lazy_but_loyal: (mad face)
[Continued from here.]


Revenge is a wonderful motivator. Pam had learned this from Eric, who didn't even really have to instill that much into her, she was already of that mindset the moment she was turned. It was something they could bond over.

But that Eric is gone. Pam will never have the same bond with the Eric who exists now.

She'll just have to deal with it.

Revenge therapy is a good start.

Pam flies through the humid Bon Temps night, down its backwoods lanes, through its moonlit forests that reeked of werewolves. She's hunting. Smelling, listening. Her senses draw her toward Merlotte's Bar & Grill. God, she hadn't been to this fucking dump in a long time.

There are two women quietly talking in the parking lot. Tara and her girlfriend. Pam hears their conversation before she even gets within twenty feet of them.

"You are coming home, right?" the other woman asks Tara. "I mean, back to New Orleans?"

"I want to, Naomi..." Tara replies, uncertainty in her voice.

"But...?" Naomi urges, shaking her head. "You hate this place. You said there was nothing left for you here."

Pam steps into the circle of light from a streetlamp.

"Now, that's a rotten thing to say," she quips. Dry as dust.

The two women turn in shock and fright at the sight of her, the shadows on her face accentuating the literal holes in her skin in a ghastly way.

"Rotten. Get it?"

They start to back up, Tara pushing Naomi behind her.

"I had no idea what Marnie was doin'-!"

"Spare me the dyke-in-the-woods routine, Tara," Pam snarls.

Tara warns Naomi, "Get out now."


"Get in the car. Drive as fast as you can. This isn't your fight!"

"It isn't yours either!"

Pam is taking her sweet time strolling closer and closer, enjoying the scent of their sweat and adrenaline. The frantic beating of both of their hearts is music to her ears.

"Girls, no need to squabble," she purrs. "There's plenty of me to go around."

Tara shouts, "Go! Now!"

But it's too late. Fangs bared, and with the blood-curdling screech of an angry leopard, Pam is on them in less than the blink of an eye. She slams Tara to the ground and straddles her, cold fingers wrapped around her throat, while her other hand holds tightly onto Naomi's throat, effortlessly keeping her at arm's length as she struggles.

"I can't decide which of you to kill first," Pam sneers, like a cat playing with her food. "You like your piece of tail?" Tara's eyes dart to Naomi. This is not lost on Pam. "Huh. I'll start with her, then."

Pam throws Naomi backwards, and she lands in a heap on the ground. The moment Pam gets to her feet, Tara draws a gun on her. Pam smacks it away. It's lost in the thick bushes in the dark.

"Play fair, now."

Pam whips around just in time to catch Naomi's leg as she attempts a roundhouse kick. That's so cute, she's a kickboxer. Pam delivers a blow to her chest that sends her flying.

"Run! Run for the bar!" Tara shouts.

As Naomi tries to scramble away, Pam tackles her in a blur, laying her out on her back. Naomi screams. Pam slaps her hard, almost knocking her out.

"Shut up."

She's about to sink her teeth into her throat when Tara comes up behind her and whacks her in the head with a tire iron. A piece of her scalp with long, blonde hair attached splats on a car's windshield several yards away.

Now Pam is just fucking furious.

She spins around on her feet, catching Tara's wrist when she tries to hit her again. Pam knocks the tire iron out of her hand before grabbing her throat and squeezing. Tara gasps for air.

"You wanna die first? Fine by me," Pam growls, lifting Tara clean off her feet. "How does it feel to have your life slippin' outta you?"

Tara gurgles weakly, her eyes rolling back into her head as the air is choked out of her.

"Huh? What? What's that? I can't understand you. Too bad. I'll never know."

Suddenly: there's a flash of light from a camera. Then another, and another, and another.

A whole fucking crowd of people from the bar have gathered, and they've got their phones out.

"I knew it, told you they were killers," someone chatters.

"TMZ's offerin' 10K for a real live vamp-attack video!" says someone else.

"Well, you're gonna have to share it with me."

"What the hell's the matter with her face?"

"Hey! Show us your face!"

"Are you sure she ain't a zombie?"

"Holy crap. Now there's zombies?"

...Is this real life? Is this really happening? What the fuck?

Are they really talking about her her face???

Pam turns her face away from the flashing cameras and phones. Horrified. Completely and utterly horrified. Tara is dying in her unrelenting grip, but she's horrified that these photos and videos will be on the internet within seconds and her disfigured face will most likely be visible. FUCK.

"I... am not... a zombie!" she shouts with indignant rage.

Someone mutters, "That's exactly what a zombie would say: 'I'm not a zombie.'"

"Like she's gonna tell us she's really a zombie..."

Idiots. Holy shit, they're all idiots.

Pam can't risk killing Tara now, not in front of everyone. Revenge was close, so close. She glares at Tara as her consciousness begins to fade, lowering her so that they're face to face.

"It may be ten minutes from now, or ten years," Pam hisses in a voice that only Tara can hear. "The moment you think you're safe, I promise I will hunt you down, and fuckin' shred you like confetti."

She lets go of Tara's throat, and she drops to the ground, wheezing. And Pam takes off into the night, away from the crowd of gawkers, away from this shithole.

Revenge will be hers some day. But right now, as soon as she gets back home to Shreveport, she's going to have to find a way to fix her face.

Because she's got fucking priorities, goddammit.

[Scene and dialogue from True Blood S4E6 & E7.]
lazy_but_loyal: (mad face)
Pam wasn't sure how much longer her face -- and her entire body, really -- could hold up under the witch's curse. But when she got a call from Bill Compton, saying that he'd captured Marnie, and was holding her in a jail cell in the lower level of his mansion, Pam shot over to Bon Temps as fast as she could. Naturally, Pam thought they could get some fucking answers out of her, but as she watched on the monitor as Bill interrogated her, it was obvious that any progress was not going to happen.

"Recently, a vampire associate of mine entered the MoonGoddess Emporium and has not been seen since," Bill said into a microphone that broadcasted his voice into the witch's cell. "Do you know what happened to him?"

Of course, Pam kept silent. For all she knew, Eric was still hiding at Sookie's. Hopefully.

"He attacked us," said Marnie into the camera, looking like a frightened deer. "We started chanting, and-- he left. I have no idea where he went."

"What were you chanting?" Bill asked.

"It was a-- a non-specific protection incantation. I barely remember what I said because your 'associate' took a chunk out of my neck."

Bill glanced up at Pam, an eyebrow slightly raised. "Yes, he does that," he said dryly.

But Pam was getting more impatient with every word that wasn't to her liking. "Please tell her to reverse this goddamn spell," she hissed at him.

So Bill continued. "You have placed a spell on another associate of mine. A rotting spell of some kind, and I'd like you to reverse it."

"I don't know how," Marnie practically squeaked.

"Bullshit," Pam snarled. This had to be an act.

"You're certain?" Bill went on.

"Yes," Marnie insisted, sounding on the verge of tears. "I-- I have no idea how I cast it or how to reverse it. I'm sorry."

It was then that Bill decided to meet Marnie face to face and glamour her. Pam continued to watch on the monitor as he entered the cell. She had to admit, Bill had some balls to go in there, knowing what Marnie could do to vampires. But before Marnie could do anything out of fright, he held her in his thrall and pinned her to the wall.

"What are your intentions concerning witchcraft?" Bill demanded, looking her straight in the eyes.

In a trembling monotone, she murmured, "Only to assemble peacefully and practice our religion."

"What spell did you cast on Eric Northman at MoonGoddess Emporium?"

"I don't know. I was in a panic."

"How do we reverse the spell that you cast on my associate in the woods?"

"I don't know how."

Pam let out a noise of disgust and frustration.

Bill turned to look up at the camera. "You heard her," he said to Pam.


Why wasn't this bitch giving up anything?

Read more... )

[Dialogue taken from True Blood S4E5.]
lazy_but_loyal: (hopelessly devoted)
[Continued from here.]

Pam opens the Staff Only door onto the main room of Fangtasia. It's empty and quiet, though some of the lights are still on, illuminating the dance poles and the stage.

The stage glows a deep blood red, the throne stands without its sheriff.

Pam drifts toward the edge of the room. She keeps her distance from Eric, knowing that the smell of rotting flesh upsets him as much as it would anyone.

"This is your nightclub, Eric."
lazy_but_loyal: (Default)
Tonight is a red dress kind of night.

Pam is handling Fangtasia on her own this evening, since Eric has been called away by King Bill (fucking) Compton on some business. It's no surprise to her that a vampire so inferior would use every opportunity to take a power trip. Probably about something stupid, too.

As the night wears on, Pam herself receives a visitor. A very unexpected one at that: Sookie.

And she comes with a very unexpected request.

Eric wouldn't want Pam to turn her away, annoying as she is. So she'll hear her out, as much as she possibly can without rolling her eyes. Turns out that Sookie has come to complain about her house, and Eric buying it while she'd gone missing, and something something blah blah blah.

"Every memory of everyone I have ever loved is in that house," Sookie pleads in the relative quiet of Eric's office. "If there is anything you can do to convince him to leave me alone--"

"Did I miss somethin'?" Pam says, wholly uninterested in Sookie's problems, as she adjusts an earring. Because pleading with Pam gets you absofuckinglutely nowhere. And why the hell does Sookie think Pam would do any favors for her? "Are we 'girls' now? Do we join a book club and read some queer chick-lit memoir, so now we're bonded together by estrogen, or sisterhood, or some other feminist drivel?" She was that close to eye-rolling there.

Sookie pulls a little face. "I don't do book clubs."

God, does she really take things that literally.

"Neither. Do. I." Pam looks her in the eye, cold and unblinking. "Eric is my Maker, Sookie. Did you really think I'd side with you on this?"

They both know the answer.

Pam glides over to a small, gilded mirror on the wall to check her impeccable reflection. It frames her face perfectly. And yeah, she's looking pretty hot as usual.

Undeterred, Sookie asks, "Are you expecting him back tonight?"

Pam doesn't look away from her hotness in the mirror. "He usually checks in to count receipts before he goes to ground." A little flip of the hair.

"I'll wait for him here," Sookie suggests, "if that's all right with you."

Pam takes a moment.

Eric wouldn't want Pam to say no.

"Of course," she says with velvet masking her disdain, before turning to head for the door. But then she stops and faces Sookie again. "While you're waitin', though," she adds as an afterthought, "you really should reconsider his offer."

Sookie, standing there with her arms folded, gives Pam an incredulous expression. "Why? So he can keep me? Use me? Drink from me? Or maybe lose control and drain me altogether?"

"It beats someone else doin' it," Pam replies in all seriousness.

She steps closer to Sookie, her senses picking up the sweet warmth of her skin and blood.

"With what you are, Faerie Princess, you need to be somebody's, or you won't be at all. Eric is handsome, he's rich, and in his own way-- he cares about you." Eyebrow arch. "He really does."

It's a hard sell. Pam doesn't make much of an effort.

And Sookie doesn't seem to buy it anyway. "Thanks for the advice," she says, trying to hide the fact that this is just a little bit unnerving. "But I will never be Eric Northman's puppet."

Sweet, defiant little Sookie.

"Mmm. Shame for you, then," Pam purrs and smirks, her gaze never straying. "He pulls good string."

With that, she turns on her heel and strides out of the office, leaving Sookie to wait for Eric's return.

Thing is, neither of them have any idea that Eric-- at least, the Eric they both know-- isn't coming back.

(Continued: Later that night...)

[Dialogue taken from S4E3 of True Blood.]
lazy_but_loyal: (Default)
[Continued from here]

The room that Bar gives them is as efficient as any hotel room but not entirely dull to look at, because this is Pam, and she gets bored fast.

When Ivan opens the door, Pam stops on the threshold. He booked the room after all, so it's kind of his.

"You need to invite me in," she says, a hand on her hip. "It's a vampire thing."
lazy_but_loyal: (unimpressed)
When Pam arrives back at Fangtasia, Ginger is gone and the floor is spotless, but she's miserable and bitchy. Well, bitchier than usual. The cement has almost completely dried on her clothes, and worse, in her hair.

But she did manage to save her shoes.

Muttering curses under her breath, she makes a beeline for the private bathroom in Eric's office. Dumping her clothes in a chalky, mucky pile on the floor, she steps into the shower and plans to stay there for infinity.

Or at least until her hair stops being crusty.

Bill fucking Compton. He had the nerve to try to rub Eric out. And he must have been the one who sent Ruben after her. Saving her Maker's life and diving into wet cement after staking a vampire was not her idea of a great night.

Bill. Fucking. Compton.

And after an entire bottle of shampoo, her hair is still crusty.

Eventually, Pam steps out of the shower and pulls on a thick, fluffy bathrobe. Small luxuries are welcome right now. She's not as miserable anymore, but she's still as bitchy as all fuck.

She wanders out into the bar, brushing the last bits of cement out of her wet, stringy hair.
lazy_but_loyal: (mad face)
Fangtasia is closed for the night.

Pam figured that Eric was going to come up with ways to recoup their financial losses thanks to-- well, everything that's been happening that forced them to keep their doors shut until everything was sorted. So now, she's just going to hold down the fort and do her nails while Ginger sweeps up the crusty flakes that Russell left behind.

"Hey, Pam-?" Ginger asks.

"Ah-ah!" Pam snaps. "What did I tell you?"

"Oh," says Ginger, cringing sheepishly. "Sorry. For a second there I forgot about the No Talking To Pam Tonight rule."

"You're still talking to me, Ginger."


Ginger resumes sweeping.

And for a moment, Pam pauses what she's doing, as she senses that something is wrong. That Eric might be in trouble. It's a disturbing feeling.

Suddenly the front door, which was supposed to have been locked, bursts open.

Pam whirls around.

Ginger screams and drops the broom.

It's Ruben, and he's got a length of silver chain in his gloved hands.

"Miss De Beaufort," he rumbles.

"Ruben, what the hell are you doing here with that?" Pam demands.

"Mr. Northman's orders," he says plainly, and with vampire speed, he rushes at her, fangs down.

Before Pam can think Oh, you have GOT to be kidding me, she counters the attack by flinging a table at him, sending him flying into, well, the counter.

Ginger is still screaming.

"For fuck's sake, Ginger, get out of here!" Pam yells at her. Tottering and teetering on her platform high heels, Ginger flees into the ladies' room.

Ruben picks himself up from amid the broken glasses and liquor bottles. Pam circles, giving him a wide berth.

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" she snaps at him, her own fangs having dropped out of fury. "Why would Eric order you to come after me?"

"He didn't say," Ruben grunts, picking up the chain.

Really. Really? It's one thing to have mindless minions, but for them to be so dull-witted and incompetent is another. Pam told Eric he should have killed this one when he fucked up trying to track down Bill Compton.

"Oh, you are gonna regret this so hard," she warns him.

He says nothing to that. He only starts swinging the chain, approaching her head-on. Lashing out with the chain like a whip, he aims for her face.

Which is dumb, because Pam will always protect her face in a fight. Touch the face, you die.

She blocks the chain with her arm and it wraps around her wrist (thank goodness she's wearing long sleeves). Giving it a hard pull, she yanks Ruben forward and smashes his nose with her elbow.

He yowls in shock and pain, but grabs her by the shoulders and hurls her to the floor. With the wind knocked out of her, he straddles her and wraps his hands around her throat.

As Pam struggles, her fingers curl around something thin and made of wood. The broom handle that Ginger had dropped. How convenient.

She whacks Ruben on the head with it, and it breaks in half. Dazed, his grip on her throat loosens just enough for her to flip him over onto his back. She pins him down.

"I said you were gonna regret this," she snarls.

And she plunges both halves of the broken broom handle into his chest. He screams.

She darts away at vampire speed, seconds before Ruben's body explodes into a huge mess of blood and goopy entrails. Because she is not getting any of that shit on her.

Some assassin.

She sheathes her fangs.


After a moment's silence, the door to the ladies' room creaks open. Ginger tiptoes out. And upon seeing the mess, she promptly starts screaming. Again.

With a frustrated sigh, Pam takes her aside and looks her straight in the eyes. Ginger eventually stops screaming.

"You're going to clean this up," Pam tells her, calmly, almost soothingly, without blinking.

"I am gonna clean this up, no problem," Ginger repeats in a slight monotone as she receives her billionth glamouring.

"And when you're done, you're going to go home."

"I'm'a go home for sure when I'm done."

"And you're not going to remember any of this."

"Nope, not at all."

"Good. Now get to it."

Ginger wafts away to go fetch the cleaning supplies.

Pam then finds a bit of bloody goo on her pant leg.

"Goddammit," she mutters, and she wrinkles her nose as she takes a napkin and tries to wipe the stain off.
lazy_but_loyal: (fangs)
Poor Sookie. Chained up like a dog in the dungeon. The girl probably hadn't slept a wink, sitting on the concrete floor, cold and damp as it is down here.

Pam smiles.

Finally, shit's getting done.

She goes back upstairs. With Eric gone to track Russell down, she's got to defend the fort for when Bill inevitably comes sniffing around for his precious fairy cunt. And it's not long before she hears the front door slam open.

"Sookie! Eric!"

Read more... )
lazy_but_loyal: (Default)
[Continued from here.]

The ladies' room is empty, and sparkling clean, possibly the cleanest restroom in existence. (Such is the work of the Oompah Loompahs.)

Pam's heels echo against the tiles as she walks down an aisle between rows of stalls. She then stops and picks one, pushing the door open, and steps inside.

"C'mon in," she purrs at Noriko.
lazy_but_loyal: (Default)
[Continued from here.]

Pam has no qualms about simply taking what she wants from humans. The humans who don't matter to her. Which are 99% of them. But sometimes one or two stand out, like Yvetta back home, or even Ginger to a degree. She's learned to treat Jay a little better, because he has a connection to Eric.

And Jemma, well... It just wouldn't feel right to take her blood and not give something back, even if she offered to help.

(In the old days, they could just grab someone off the street, drain them to within an inch of their life, glamour them and leave them in an anemic heap. Good times.)

So it's with this in mind that Pam opens the door to her room. She lets Jemma in first, following her inside, and then closes the door behind Eric.

Her room is as it has always been since they were last here. Same warm lighting, same huge comfortable bed.

Eric has already had a small taste of Jemma from the wrist. Pam figures he might want to go for the usual, less formal method via the throat. She's not overly concerned, no. But she will watch carefully. Eric is hungry, and just like herself, he can get carried away.
lazy_but_loyal: (seriously)
[Continued from here.]

Fangtasia is closed for the night.

The red neon sign in the window is still on, the door still unlocked, but the place is empty except for Ginger in the kitchen and Pam in Eric's office.

Pam is changing out of her leather bustier and miniskirt into more comfortable clothes that she'd brought along. Hot pink cropped leggings and matching Uggs for starters.

She takes her time as she slips off her top, revealing a leopard-print bra. She thinks of nothing in particular, only that she hopes to hear from Eric before dawn.

[Dialog lifted from True Blood season 3, episode 9.]
lazy_but_loyal: (unimpressed)
Okay. She's got this.

Eric has left with Russell Edgington and his new bride Sophie-Ann. And now Pam has ensconced herself in Eric's office and is actually doing stuff. And things. Because she has to, and procrastinating isn't an option. With one eye on the clock, she needs to get things in order at Fangtasia at least an hour before dawn if they're going to be open for business tomorrow night.

Read more... )
lazy_but_loyal: (hopelessly devoted)
Pam would've objected to being carried.

But, ah, what the hell. She'd earned it.

And she wouldn't have been able to do anything about it anyway, because the moment Eric wrapped his arms around her, her body just gave out. It didn't want to be upright anymore. It didn't want to move on its own. It didn't want to lift a thing.

Besides, Eric is comfortable.

She didn't care where he was carrying her, just as long as it was away.

And then, even though Pam's eyes were closed and her senses were nearly shutting down from sheer exhaustion, she knew that they'd stepped into Milliways. Somewhere at the back of her foggy mind, she thought, Perfect. She'd never wanted to be here more than right now.

She smells Jemma, and she hears her voice. She would say hello, but, meh, too tired.

They arrive in her room.
lazy_but_loyal: (hopelessly devoted)



Water collected in stagnant puddles in dark corners of the dungeon.

The drip, drip, drip was the only sound in the dimness, and it was starting to annoy the fuck out of Pam.

cut for references to torture )
lazy_but_loyal: (unimpressed)
[Continued from here.]

"Come out, come out, wherever you are," the Magister sings out, his voice an oozing echo in the semi-darkness of the dungeon.

Pam shoves her phone into her pocket and turns to look up at him as he and several of his vampire henchmen descend the stairs.

"Magister!" she says with a smile. "What a pleasant surprise."

The Magister is not amused.

"Oh, there's nothing pleasant about this."

One of his men is holding a cooler filled with large glass tubes containing vampire blood. The Magister takes one of them out and holds it up.

" blasphemy," he hisses. "Take her!"

Two men grab Pam by the arms and drag her away, and the Magister follows, his cane tapping on the damp concrete floor.

cut for descriptions of torture )
lazy_but_loyal: (unimpressed)
She woke up alone.

Fangtasia was empty and quiet. In the solitude before opening time, Pam got ready for the evening -- something simple, just slim black jeans and a black-and-lavender patterned zip-up jacket, accessorizing with a pewter choker (silver-free) with a pair of sunglasses to hold her hair back from her face, and keeping her makeup light and casual as well.

It was her way of getting over last night. She wasn't angry at Eric for losing his temper with her. Just a little sore. She certainly didn't enjoy pissing him off. In fact she realized she probably pressed him too insistently, but sometimes pushing his buttons was the only way to get him to pull his head out of his ass.

They're both under a shitload of pressure. At least one of them has got to keep it together. And she would rather it be him.

Emerging from the back rooms, Pam heads for Eric's office...and finds the door half off its hinges. She heaves a beleaguered sigh. She'll have to call someone in to repair it.

Before she does that, though, she goes to the safe and retrieves last night's receipts to go through. Usually that's Eric's task, or at least a thing to do to pass the time, but since she doesn't know if he's coming in tonight, she supposes it's her task now.

So she settles in at his desk with a bottle of TruBlood. And begins to do her nails.

It's then that she remembers it's Ginger's night off. Ugh, oh well. As soon as the staff starts trickling in within an hour or two, she'll delegate the work.

Pam is filing the middle fingernail of her left hand when she hears a loud noise. A forceful bang at the front door. Then men's voices, and the trampling of heavy boots.

"What the fuck..." she mutters, and she gets up, rushing into the hall when she stops short at the closed STAFF ONLY door.

A familiar voice, sneering and reptilian, gives out an order:

"Search every inch of this place. Find every drop of V -- and find Eric Northman!"

It's the Magister.

Pam gasps and doubles back.

She's got to warn Eric.

With vampire speed she flees down to the dungeon to hide. But she knows she doesn't have much time until the Magister and his henchmen finish scouring every room, nook, and cranny. They'll find the V.

And then they'll find her.

She digs her phone out of her pocket and calls Eric.
lazy_but_loyal: (happy face)
Eric was away for the evening.

This meant Pam could use his office.

After Fangtasia opened for business and the night's festivities got underway, Pam assigned a bouncer to the door and told Ginger to keep an eye on the bar. Because there was something Pam had to do. Rather, someone.

She pulled Yvetta off her shift -- assuring her that she'd still be paid her usual wages -- and invited her into Eric's office. Clearing some space on the desk, Pam sat her down, reached up the woman's miniskirt, and did away with her panties.

Fairly soon, in addition to the thumping techno music that reverberated throughout nearly the entire building, a crescendo of gasping, keening cries could be heard through the office door.

...Cries that were cut off by a ringing telephone.

Annoyed, Pam got up and out from between Yvetta's legs. She grabbed the receiver and stepped a few paces away from the table while Yvetta remained where she was, leaning back on her hands.

"Fangtasia," Pam answered, "this better be good."

A hesitant, halting voice was on the other end of the line. "Oh, hi, Pam, it's Jessica Hamby. We talked yesterday? I'm the one who-"

"I remember you perfectly," she snapped. "What is it?"

The hesitation was almost palpable. "Um... Well, I really, desperately need your help. I don't know where Bill is, and gosh, you guys are the only other vampires I know-"

"Spit it out, cupcake. I'm in the middle of something."

Behind her, Yvetta snickered.

"Right," Jessica continued, trying to compose herself. "Um... You remember how I was asking how you would- y'know, what you would do if you, like, killed somebody by accident?"

Pam sighed. "Did you call the hypothetical hardware store and buy a theoretical chainsaw?"

"Yes! And that's just the problem! I went to get the chainsaw, and now he's gone."

Okay. That was unexpected.

"What?" she said, one eyebrow arching.

Jessica sounded understandably flustered. "I left for like fifteen minutes and he just disappeared!"

Pam was actually somewhat curious, in that this sort of thing doesn't happen every day, but not so curious to be concerned. Maybe there was a zombie wandering around Bon Temps right now. Who knows? It really is none of her business.

"So the problem you have is that there is no dead body in your house?"


"Doesn't sound like a problem to me. Gotta run."

Pam returned to the desk and hung up the phone as Yvetta grinned up at her, eager for her to continue.

"Babies, they're all the same," Pam snorted, smirking. "Now, where were we? Oh, right..."

She placed her cold hands on Yvette's knees and spread them wide.

"Lie back, sweetheart," she purred, sinking lower, "and think of Estonia."

[NOTE: Dialogue taken from True Blood episode 3x03.]
lazy_but_loyal: (Default)
[Same night immediately following this.]

Pam followed the smell of frying meat and boiling vegetables through the back door of Merlotte's Bar and Grill and wandered unaccosted through the hallway until she found the head cook in the pantry and cornered him there.

She dropped a baggie into Lafayette's hands. It contained several bottles and large vials of V.

"Here you go, sweetheart," she cooed as if handing over a present.

Lafayette stared in horror at the stash. "What am I s'posed to do with all of this?"

"Do what you do best with it," she said. "We're getting rid of our inventory, you see. Think of it as an end-of-season, half-off sale."

He gave her a dubious look. "A half-off sale on V," he said, his tone dry. "Even though part of the allure of this shit is how expensive and exotic it is."

"Well, then sell it for twice the price," she replied agreeably. "We don't care. Just so long as it's all gone by the time we wake up tomorrow evening."


"Is there a problem?"

Lafayette held up the baggie. "Nah, hooka', look, I can't sell all this shit by tomorrow!" he protested. "I got a cousin in trouble, she needs-"

And that was when Pam finally lost her patience.

In a blur of speed, she pinned him face-first against the wall.

"I don't know what it is about me that makes people think I want to hear their problems," she purred, her voice drifting like a cold draft over his shoulder. "Maybe I smile too much. Maybe I wear too much pink. But please remember, I can rip your throat out if I need to. And also know that I am not a hooker. That was a long, long time ago."

Shaking, eyes wide, Lafayette didn't dare turn his head.


"Yeah? You pickin' up what I'm puttin' down?"

"I is."

"Good." She smiled, practically beaming at him. "I'll be back tomorrow to pick up the money."

And she left him there, her work done for the night.

Lafayette didn't move or blink or breathe again until he couldn't hear the clicking of her high heels anymore.

[NOTE: Dialogue taken directly from True Blood episode 3x01.]
lazy_but_loyal: (unimpressed)
Well, that was an interesting evening.

'Interesting' meaning stressful as fuck, of course.

So she does what she does best when under pressure: she gets herself all dolled up.

She has a feeling Eric will send her out again tonight instead of having her work the door, so she keeps things simple and conservative with a nice fucshia cardigan. The patterned skirt, pumps, and Gucci handbag match as well.

As if they wouldn't.

Heading down the hallway toward Eric's office, she He must be brooding. He always listens to that old-world music when he's brooding. But she expects that, especially after what happened last night.

The clicking of her high heels announce her presence before she does. She knocks on the office door out of courtesy and not necessity, as Eric will already know it's her. Upon entering the office, she finds him just as she expects to as well, but she makes no comment on that. She makes no comment on the weird music either.

In fact she makes no comment on anything at all, as she stands in front of his desk, her arms crossed expectantly, waiting for him to say something first.

Read more... )
lazy_but_loyal: (pleasant)
[Continued from here.]

Pam slips the key into the lock and pushes the door open, flicking a nearby light switch. Immediately the expansive room is illuminated warmly by a black chandelier in the center of the ceiling.

The decor has an old-fashioned, Victorian feel to it, but with modern sensibilities. And also lots of pink and black.

The walls are a very deep shade of pink; the thick carpet is black. Two chairs set at a round table with a black marble top have gilded arms and backs, with satiny pink cushions. Black velvet drapes are pulled closed and tight against the windows. The bed, at the far end of the room, is king-sized with an ornate padded headboard, the carvings matching the chairs. The sheets are black silk, and the pillows and duvet, of course are pink.

A black armoire stands in one corner by the bed, a matching dresser on the bed's opposite side. Both are empty, only because Pam hasn't had a chance to fill them yet.

Pam shuts the door and makes sure it locks behind Jemma.

"Go on and make yourself comfortable."
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