Gym leader

Lavender Heights 
shortly after Pokemon raid

Beauregard was feeling pissy. He had a hunch, but one he could not entirely confirm until Raziyya returned from her little tour. It was one he could not be angry with her for, of course, because he'd sent her on it.

But that did not mean he had to like it.

Pacing some little circle at the end of the block, moving away from that dreadful club for the sake of his sanity, Beauregard waited.

She'd return to him eventually, following the feeling of his natural leader magnetism. Her mood somewhat pleasant for the parting, but it wasn't long before he was in her range and she had more than a sense that he was less than happy.

So she rose a brow and waited for him to tell her what that was.

He'd been expecting a bat, truthfully, and found almost some disappointment that she wasn't one. A thought he would have been better off not sharing for a variety of reasons, but it was too late for that now.

"Tell me everything, then," he said, staring at her as if he could read the thoughts out of her head.

Regrettably, she'd been given that power, not him.


"At first I found her somewhat boring. Eventually she managed to think about having heard about you from whatever vampire it was that hates all men. I think that is Sayed's friend."

A soft eyeroll.

"They don't seem to know much about you. Apparently the other woman, Pandora, was it? Simply avoids you for being a man. She was interested in loitering, and I told her she could not if she did not join the clutch. She took it about as well as any would. I also suggested her into keeping all information of the clutch to herself."

That was, in fact, everything.

A vampire that hated all men, but was friends with a man. Perhaps Sayed had been castrated. Avoiding someone for having a cock was a silly thing. Perhaps she'd had poor luck dating for some centuries.

Beauregard listened as she continued. And of course, the woman did not want to join the course. Of course, because-

"She told the boy to move out of town. Poaching cunt," he said with a twitch of his upper lip. "I should have ashed her but he was vague enough that I thought I was being paranoid."

Catrina and Pandora, the frigid duo, apparently. He huffed a sigh, staring off toward the sound of thumping music down the block.

Oh dear.

"I wonder if she knew to be guarded; her thoughts were very bland and boring most of the time. When I asked why she was here, she said it was to see if any of us would 'show face.'"

A sigh.

"I have her number, if you wish to entertain yourself with her ashes."

"Show face." Beauregard wondered if he would feel better if he made snarling noises. Likely not.

"If you can convince her to come back. Or meet us. But if she has half a brain, she'll never respond to you."

Jaw set, he prodded idly at his teeth with his tongue behind his frown.

"You should be a bat," he decided after a moment longer, then held out a hand with all the petty expectation of a spoiled child.

She might have taken him up on that challenge, but he made a demand she could not ignore. Angry, angry Dominus. She was here to obey, in any case, and who was she to not find fondness in being told to go into her animal form for him.

"Of course."

Hand held out, Raziyya placed hers in his, and then a second later was hanging by her thumb hook from his hand.

She'd pull herself into his palm if he'd allow it, blinking up at him, wondering if the change soothed.

It did, in fact, soothe. Though they were in a public space, and so he would have to be marginally mindful for all that he half yearned for someone to spot him and make a comment so Beauregard could have some stupid excuse for violence.

There was a desire to throw her in the air and catch her, but he largely knew better.

He'd flown here, of course, and so there was no car to walk back to. But he could walk in the direction of his home for a few blocks until he felt less like crushing something.

"You were wise to suggest her into privacy," he said, the thumb of the hand that held her moving to roughly stroke her head. Beauregard carried her near chest level.

"She avoided my eyes like I'd gouge them out if they met."

She did appreciate the closeness, settling comfortably. The head strokes were met with a slightly lowered and angled head, keeping her eyes out of the fray.

Praise was something just about anyone would appreciate. Raziyya was no different. "Mm, you used to do the same," she commented. "I'm glad I was able to find her gaze, though. Knowing she had other motives and was somehow able to hide them... Or perhaps her associate suggested her from thinking of such things."

"Because I didn't trust you as far as I could throw you," he huffed. How far could he throw a bat? He had a sense it would be a bit like trying to throw a piece of paper. Even with tremendous strength, it would flutter and fall.

He kindly would not throw her, pondering that Catrina may have been suggested out of sharing information even in thought. It was a good idea, though he wondered how it worked. Did the woman simply forget about it while in the presence of others? How could information in thought be hidden without losing the knowledge of it entirely?

"What do you do to feel better when you are very irritated?"

The stroking of her ratty head continued, and Beauregard was not oblivious to the picture of some snarling villain petting a cat to soothe.

Raziyya was hurt by the question of trust. She pushed for very theatrically hurt feelings for him to feel because his words were so very hurtful.

"Depends on the cause. In this case, I could drain someone, I think. Or go for a fight with someone who wouldn't break at the first punch."

Beauregard ignored the hurt with the same skillfulness he was currently ignoring nearly everything but himself.

Fighting sounded appealing exactly up until the point he would have to take a hit, and then he was certain his jaw would unhinge and his manicure would be wasted. (Nails never reverted exactly the same.)

"Time to find a drunk to strangle, I suppose," he said with a sigh, then lifted her to offer his shoulder.

Maybe it would feel nicer if she watched.

He was getting fatter.

Raziyya would happily take his shoulder and watch him choke someone out to his heart's content nonetheless.

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