The Hellfire Witch could be easy to read sometimes, Vanitas had learnt. For one, her resistance to food was non-existent. Her outburst was contained by the arrival of her plates and her mood brightened with each bite despite efforts in concealing it. He had no idea what was served in the restaurants of Altus, but figured the dishes must be different judging from Jeanne's reaction. The way she inspected everything presented before her, the sparkles in her eyes as she dug in, the smile which she dropped remembering Vanitas' presence – it was intriguing to watch.
"You can order some more if you want." Seeing as she cleaned her plates even before Vanitas was half-way through his, he wondered if the set was too small for her appetite.
"I'm good." She lied and for the first time, became conscious of how little the human was eating. He has been poking at the same bowl of salad which looked more like an entrée. Could humans function on so little?
Jeanne glanced around them. Mussels were being served on the table facing theirs, rich, creamy sauce accompanying the steamed shellfishes with fries on the side. She could also see a platter of assorted cheese and fruits, a basket of bread and some kind of stew.
"Is that all you're getting?" She blurted out before she could stop herself. The wellbeing of that human shouldn't be her concern, yet she was unable to resist voicing the question, bewildered by the size of his meal.
"I'm a light eater." He replied normally and just for an instant, Jeanne thought she was spared from his teases. "I see. You're worried about the quality of my blood!"
"I'm not!" She denied it at once which had no effect except broaden his cheeky grin. "It's… not good to begin with."
"Well, my memory must be faulted then."
He wasn't wrong. Jeanne hated to admit it, but nothing could compete with Vanitas' blood. It tasted as sweet as it smelled and that was saying a lot, considering all the decades Jeanne has lived through. How ironic it was for a person like him to have such amazing blood. The mere thought of it made her mouth water, she had to distract herself from it.
"Why did you make that offer anyway? You're a chasseur."
"Why did you take it then?" Vanitas used her own words against her, returning the question. "I'm a chasseur."
Because your blood was too appealing. She couldn't possibly give that as her answer.
"You said you were not like them." He continued, quoting her from that night on the rooftop. "What happened then? Are you simply an addict?"
"It's not like that. I…" Struggling to formulate her explanation, Jeanne clutched her dress out of anxiety. "It only started after I woke up. Sometimes the urge becomes overwhelming, but I've never let it overcome me like that, not ever."
"Did they know about it?" Jeanne nodded in response, so Vanitas waited for her to go on.
"It was why Lord Ruthven sent me on the case, to see if there is a connection, if there is something I can do about it." The discovery from her mission had turned out to be something unexpected, it was too early to conclude if it contributed to her goal. "They may put me back to sleep otherwise."
"And you're okay with that?" Although Vanitas has read her documents, he couldn't quite wrap his head around the fact that Jeanne has been walking the Earth earlier than some of his ancestors did. No one could tell her true age by her appearance, frozen in her early twenties which was, if he had the right to comment on, her Belle Époque. A flower in bloom, resembling her mark of possession.
Actually, Vanitas was sure he would be enchanted by the Witch no matter how old she was.
"I'm a bourreau. It doesn't matter what I think." Jeanne replied without thinking, as if she was reciting a line implanted in her mind. "I'm sure you chasseurs know how it works."
"I can't say I'm not offended." He tapped at the base of his neck, where her mark laid beneath the layers of fabric.
"You're different." It sounded almost like a compliment that she had to quickly add an insult. "The other chasseurs aren't half as weird as you."
"Glad to have a special place in your heart." It truly amazed Jeanne how he could turn her every word in his favour, to an extent she no longer bothered rolling her eyes. "You're you, Jeanne. I'm sure you have opinions of your own, no matter what it is."
"Plus, I'll be long gone by the time you open your eyes." Feeling that the topic might be a bit too serious, Vanitas ended it with another flirtatious remark so she wouldn't have to ponder his words.
She was right about the church. He, as a chasseur, was meant to follow what he was told without question, in the same way Jeanne has been executing her own kind on orders. Vanitas remembered the period of being a devoted follower, which was right after his father's death. Driven by rage and his desire for revenge, his judgement was clouded until he saw, with his own eyes, that humans could be as monstrous as vampires. Forced into the role of a bourreau from a young age, her seniors must have drilled into her the importance of obedience. The Senate had imposed a century of coma as punishment for Jeanne's failure in Gévaudan. If they didn't see improvement in Jeanne's condition, it would probably be another hundred years, if not more, before she would be allowed to wake again. Though the idea of time meant little to Jeanne, Vanitas who was an ordinary human wouldn't live to see the day.
"Induced sleep has its merits then." Realising that they had strayed too far from the subject, Jeanne frowned at the fact that she had unknowingly fallen for one of his tricks again.
"Ruthven?" Vanitas prompted.
"Yes, he gave me some medicine to help with it. It wasn't supposed to wear off so soon, but somehow…"
"A drug for suppressing bloodlust?" He interrupted, wondering if he'd misunderstood. "That's unheard of."
"I'll be fine as long as I keep taking it." Her tone was uncertain that it sounded more like she was trying to convince herself than Vanitas. "It won't happen again."
"Don't you worry, Jeanne. I won't hold a grudge against you for that." He assured, smoothing the furrows on her forehead. Despite her dislike for Vanitas, she hadn't meant to hurt him and it has been weighting on her for some time. "You can come back for more anytime."
"…Don't be absurd." Jeanne got up to make her leave, knowing it would be the end of her if she allowed herself to recall the taste of his blood. "I must return to Lord Ruthven, unless you have something of value to say."
"You know where to find me." And with that she departed, leaving Vanitas to enjoy his day off.