He refused to call it 'passing out'.
It was well past midnight when he returned to the chasseurs. Worn out from the events of the night, his consciousness slipped away the second he fell into one of the infirmary's beds, not bothering a change of clothes or hitting the shower. Sleeping so soundly that he did not wake to the sound of someone entering the ward, he was surprised to find a bag of medical supplies sitting on the table as he untangled the blanket wrapped around him.
"Morning." The doctor on duty greeted him as he drew the curtains granting him privacy. "I rarely see you like that. Rough fight?"
"Not really." Vanitas yawned and stretched his arms, taking it as a good sign his muscles were not aching all over. To be honest, he slept better than usual thanks to the remains of chemicals from Jeanne's bite, but he could hardly tell others that.
"Your captain dropped by and left this for you." He gestured to a basket waiting on his desk, to which Vanitas frowned upon. Since when did Olivier started sending him gifts?
Picking at the corner of the piece of cloth covering the basket, he revealed it to be a selection of seasonal fruits along with a get-well-soon card. A huge heart was drawn and scrabbled with a signature of the sender.
"Right." Vanitas threw Roland's card into the bin without giving it a second look. The fruits, though, were innocent so he rescued an apple from it. "Keep the rest."
Bringing along the bag of borrowed tools, he left without being inspected. When the infirmary was short on manpower a few years ago, Vanitas was called in as support. He was therefore on good terms with the staff there that they would let him be, knowing he'd prefer and was capable of tending to his own injuries.
Occasionally he'd use it as a hideout, the doctors were more than happy to lend him their books and were constantly persuading him to pursue the studies seriously.
Shutting the door of his chambers, he spread the supplies on his bed and decided to prioritise the shower. The worst he got from the night would probably be bruises and cuts, overall casualty of the unit couldn't be high considering he met no one on his way out.
After dumping his clothes aside for laundry, he stood under the water, reflecting on the events which already seemed distant. The plan of investigating the curse bearer went awry due to his little incident with Jeanne, meaning he would have to ask Roland about findings, if any. Jeanne, after getting her fill, regained her senses and should be back in Altus by now.
A smile formed on Vanitas' face as he brought up memories of her. Jeanne had jumped off him once she was herself again, her cheeks the colour of tomatoes from both rage and embarrassment. Never had he imagined the Hellfire Witch to be capable of making such expressions, just like the night at the party. He could predict her reaction the next time they meet, ideally under better circumstances.
His stomach growled all of a sudden, demanding nutrition intake for the body to produce blood it lost. He should opt for a larger portion, if not desserts as well, for quicker recovery. Oysters, freshly baked croissants, crepes: Vanitas found himself making a list of food he wanted to have for lunch, something he didn't do often.
Soon, he promised, stepping out of the bath and wiping himself dry with a towel. As he got dressed, he was relieved to confirm low possibility of new scars. The only wound he had to worry about, then, was the one left by Jeanne. He had specifically asked her not to drink from his neck to avoid being seen, and though she obeyed, it felt to be positioned closer than he would have liked.
He cleaned the fogged mirror with his towel, his eyes bugging out from what he found in it.
On his right shoulder, two puncture wounds formed from Jeanne's bite, strangely faded as if it happened weeks ago. But that was not what shocked him most.
A rose bloomed overnight, right over the wounds.
A mark of possession.
He traced the outline of it with his fingertips, half expecting the skin there to be rough, or irritated, or feel foreign. It didn't. He rubbed it with his thumb, waiting for the red to wear off. It didn't.
It was just... there. Jeanne's mark.
Olivier was so going to kill him when he found out.
How did this happen anyway? He knew how it works in theory, of course, a mark is formed on whom a vampire feeds on and willingly concedes a portion of power. Vanitas doubted Jeanne had any intent of claiming him her own.
It was there by pure accident, then. Maybe it was karma, having his joke backfired.
He caressed the tiny flower planted on him again. The idea of being someone's territory amused him, he took satisfaction in the fact that a part of him wasn't owned by the church. Not that he enjoyed the idea of being someone's property, he merely liked the irony. A chasseur dedicated to follow God's path, marked by a heretic.
With his stomach protesting loudly, he put on a random shirt and feasted on the only thing he got - the apple from Roland's basket. The sugar content in it should be able to keep him functioning for a while.
Someone knocked at his door.
He took another bite, settling down on his bed and waited.
The person outside knocked more forcefully.
"I know you're discharged, Vanitas. Now open this damned door."
Death has come for him, earlier than expected.
"It's unlocked." He replied, bracing himself for Olivier's rage.
"Sick, huh? I'm not buying it, regardless of what Roland said – " He was shouting even before the door swung opened, his anger subsiding as he took note of Jeanne's rose.
Eyes wide, Olivier turned around in denial, shutting the door behind him. Vanitas munched on his apple, considering locking the door for good.
"Tell me that's a tattoo you sneaked out to get last night by calling sick." He re-entered the room with a troubled expression.
"Well, I guess it's a type of tattoo..." Vanitas started, causing Olivier to sigh and throw his hands back.
"What did I tell you about 'keeping your head down'?" He roared, recovering from shock. "You know their ways. They'll purge you for tyranny, tie you down to a bed - "
"Then what?" Vanitas asked coldly. "I don't have family they can use as pawns. They can only try getting to me, which I assure you won't be easy."
Olivier was speechless for an entire minute as Vanitas held his eyes, daring him to say something in counter.
"You're just like Roland, in some way."