Payin' for it is straightforward when you don't already got yourself a significant other, lad. If you're still handin' over money to hookers solely 'cause you're too afraid to speak to your gentlefella-- [Beat.] or lady... then you're a straight up coward, or even worse, you're bein' dishonest with 'em.
[He's waving vaguely towards the bartender for another drink, gesturing to Tate in case he decides he does want to push that limit. Cass is only just getting started on his booze and drugs intake for the day.]
Thing about there being two of yeh, is that there's always gonna be a some compromise, there. So what if he ain't so into it, there's gonna be kinky shite he might like to try that you ain't so into. ... Or her.
No, no you don't, can't get outta this that easy, lad.
[Not that he can force Tate to stay, but he likes to cling on metaphorically when he can.]
This is good. This is the shite you gotta let out now, all that frustration and awkwardness, and go back to your man or woman with a clear head and a purpose to discuss this sorta stuff. C'mon, pretend I'm them and you're gonna ask me 'bout this interest in doms.
[He says the word like he's turning it over bit by bit, like it's the first time he's hearing it. Slowly his brows furrow downwards.]
No. I don't like that at all.
[Not quite offended but bordering on it.]
Wasn't tryna talk around anythin', who you do is your business, lad, and no one else's. Maybe you'd do well at rememberin' that next time you start up with that defensiveness.
[A roll of his eyes as he manages to down the rest of his current drink, and moves to stand as well.]
Hey! C'mon now. You asked me about this shite, I'm just tryna help you out here, lad. Now sit your arse down and have another drink with me, and we'll talk about whatever damn thing you want.
[And then half mumbled as he slowly lowers himself back onto the stool:] Christ, maybe next time we need to get you stoned instead, eh?
[Yeah, yeah, he gets it, Tate is a moody teen, how original Tate is with his huffy little sighs. Cass just does a fine job of ignoring the attitude, but the question is less easy to ignore. Shoulda seen that one coming.]
Enough... why?
[It's a weird thing to ask, but he assumes it may just be for the pure sake of edginess.]
Know what I feel? I feel like you're just tryna provoke me for the feckin' sake of it, lad. This bitter loner act is cute and all, real edgy teen shite, but it'll get old real fast.
[Cassidy seems more frustrated than angry, his new bottle of whiskey delivered just in time for his to snatch at it and swig. Why must everything he likes try and hurt him?]
I get the feelin' you weren't all that great at makin' friends and keepin' 'em.
[A sigh, like he hasn't heard that a million times before.]
Most of 'em usually are. Anti-vampire propaganda for the most part. No better way to scare the masses than tell 'em what they should fear are a buncha murderin' bloodsuckers.
And nah, lad, no such luck. We didn't get catered to, we got hunted. Most times I just got meself some donor blood, failin' that, wildlife would do in a pinch. Doesn't have to be human to keep us goin'.
Nothin' like that. Got bit by some crazy hag, she got shot 'fore she could finish me off, and I fell in a river. Woke up later confused as shite. Not really all that excitin', I'm afraid, lad.
[And yet Tate is one of the few to hear the tale. Reminiscing about the past isn't really a thing Cass does.]
[Another swig of his drink, and then a vaguely impressed sort of nod.]
Good guess there, lad.
[And for a moment his eyes flicker upwards as he tries to dredge some old ass memories from the back of his mind. He can math.]
Nineteeeen... twenty seven. Yeah. Was thirty by then, good age to get bit, I reckon. Can you imagine lookin' under twenty one for an eternity? Christ, it'd make life a pain in the arse.
[Yup, who on earth would wanna spend a long ass time stuck as a teen? Truly the worst.]
Left it behind. Everyone thought I was dead anyway.
[Verging on melancholy, but they're some old ass memories that he's had time to come to terms with. Sort of. As well as an emotional boi like him can.]
Got on a boat to America, starry eyed at the Statue of Liberty, the usual old Irish immigrant shite.
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[He's waving vaguely towards the bartender for another drink, gesturing to Tate in case he decides he does want to push that limit. Cass is only just getting started on his booze and drugs intake for the day.]
Thing about there being two of yeh, is that there's always gonna be a some compromise, there. So what if he ain't so into it, there's gonna be kinky shite he might like to try that you ain't so into. ... Or her.
no subject
[Not that he can force Tate to stay, but he likes to cling on metaphorically when he can.]
This is good. This is the shite you gotta let out now, all that frustration and awkwardness, and go back to your man or woman with a clear head and a purpose to discuss this sorta stuff. C'mon, pretend I'm them and you're gonna ask me 'bout this interest in doms.
no subject
[He says the word like he's turning it over bit by bit, like it's the first time he's hearing it. Slowly his brows furrow downwards.]
No. I don't like that at all.
[Not quite offended but bordering on it.]
Wasn't tryna talk around anythin', who you do is your business, lad, and no one else's. Maybe you'd do well at rememberin' that next time you start up with that defensiveness.
no subject
Hey! C'mon now. You asked me about this shite, I'm just tryna help you out here, lad. Now sit your arse down and have another drink with me, and we'll talk about whatever damn thing you want.
[And then half mumbled as he slowly lowers himself back onto the stool:] Christ, maybe next time we need to get you stoned instead, eh?
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Enough... why?
[It's a weird thing to ask, but he assumes it may just be for the pure sake of edginess.]
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[Cassidy seems more frustrated than angry, his new bottle of whiskey delivered just in time for his to snatch at it and swig. Why must everything he likes try and hurt him?]
I get the feelin' you weren't all that great at makin' friends and keepin' 'em.
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You think it's cool to be talkin' about murder, eh? Is that it?
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I don't do that sorta shite, lad. I'll protect me and mine, but I don't go out feastin' on folk, if that's what you're hintin' at.
[Maybe a few slip ups in his early vampire days, but he doesn't need to be mentioning that. We all make mistakes.]
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[A sigh, like he hasn't heard that a million times before.]
Most of 'em usually are. Anti-vampire propaganda for the most part. No better way to scare the masses than tell 'em what they should fear are a buncha murderin' bloodsuckers.
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[Very informative, there.]
And nah, lad, no such luck. We didn't get catered to, we got hunted. Most times I just got meself some donor blood, failin' that, wildlife would do in a pinch. Doesn't have to be human to keep us goin'.
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[And yet Tate is one of the few to hear the tale. Reminiscing about the past isn't really a thing Cass does.]
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Good guess there, lad.
[And for a moment his eyes flicker upwards as he tries to dredge some old ass memories from the back of his mind. He can math.]
Nineteeeen... twenty seven. Yeah. Was thirty by then, good age to get bit, I reckon. Can you imagine lookin' under twenty one for an eternity? Christ, it'd make life a pain in the arse.
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Left it behind. Everyone thought I was dead anyway.
[Verging on melancholy, but they're some old ass memories that he's had time to come to terms with. Sort of. As well as an emotional boi like him can.]
Got on a boat to America, starry eyed at the Statue of Liberty, the usual old Irish immigrant shite.
(no subject)