OOM - Fangtasia

[lazy_but_loyal]

[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.]

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[onceaviking]

He lands in the parking lot and is running as soon as his feet his the ground. Running toward the door, through it, down the hall, into his office.

His shirt is still unbuttoned, the gold crown is still clutched in his left hand.
And he is desperately trying to think of what to do next.


He hasn't planned any further than this. Nothing solid at least.
He hadn't expected to survive his first strike to get this far this quickly.

"We need sanctuary."
His voice sounds strained.

If Jay has been by - but no. If Pam - Pam will need the house as a safe space later. She will.

[lazy_but_loyal]

Pam had felt something. Rushing through her, making the air around her vibrate.

The door slams open and she turns around with a startled gasp.

Eric is spattered with blood.

"Oh my god, what've you done??"

[onceaviking]

He strides past her toward the shelves at the back of the room. Then he turns and walks back to her, as he answers her question.
Trying to make his pacing seem purposeful.

"I staked a vampire," he says.
"The lover of Russell Edgington."

He doesn't feel like saying his name.
He doesn't think about the why of that.

[lazy_but_loyal]

As she watches his restless pacing with growing alarm, she's outright shocked when he tells her what he'd done, and her eyes widen, her jaw drops.

"Are you insane?"

[onceaviking]

He turns on her, pointing at her. It's a commanding gesture.

She has to think, because he can't .

"Where can we go?" Snarling.

He sounds furious.


He is terrified not in control of this situation at all.
He needs time.

[lazy_but_loyal]

Pam blinks and recoils at his sudden wrath.

Oh fuck.

This is really fucking serious.

She thinks, fast, her mind racing and her tongue trying to keep up with it.

"Uh-- a human home would be safest! We've both been invited into Sookie's--?"

[onceaviking]

"No!" he snaps. "That is out of the question."

Gesturing with the crown.

Not Sookie. If she is smart, she's left. But she isn't smart, not when it comes to being sensible and running away. And he won't lure Edgington back to her.

He grabs a Kleenex and starts wiping his face.

[lazy_but_loyal]

Pam stares at him, startled and bewildered. She's never seen Eric quite like this before, and it's so not a good sign.

"You never panic. Should I be panicking??"

She is starting to panic.

And what is with the crown?

Hasty footsteps approach, and Pam turns around as Ginger enters the office, looking even more wide-eyed than usual.

[onceaviking]

Ginger.

Ginger is human.
Sort of.

"Ginger, dear," Eric says, managing to sound almost casual. Almost. "Where do you live?"

[lazy_but_loyal]

Ginger glances at Eric, eying all the blood on his face, and then at Pam, who's hurrying to put on a pink top.

"Across the river in Bossier," Ginger replies. "Why?"

"We need your house," says Pam, also trying to sound casual. "Now-ish."

Ginger wants to be helpful! "Because of the V-Feds?" she asks.

Slowly, Pam turns to look at Eric, dread weighing heavy in her expression. Because now is the time for the shit to hit the fan.

[onceaviking]

Eric has been shrugging off his blood stained shirt, but now he stops and turns to look at Ginger. And Pam.

Fuck!

"I'll need to wash up," he says. "Stay here!"
He speeds, lightening quick, into the staff bathroom.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!

[lazy_but_loyal]

Pam tries not to panic even though they're well past the point of trying to stay calm.

So the Authority have found out. Or at least they suspect Eric. But they have no evidence of anything. Do they?

Ginger is on the verge of flailing. "What're we gonna do?"

"We are going to handle this," Pam replies evenly, zipping up her top. "If anybody asks you about anything at all, you know nothing. Got it?"

"I know nothin'," Ginger says with a firm nod. "Got it."

It's not going to be much of a stretch for her, Pam thinks.

Eric's tension wraps around her bones like a vice. He really is panicking. He really is in trouble. And this time, there may not be an easy way out of it.

[onceaviking]

He gets rid of the blodspatter quickly.
He's got practice.

Then he grabs a clean tank top and returns to the office as he pulls it on.
"I'll go first," he says.

"Ginger? If they ask you, you don't know anything, okay?"
Which is basically true anyway.

"Pam? I'll handle this. Okay?"

His words may sound convincingly self-assured, but there is still terror screaming in his blood. She'll know that. She can feel it.

But he will handle it.
He's not sure how. But he will.

He heads through the door and into the bar itself, tugging his tank top down. Looking back to make sure that both Pam and Ginger are behind him. Squaring his shoulders a little. It doesn't change the fact that he is looking hesitant, rather than self-assured.

V-Feds. A fucking SWAT team complete with masks and heavy guns.
And isn't that - ?


Yes, of course. Of course it is.

[lazy_but_loyal]

Ginger looks up at Eric in earnest. "Don't worry, Eric, I don't know nothin' 'bout anythin'!" she assures him.

Pam, meanwhile, stays silent and only nods, checking him over to see if he'd missed any bloodspatters. He hasn't, he's clean.

Then, with overwhelming dread and uncertainty, she and Ginger follow Eric out into the main bar.

The SWAT team is a little much, isn't it? The armed and helmeted officers line the room, stone still and menacing.

And then, a figure stalks toward Eric out of the shadows. High heels, short leather coat. She removes her sunglasses, revealing a very pale, very angled, very severe face. And she gives Eric a very severe glare.

Pam scowls. She never liked Nan Flanagan. Great sense of style, but such a bitch.

[onceaviking]

"I'm sorry, Miss Flanagan. The bar is closed," Eric says, placing himself between Nan (and the SWAT team) and Pam.

And Ginger.

She looks just as pissed as she did in Dallas.

And in France.

To his own ears, his voice sounds almost thin.

[dobadthings]

Is there ever a time when Nan doesn't look pissed?

"Thank you, I already ate," she says. "TruBlood only, of course."

Pam can't help an eye-roll at this, even as Nan glances at her. No vampire can truly sustain one's self on that fake shit.

But it's Eric that Nan is here for. It's been too soon since she's last seen him.

"Can't stay out of trouble, can you?" she sneers at him. "The VRA is two states away from ratification. I should be kissing asses in Oregon, not cleaning up after you in fucking Louisiana."

Pam barely restrains another roll of her eyes, because it's not like she and Eric had any choice to end up in fucking Louisiana in the first place. The Vampire Rights Amendment, her ass.

[onceaviking]

"Oh, I promise you there is nothing amiss in my area," Eric lies, but it's not terribly convincing.
Not that it matters.

She'd never believe him anyway.

But this way, she'll turn her wrath on him alone.

[dobadthings]

"Shut up," Nan hisses impatiently. "You're making my head hurt."

She looks over at a couple of the V-Feds, standing at the ready to obey her every command.

"Officer -- silver him."

One of the uniformed men marches up behind Eric. Silver cuffs folded in his gloved hand, he presses it firmly to the exposed skin between Eric's neck and shoulder.

[onceaviking]

He groans and sinks to his knees. Not resisting in the least.
They're too many.

He dimly feels Pam. And hears Ginger scream.

[dobadthings]

Nan...actually smiles as Eric is subdued.

Pam inhales sharply and swallows, every ounce of her wanting to say something, to do something, but she can't.

Ginger's hysterical scream, however, says it all.

Nan aims a look at her.

"Shut her up," she snaps at Pam.

Then she turns to the other V-Feds, with a wordless nod toward Eric.

With the one man still holding the silver to him, two others grab him under the arms and haul him up onto a chair. They stand on either side of him, their rifles pointed down, but ready to use.

Nan stands in front of Eric.

"Not that I want to, but I can make it a lot easier on you if you agree to answer a few questions. The main one being, where's the Magister?"

[onceaviking]

Eric doesn't resist being moved about.

"I have no idea," he replies. "Not here."
Ignoring her clear enjoyment of this.
And ignoring Pam, because he has to.

[dobadthings]

Nan drags a chair over and sits down, facing him directly.

"Thing is," she says, "we have reports that he was in Shreveport just before he disappeared. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

Pam watches silently from the bar, wishing that guard would take the silver off of him already.

Ginger is trying to keep from hyperventilating.

[onceaviking]

"Oh, he was here," Eric replies, visibly relaxing his jaw.
The silver fucking hurts.

"As you are well aware. But he isn't here now."

[dobadthings]

Nan gives him a flat expression.

"So you wouldn't mind if I had a little look around."

It's not a question.

[onceaviking]

"Of course not. I wouldn't dream of standing in the way of truth and justice," Eric says, acidly.