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It's crab cakes. It's always crab cakes. The flutes of champagne may be near overflowing, but it's the crab cakes that can really tell you if the party is good.
The flaky, easy melt in your mouth kind of flavor said it all. Simon was really in the big leagues. No one needed to tell that, of course, but it was just another affirmation that these people and their no kill shelter event could have just fixed the problem. Instead, this party was happening.
Those small hairs on the back of the neck were the first alert though. Eyes on him. Not just casually taking him in, but studying him. Those eyes were behind a pair of large glasses attached to a handsome nerdy man in an underspoken grey suit.
He only had a glass in hand. His gaze didn't waiver when caught staring. Only the slightest of nods.
Despite the crab cakes actually be damn good, Simon still managed to have a judgemental expression on his face. Granted, he always had a judgemental look on his face. There's very, very little in the world that truly matches up to expectations.
Still, he nibbles at the crab cakes idly, taking a break from the schmoozing. He'd been schmoozing all night. Granted, most people only tolerated that uneasy feeling of being around him because of his money and name. Simon didn't really give a shit, though. He only cared about their money and name too. It's how the game works.
Simon is dressed impeccably, his one of a kind suit tailored to his body. No glasses today, a dark suit that has an emerald tint in the right light, and his hair neatly combed back:
He looks up to meet the man's eyes, staring with that eerie gaze that felt like it'd swallow you whole in all the least pleasant of ways. Jasper was given a slow look over, still ever so judging, before Simon's chin lifted in the faintest of acknowledgement.
The Kindred kept the glass in hand, not moving towards Simon just yet. Those eyes took in every detail - the clothes, his manicure, his posture, the way he wore anger and judgment as an armor around him. Those damn pretty eyes let him see this study, this near invasive way of cataloguing every detail, but in the end...
His eyes met. This younger man held this dangerous gaze and if one were particularly sensitive, it was as if he was learning everything about him in that gaze. He was being undressed, but it wasn't the body being bared to the other, but rather the soul.
Simon listens to the soft whispers of the mouth in the back of his head, hidden underneath his carefully combed hair. He watches Jasper as he watches Simon, the eye contact lingering for several seconds before he slowly lifts the rest of the crab cake to finish off.
Then the plate is shoved off to a passing servant without even sparing a glance to them, and Simon turns to walk confidently towards Jasper.
The Kindred stayed placed on the wall. If he were a Daeva, he'd probably draw close. A Ventrue, meet him in the middle. But he was a Mekhet. He studied every step along the way. It waivered between a sexualized feeling, a microscope feeling, and disinterested affectation as if just to watch what he did when he got there.
The glass was set down on a passing server's tray without even a glance in their direction. Someone else had been here long enough to master the ins and outs of that.
"Good evening," stated the quiet wallflower when Simon got into range.
"Good evening," Simon replies. His voice is a curt, sharp thing. At times a scalpel, capable of the intricate delicacy needed to carve deep and see what is inside of someone, or a cold skewer straight to the gut. Either way, meant to draw blood.
He holds out his hand to the other man. "Simon Dubois."
"A pleasure," replies the mirthless one as he took that hand in his own, a soft squeeze from a weaker palm. Warm in that sparing touch, and lingering until Simon pulled away. "Jasper Wright."
Simon's was proper, confident, well practiced--but not overly strong. It didn't linger long before Simon pulls his hand back.
After a beat pause, "Not a name I'm familiar with," he notes with a look that might as well say what the hell are you doing here?
"I'd expect not, no," agrees Jasper with a press up on his glasses as he looks over the other. The dangling hint of knowledge left just beyond the other's grasp maddening in its own right.
"What is it you do, Simon?"
"I'm a collector and dealer," Simon replies, snagging a glass of champagne from a passing server's tray. It's lifted and sipped from before he continues. "Antiquities, mostly. Rare historical artifacts."
"Meaning those touched by personal history or broader appeal history?" asks the Kindred with some edge to it, apparently ready to let this answer hang the man if it came wrong. "Do you have a preferred era?"
"Depends on who the personal history belongs to, but potentially both." Another sip of champagne, not looking terribly concerned about being hung or not. "For business, or personal taste?"
"Yes," replies Jasper with some amusement to his tone as he continues to study the other.
"Whatever sells best," he replies bluntly. "The Classical Era is always popular. Everyone wants to liken themselves to Emperors and Ceasars." Simon glances around the rest of those gathered at the party briefly, as if his attention might be stolen away at any moment--but he does look back towards Jasper. "My tastes, however, vary. Currently I have been reading about the Rajput Period."
"The 16th century in mostly Norther India, yes? Often known for their particular brand of scimitar and notable for their seclusion of their women, which made a number of unique styles of painting. Tell me, are you interested more in the painting or in the weaponry? I imagine either could do with a bit more attention, but I expect the weaponry might sell more here. The oldest money would've identified with the Brits over the Punjabi," remarks the well-read Kindred.
A brow twitches upwards, just slightly. The smallest hints of approval--maybe even being impressed.
"Correct, yes. And it depends on the collector. Weaponry is very popular, but finding high quality paintings in good condition is rarer." Which seems to be a personal preference for himself, as well. The rarer, the more treasured. "I would choose the paintings, though I wouldn't turn down the opportunity to own a well preserved royal scimitar. I also find the architecture from that time fascinating. The temples are magnificent."
"I can't say I've ever been. The furthest East I've gone is New York, and the furthest West has been the Mississippi," says Jasper with a little sigh. "As much as I can appreciate historical artifacts, I can only imagine the sorts of things they'll be saying about this period in five hundred years."
Oh no. There's that judging look again. Someone who isn't well traveled? Tsk, tsk. Another siiiip. "That is a shame," he replies. Then lets out a soft snort. "Truly horrendous things, I'm sure. People of today have lost their sense of class."
"Have they now?" asks Jasper with yet more amusement. "Tell you what. How about you and I go see the sorts of things one might've done around the time of say the turn of the century, 1800? See how differently the classes truly were."
"And how do you suggest we do that?"
"Only do the things that they could do in such an age - ditch the electronics, walk the streets, avoid the modern trappings, and engage in discourse or simply getting to know one another," suggests Jasper. "Though perhaps another time. Clearly you're quite enthralled with the festivities."
Simon stares at him for a long moment, then downs the rest of the champagne. "Very well." And just like that, he's made up his mind and everything else is swept aside as beneath him. The glass is handed off to a servant and he turns to start walking for the door.
Jasper seems delighted by this, moving then to make his way not to the elevator, but to a set of stairs to make their way down. No goodbyes given to anyone. "Are you formally educated, Simon?" he asks before, after a moment's study, offering out his arm at the top of the stairs to escort the 'older' man properly.
Alas, they end up not being completely alone. A tall, broadly built man in a far more understated (but still tailored) suit slips out from somewhere in the crowd and falls into step behind them. Clearly some manner of personal bodyguard. Simon completely ignores him like he's not even there. But the guard keeps a polite distance, giving the illusion of privacy--except when in the elevator. That part is perhaps a little more awkward.
"I am." Simon eyes the offered arm a moment, as if checking to make sure Jasper's arm wasn't covered in some hidden muck--but then coils his around it to hold.
That's fine. They avoid elevators - which existed but weren't terribly common at the time they're working on. When the warm fingers come across Simon's arm, it's hard to ignore the strange quirk of how overly long they are, and quite thin.
"What sort of study did you pursue? The classics, clearly, but was there a unique drive for you in your pursuits?"
Simon glances down at the long fingers, then focuses on taking in their surroundings as they head down the stairs of the no doubt luxurious building--where ever they are. "I double majored in Business and History. The latter was my passion, though. Didn't exactly set out to be a historian, but I took enough classes in it that I figured I might as well go on to get the degree. But it was, at the time, just a hobby." Because Daddy paid the bills back then, so who gave a shit about having a real career.
"It's good to be able to pursue a passion. We can only hope that such an opportunity presents itself to those who come after us." Jasper ignores the wall art as they go, making more time and invitation to pull in, particularly when he held open the door. "Tell me, do you have any other passions?"
He allows Jasper to hold open the door for him, passing through it and taking a breath of air once outside. But he pauses then, willing to let Jasper lead. "Work and family take up a great deal of my time. But I do, yes. I have recently been learning how to fly a helicopter."
"Interesting. A flying contraption," says Jasper with a completely straight face. "Whatever brought that about?"
"Bored, mostly. I've flown around plenty in my life. I thought it might be interesting to try it out for myself. It is far more interesting to have your own life in your hands while soaring around."
"You find yourself often not quite feeling truly alive?" asks Jasper. While he doesn't look towards the bodyguard, he's careful to keep them at a comfortable pace to not loose them.
"Don't you?" Simon challenges with a sideways look.
"I find ways to feel alive. Often with the company of a handsome intellectual or an exciting rapscallion. I'm versatile in that way." Jasper continues walking along. "Perhaps you could give it a try. That one following behind us is somewhat strapping."
Simon doesn't even bother looking back at the guard, giving Jasper a dry look. "I don't sleep with my employees."
"Employee? I assumed he was your suitor," he says dryly. "My mistake."
Now he just looks offended. "You greatly underestimate my expectations for acceptable partners, it seems."
"Then describe such a suitor to me," suggests Jasper. "Tell me of the kind of person who can make you turn to poetry to express your love. To write to across the great expanses - this is, in fact, the 1800s as well."
He laughs at that, shaking his head. "I'm afraid I don't have an answer for you. No one has made me feel like that." He waves a hand dismissively. "Love is hardly the issue, though."
"Never?" asks Jasper with a raised brow. "You've surely missed out. Still, what is the issue?"
"I need a partner who compliments my life style," Simon said, ever so matter of factly. Practical. "Someone of good background. Motivated. Intelligent. Who understands the game and how to win it."
"Hm. So you're involved in the game, hm?"
"I suppose wanting to meet an equal is a drive many have. I prefer to find someone who challenges me, someone with whom I can grow."
"How is it you wish for yourself to grow?" he asks.
"In all ways," says Jasper with a nod. "Most recently, I've been watching these Youtube videos on penetration. It's had me playing a lot with locks. It's delightful to find yourself in possession of a new skill... or a new item to consider."
"....." Simon gives him a side-ways look at the word penetration, but then it seems to click into place what he means. "Ah. I suppose that would be... interesting."
"I admit, the penetration is less new to me than some things. I was once involved with a man who did such things regularly. I picked up the hobby." The wax figurine gets pulled from Jasper's jacket pocket as if it had materialized there to openly look at it as they walked. "This, however, might be quite the hobby. Both a handicraft and... more?"
The man studies Simon's expression as the moment dawns on the other.
Simon glances to the--honestly creepy as fuck--wax figurine, his expression instantly souring. He pulls free from Jasper's arm, holding out his hand. "Give that back."
"Tell me about it," counters Jasper even as he's holding it out. "It's not often that one carries around occult paraphernalia with them."
Simon takes it back from him, running his thumb along the weird brownish-red wax before tucking it back away into the inside of his jacket. He eyes Jasper a moment. "How are you so sure it's occult paraphernalia?"
"I've seen any movie from the sixties to now," retorts Jasper dryly. "I also found myself looking into the spiritualist movement at points, and they used a similar poppet in hopes of linking the dead to them. A curious habit, but religious people believe many things."
Simon considers him quietly for a moment, starting to relax. "It's for protection."
"If it can protect you, surely you don't need that lumbering oaf to keep you safe from a slender fellow in glasses," posits Jasper with unspoken challenge. Making that toxic masculinity work for him.
Simon may be fueled with toxic masculinity, but he's not stupid. Especially after the mouth whispered certain things to him earlier...
He looks Jasper in the eyes. "Some things require a frightening man with a gun to protect you from. Other things, that isn't enough."
"Then clearly you don't believe much in the power of the... doll? Figurine?" poses Jasper. He considers the other for a long moment. "I grow weary of this conversation. Perhaps you're not quite the exciting conversationalist I expected."
Simon apparently doesn't react well to negging. His expression sours. "Very well. I'll leave you to find more exciting conversation partners, then."
Jasper turns and heads off into the night!
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