Noah had produced Conrad's passport from his apartment, being a creature of space-time travel, to guarantee Conrad's independence at Hanna's insistence, but, Noah being a creature of space-time travel (not at all to be confused with just plain time travel, which didn'tfreakingexist ok) - Noah now had all the power in the world to put that passport back into Conrad's apartment and keep Conrad in Egypt presumably forever.
And, like, sure, Hanna wasn't going to deny Conrad if the guy really wanted to hang out with a wish-fulfillment demigod who seemed to genuinely dig him. One small thing was bothering Hanna, though, his detective senses tingling.
A calm eyebrow from Diogenes/Puscifer/Hale easily drew Hanna's worry through his lungs, and his reedy babble retook the attention of Veser, who had seen Mel and Toni off to a cab before wandering back to peruse the vending machines.
"It's just that," Hanna bit his lip, scowling at the airport terminal Noah (who, to Hanna, had been a round brown woman with a dusky Spanish accent and an ample bosom) had disappeared into. "I don't get the right kinda vibe from this situation," Hanna flapped his arms helplessly, appealing to Veser's shrug and Aaron/Miles/Deuteronomy's raised eyebrows. "Is Conrad mad at us? Did something happen? I didn't expect him to just up and leave; that just doesn't seem like his style, right?"
"There was an altercation," The dead man rasped woodenly. "Worth was facing a Boggart when I had to leave his side, and when Conrad came, the Boggart was dealt with." A bracing breath, "I don't imagine that was very pleasant for anyone involved. Conrad seemed listless, despite the victory."
Hanna's brow crumpled. "Hm," he chewed a knuckle, then stole a chip from Veser to nibble on that instead, studying the flecked cement of the terminal lobby. "Welp, nothing we can do about it now, if Conrad really wants to hang out with that guy." An aside, to Veser, "I mean I'm sure it'll be fine, Djinn aren't all that powerful. All they can do is take stuff from somewhere and move it around to build illusions of wealth and wish fulfillment. It's impossible for them to kill anyone, much less, er, influence their opinions, so it's not like Conrad is brainwashed out of character. Still though. I know you gotta agree. Weirdness."
Veser dug one fist into his hoodie pocket and shrugged, scowling. "Whatever, dude, we all saw the love-bite. Gonna put an ad out for a new roomy, like, yesterday." But then, inspired on their trudge toward the parking lot, Veser suddenly crumpled the chip bag in a startled fist. "Whoa whoa WHOA, you said 'guy'. Noah is a girl."
Hanna kept walking, forcing Veser to keep up. "To some people, yeah. Have you even been listening? Wish fulfillment."
"Yeah, but, even then Conrad would be hangin' out with that 'girl' not that 'g-" Veser stalled, lightbulb clattering to life. "Aw fer fuck's sake," he slapped the chips down on the parking lot blacktop. "I KNEW HE WAS LOOKIN' AT HER WEIRD," Veser laments, tearing at his hair. "Aw fuuuuuck," he whined.
"What even," Hanna ground out. "Calmdownjeeze! What's wrong?"
Veser tore his luggage from his shoulder to strangle it, then bash his forehead against it a few times. "Wasted fucking opportunities, that's what's wrong! Fucker lied to me!" Veser's teeth flashed in a snarl and he reshouldered his luggage with a vengeful heave. "Ooph." He glanced at Hanna and cackled, a mean noise. "I'll explain when you're older."
Hanna's chin stuck out under the weight of his scowl. "You'll have to explain my BOOT up your ass," he threatened without much heat, hanging back a step to shove at Veser's shoulder. "But if you're like, talking about how Conrad gets to hang out with the visage of a babe of his choosing? Or something? That's not the case, for him." Emphatically, "He's dead. He doesn't see Noah the way we do. He lives on a different frequency; that's why he can't show up on cameras, he lives between our light frequencies, and so does Noah. Sort of. So they - I mean, Conrad can see a lot of things we might not be able to. He can see Noah as Noah is, which I mean, that explains why Noah might want to, er, spend some time. With a vampire. Can't imagine it's too great, not wearing your own face."
Veser took shelter under the flimsy blue plastic of the bus stop overhang, studying Hanna through the roll of his breath in the dark winter air. "That why Conrad left us with a hickey on its own fucking zipcode."
Hanna shrugs. "I guess that's what's bothering me. Maybe, I mean, it's not a stretch to imagine - maybe Conrad kinda likes him back?" But something was still out of place, something that would take Hanna the greater part of a month to come around to finding out, and by then Conrad would have already rescued himself.
Veser, in the meanwhile, was extremely put out. "What. Just like that."
Hanna shrugged a shoulder. "Maybe Noah's real face is really nice? Maybe they read the same books? Maybe Conrad just wanted an excuse to leave stateside for a while, and Noah needed some help learning the ropes of modern living?" (This last, the actual excuse Conrad had given).
Veser's mood tanked ever further and he buried his chin in his hoodie collar to grumble. "Jesas. Doc Worth was right."
"Doc Worth is usually almost always right," Hanna agreed sagely, nodding. "But uh, what do you mean?"
Woodenly, abstractly, remembering a conversation at a riverbank, an implication that had been loaded and uncomfortable, "Conrad's afraid of frogs." Veser scrubs his face, groaning, a little heartsick. "And it's none of our fucking business."
