[And there it is, lost for words again. Trevor's gaze fixes on Adrian's hand, watching his thumb drift over Trevor's dry knuckles (dry, because they're prone to chapping and Sypha's only just introduced him to the concept of moisturizer), painfully aware of how soft Adrian is, how thoughtful and gentle. The difference between them is almost literally night and day, but even after all his obsessing and agonizing over it, Trevor doesn't want this to stop. There's no reason for it to stop, not when for some unfathomable reason, it actually makes the three of them incredibly happy. Mysterious ways, indeed.
Trevor chances meeting Adrian's gaze again -- sharp and golden -- and very nearly loses his nerve. His stomach drops, like staring over the fathoms of a cliff face. What is this terror? He's faced horrific leviathans and undefinable monstrosities, but this? This feels apocalyptic.
Slow, deep breath. Center. He can do this.]
You said... something. And maybe we should define what that means. I wouldn't want to lay all the foundation until Sypha has her say too. But if we can figure out what we are to each other, or what we want to be, maybe that will make the rest of it easier when she gets back.
[Alucard closes his eyes for a moment, his word absolutely drenched in warmth. Something like this means actually using the word dating, and part of him wants to joke that if this is a first date, everything else is going to pale in comparison.
But no. That would stop the big, grand gestures, and Alucard wants more of those. Perhaps that's too demanding - he doesn't know Trevor's finances, he doesn't know if the Belmont can access his family's wealth really - but he wants them all the same. It's an expression of love and devotion, just like how Alucard makes dinner for everyone, or refuses to let them pay for groceries and the like, or any other basic living expenses. It's his way of taking care of the other two. Saying I love you without ever voicing the words.
Alucard's eyes open. Both of his hands wrap around Trevor's, and the hold on gently.]
I want to keep dating you, Trevor Belmont. I care about you and your well being, and I want you to be happier than you were the day before.
[Dating is a strange word for it, but what else are they supposed to call it at this juncture? That's by leaps and bounds a far better answer than Trevor expected. He'd expected laughter at best, but this? This was reasonable. A dialogue of acceptance, and he could work with this if he could just keep finding the words.
He was actually doing surprisingly well in that department. Thank God for champagne.
But Trevor smiles. Not a shit-eating grin, not a sideways smirk, but an actual genuine smile, wide and warm and beautiful. There's relief in his posture too, in the way his shoulders relax and he looks as if he can actually breathe again.]
Yes. [And before Adrian's hands can slip away again, Trevor grips them gently and brings both to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to the back of each.] Yes. Thank you.
[Son of a bitch, Trevor just stole what Alucard was planning on doing next with Trevor's hand. Now he can't, lest he just look like a copycat.
God if the kisses don't put a tinge of pink to Alucard's cheeks though, the same way that that smile, one without sarcasm or being a dick nearly lights up the entire room. It's an expression Alucard has never seen cross Trevor's face, and now he'd pay millions to see it at least once every day.]
There's nothing to say thank you for. [His voice is soft, and there's such love in it.] I'm yours and Sypha's. That's all I can truly say.
[It's almost sentimental, the way Trevor presses his cheek to the back of Adrian's hand; scratchy as always, but warm and oddly affectionate. Trevor would never describe himself as needy, but if there's one thing he always seems to seek out, it's touch; that's probably the worst-kept secret between them. He was practically starved for it before Adrian and Sypha came into his life, and he seems to be making up for the lost time in spades.]
You gave us a home. [Trevor lowers Adrian's hands to the table again, but keeps them laced with his own.] And you don't look half-bad in leggings.
[God forbid he remain vulnerable for more than two minutes.]
[God, let him melt here. The scruff against Alucard's hand is almost too much, and there is extensive effort to keep any noise from escaping. It works, but just barely.]
Ah yes. The second and most important part of all.
[Yeah, Alucard didn't expect the vulnerability to stay. He'll rekindle it at home, or at least try to, all soft edges and gentle nudging of Trevor to try and get his way.]
I thought I might take you home and be a complete gentleman for the rest of the evening, but if you have other plans for me, I won't object.
[There's a moment of well-disguised panic, because he hadn't actually anticipated after dinner. This entire affair -- despite going off without a hitch -- hadn't exactly been planned in advance. It was a whim in the morning that blossomed into overly-confident folly, and part of Trevor hadn't expected Adrian to agree to it. He'd been so concerned about the reservations and securing Adrian's approval, he never considered the after.
[This is Trevor's plan. His evening. So he gets to call all of the shots, even if Alucard truly doesn't know the extent that Trevor is totally winging it from this point forward. He'd totally believe that if Trevor said so, but for now? Clearly, Trevor knows what he's doing.
There's a soft huff of a laugh, just a puff of noise, and it comes with a tiny smile on the dhampir's face.]
I have to say, I enjoy Trevor the complete gentleman.
[This isn't as challenging as anticipated, the whole being a gentleman thing. Trevor doesn't totally feel like himself, but he's too used to 'himself' being a drunken mess. Borderline alcoholism (or perhaps not so borderline) has a way of disassociating everything from reality. He thinks he remembers who he is without it, but inching back to that is something of an arduous task.
Like hell is he going to admit that, though. Adrian knows him well enough to tell this from... Well, how Trevor normally is, and the fact that he commented on it--
Trevor's trying not to be irked. Because Adrian didn't mean it that way, he's sure; it just feels like he enjoys this Trevor better.
He doesn't get to comment on it one way or the other. Their food is delivered a moment later, and Trevor reluctantly releases Adrian's hands to make room for the plates. Small portions, artistic presentation; some things are a constant with places like this, he supposes.]
I think I prefer your cooking. [Trevor says when their server is out of earshot again, tentatively poking around the plate with his fork. Where is the rest of it? Honestly.]
[Alucard squeezes Trevor's hand gently. He can see how Trevor is starting to withdraw into his own headspace right now, and that? That isn't allowed on a night like this. A squeeze once or twice almost becomes a slow rhythm. Anything to stop Trevor's train of thought.
The food though? Oh that's wonderful. Alucard knows he's a good cook, but there is the luxury of not cooking, along with the presentation. For only a half a rack of lamb, they've arranged it as a guard of honor and every part of the meat is perfectly rare.]
Only because my portions are more generous, I'm sure.
[He grins at that, taking the steak knife in hand.]
[There's nothing more to be said for that, really. Adrian has many talents, and Trevor's never seen fit to complain about his cooking. Considering how much he enjoys complaining in general, that's a feat in and of itself.
Though he's doing his best to not complain tonight, and he'd done quite well up until the comment about his steak. He glares through his plate for a few long moments, then resolves to enjoy it anyway, and starts in on his meal. And again, it's not bad; not by half. Tender, well-salted, and perfectly cooked.
Sometimes it really is as simple as deciding not to care. Sometimes, that's an inordinately difficult task, and Trevor cannot for the life of him understand why.]
[Alucard's mannerisms at the table are not exactly dainty, but they edge periously close and in truth, deserve some teasing. Because he is very careful as he eats, the lamb pieces cut into perfect tiny bites and then sometimes dipped in the jus or the mashed potatoes (creamed potatoes, really) as he sees fit.
It isn't a bad recipe. There's thyme all over the lamb in addition to the salt and pepper, along with the barest hint of cumin. And that's the luxury of eating out: new ideas for what to cook at home.][Alucard then reaches for his wine, and swirls it slowly.]
Far be it from me to come between you and that lamb. You're being very thorough with it. Should I be jealous?
[There's that smirk again, practically dripping from Trevor's lips. Because as much as jealousy is a wasted emotion, that hasn't stopped him from casting vaguely-threatening glances around the room for most of the night. He practically welcomes anyone to look at them sideways; he hasn't had a good brawl in a while, and while this is hardly the time or place...
He'd do it. For Adrian or for Sypha, he'd beat someone bloody without question, Michelin five-star rating or no. It's all just part of his charm.]
I'm complimenting the chef and your taste in places to go for dates, Belmont.
[Alucard shakes his head at Trevor. He hasn't missed those glances around the room, and they're nothing that he isn't used to. They do worry him though, that one day he actually will start a fight. There's a terrible difference between being protective versus over possessive, and Trevor's hedging towards the other.
He nudges Trevor gently under the table.]
Stop fussing. Anyone who makes a move isn't worth your time and effort.
[It's not as if Trevor's any stranger to vigilance, after all, and besides the more obvious preludes, there's always the possibility of something sinister lurking beneath someone's intentions. The Belmonts aren't the only monster-hunting clan in Wallachia, and you don't shack up with the son of Dracula without painting something of a target on your back. Most of the time, it's not an issue, nor does he anticipate it will be, but there's always that chance...
And Adrian needn't be privy to his paranoia, in any case.]
[There's a soft noise from Alucard that may be disapproval, but he says nothing more. Trevor is always going to be Trevor, and all Alucard can do is try and pull him out of his head from time to time. Attempting more is how fights start.
He's never worried about drawing the ire of others, not really. Some of it is because he is the Son of Dracula, and anyone stupid enough to attack him invites the wrath of Dracula upon their heads. The other is the security of simply being around the other two. It's an overly romantic sentiment, and he doesn't care.]
Please. But only if you'll sit on the same side of the booth with me to share it.
[There's the real danger inherent of this thing between them, however more official it's just become. Adrian makes everything sound so damn reasonable -- so tempting -- and Trevor has always fought reason and temptation with tooth and nail. It's still a daily struggle to combat that natural propensity toward contrariness, when when it's pleasant, and especially when it's for his own good.
But his grin softens, and he nods as he finishes off his (woefully scant) steak.]
As you wish. But first--
[The quartet has slowed to an adagio, and the melody suits Adrian, somehow. Who can say exactly how the machinations of Trevor's mind work in this regard, but melancholy strings and Adrian seem inexorably linked. Trevor rounds to Adrian's side of the table, one arm behind his back as he bows slightly and offers his hand to the dhampir.]
Alucard can feel the heat in his cheeks this time. He expected dancing to take place in the privacy of their own home, where every element could be controlled. He expected to eventually just lean into Trevor and kiss him for all he's worth. But public?
If tonight doesn't make it clear how easily persuaded Alucard is by romantic gestures, nothing ever well.
All Alucard can do is put his hand in Trevor's and then slowly stand - careful not to let any of the beading of his suit jacket get meat juices on it.]
How can I refuse?
[Ah, yes. The other problem. All Alucard wants to do is kiss the Belmont now, sod the dancing.]
[Trevor, in all his infinite wisdom, only has so much awareness of Adrian's own feelings on the matter. There's some vague assumption that perhaps Adrian is only humoring him, but Trevor's never been adept at reading people. In fact, he makes a point not to, and merely assumes that everyone in this world dislikes him to a certain degree. It's a self-fulfilling prophecy, but by his own figuring, he's just never been proven wrong before.
And he hasn't danced in years, so he's fully anticipating this will be a massive disappointment for Adrian. But damnit, he's trying, and he'll embarrass himself just this once if it means rounding out this night properly for Adrian.
It's a short walk to the dance floor, and despite Trevor's boasting, there's not nearly enough space for proper waltzing here. Ah well. He can improvise. One hand at Adrian's waist, the other holding his hand aloft in all the typical fashion, Trevor pauses for a moment with a sheepish grin, trying to pick out a rhythm.]
I haven't done this in years, and you're going to regret accepting this invitation.
[Beyond small, there are a few other couples on the floor. Alucard's grateful for that, as it means they're not likely to draw all eyes in the place to the two of them. This isn't the sort of privacy Alucard might have wanted for such a personal moment, but this isn't a date he's in control of. In truth? Not having that control is thrilling.
His hands are cool against Trevor's warmer skin, and he squeezes Trevor's waist for a moment as a means of reassurance.]
I doubt that.
[And so they begin. Alucard's eyes remain on Trevor's face, rather than looking down at their feet. He knows how to waltz, and for all of Trevor's protestations, he's good too. All it is is a moving a little slower to account for the size of the dance floor.]
[Trevor is fairly sure he wouldn't be as graceful with any other partner. But they've always been like this. Fighting, sparring, and even more clandestine activities, there's always a natural ebb and flow between them, a rhythm they fall into without really trying, and that's part of why Trevor's likes it. It's not easy, but it comes easily; settles naturally, if he just lets it.
What a sight they must be. Trevor wishes he could see them from the outside, observe this dichotomy of grace. Mostly he wishes he could see Adrian; just watch him dance, because he must be breathtaking. Maybe he can bring Sypha and Adrian back here before their opera date, hang behind while they conquer the dance floor together. Watch. That would be lovely.]
And you. When did you have formal training? [Trevor lifts his brow; he's impressed. Adrian is just full of surprises.]
[Alucard never expected to actually use the skill. Dancing like this wasn't common in Romania, and no one his age was likely to have learned it unless the family was truly moneyed. So...of course it would be with Trevor. Of course.
It's easy like this. As well as Alucard knows the steps, there's a true joy in letting Trevor lead. That joy has come to be a truth for all of the evening, because precious few things have been in Alucard's control. It's a romantic surrender, and all he wants now is to return home and be on the sofa the two of them, the dhampir simply curled up against Trevor's side, being held.
More than that, he wants to kiss the Belmont. Stupidly, desperately, and with a gentle enthusiasm that's suitable for a spot like this. That's for after the dance is over though, and they're not close to that point yet.]
[Trevor laughs anyway, but it's good-natured, rather than the sardonic snicker Adrian likely expected. More of these little peeks into the dhampir's youth. The more Trevor hears, the more he wants to know, and not for the sake of anything other than-- It's Adrian, and Trevor wants to know him. Intimately, all the little secret parts that pieced Adrian into the man Trevor's holding now; Trevor wants to know them all. Maybe here on this dancefloor -- feet miraculously missing one another with every step -- is as good a time to start as any.]
You speak of her so often; you make her sound extraordinary.
[As dangerous as it should feel to take any manner of vested interest in Dracula's wife... Well. Trevor's already thoroughly defiled Dracula's son. Surely asking about his childhood was no sin at this point.]
[Lisa Tepes, as much as the years have been unkind to her lately, is a remarkable woman. Not because she's romanced a vampire that's 900 years old, not because of her son, but because of her scientific research and where it can lead medicine in the centuries to come. Alucard and his father have tried to champion her at every moment they've been granted, and it's come with humiliation of late.
But that doesn't exchange how extraordinary her mind is, nor how caring she is to her patients and to her family. There may be a day where it's safe to introduce his mother to both Trevor and Sypha.
It isn't tonight.
Alucard shakes his head a little at the question.]
So much anatomy. I don't advise being the child of doctors, you will have highly specific medical knowledge.
[Not like vampire hunting. That's decidedly impractical in terms of the modern world, and all Trevor's varied -- near-encyclopedic -- knowledge of how to kill monsters is useless when it comes to actually living, let alone living with himself.
Trevor's grin goes positively vile for a moment.]
That highly specific anatomical knowledge seems to serve you well enough, doesn't it?
[Crude jokes during a waltz to a live string quartet in a five-star restaurant. If there were a more appropriate parallel to Trevor's entire damn personality...
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[And there it is, lost for words again. Trevor's gaze fixes on Adrian's hand, watching his thumb drift over Trevor's dry knuckles (dry, because they're prone to chapping and Sypha's only just introduced him to the concept of moisturizer), painfully aware of how soft Adrian is, how thoughtful and gentle. The difference between them is almost literally night and day, but even after all his obsessing and agonizing over it, Trevor doesn't want this to stop. There's no reason for it to stop, not when for some unfathomable reason, it actually makes the three of them incredibly happy. Mysterious ways, indeed.
Trevor chances meeting Adrian's gaze again -- sharp and golden -- and very nearly loses his nerve. His stomach drops, like staring over the fathoms of a cliff face. What is this terror? He's faced horrific leviathans and undefinable monstrosities, but this? This feels apocalyptic.
Slow, deep breath. Center. He can do this.]
You said... something. And maybe we should define what that means. I wouldn't want to lay all the foundation until Sypha has her say too. But if we can figure out what we are to each other, or what we want to be, maybe that will make the rest of it easier when she gets back.
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[Alucard closes his eyes for a moment, his word absolutely drenched in warmth. Something like this means actually using the word dating, and part of him wants to joke that if this is a first date, everything else is going to pale in comparison.
But no. That would stop the big, grand gestures, and Alucard wants more of those. Perhaps that's too demanding - he doesn't know Trevor's finances, he doesn't know if the Belmont can access his family's wealth really - but he wants them all the same. It's an expression of love and devotion, just like how Alucard makes dinner for everyone, or refuses to let them pay for groceries and the like, or any other basic living expenses. It's his way of taking care of the other two. Saying I love you without ever voicing the words.
Alucard's eyes open. Both of his hands wrap around Trevor's, and the hold on gently.]
I want to keep dating you, Trevor Belmont. I care about you and your well being, and I want you to be happier than you were the day before.
Is that enough of a foundation?
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He was actually doing surprisingly well in that department. Thank God for champagne.
But Trevor smiles. Not a shit-eating grin, not a sideways smirk, but an actual genuine smile, wide and warm and beautiful. There's relief in his posture too, in the way his shoulders relax and he looks as if he can actually breathe again.]
Yes. [And before Adrian's hands can slip away again, Trevor grips them gently and brings both to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to the back of each.] Yes. Thank you.
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God if the kisses don't put a tinge of pink to Alucard's cheeks though, the same way that that smile, one without sarcasm or being a dick nearly lights up the entire room. It's an expression Alucard has never seen cross Trevor's face, and now he'd pay millions to see it at least once every day.]
There's nothing to say thank you for. [His voice is soft, and there's such love in it.] I'm yours and Sypha's. That's all I can truly say.
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[It's almost sentimental, the way Trevor presses his cheek to the back of Adrian's hand; scratchy as always, but warm and oddly affectionate. Trevor would never describe himself as needy, but if there's one thing he always seems to seek out, it's touch; that's probably the worst-kept secret between them. He was practically starved for it before Adrian and Sypha came into his life, and he seems to be making up for the lost time in spades.]
You gave us a home. [Trevor lowers Adrian's hands to the table again, but keeps them laced with his own.] And you don't look half-bad in leggings.
[God forbid he remain vulnerable for more than two minutes.]
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Ah yes. The second and most important part of all.
[Yeah, Alucard didn't expect the vulnerability to stay. He'll rekindle it at home, or at least try to, all soft edges and gentle nudging of Trevor to try and get his way.]
What do you have planned after dinner?
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[There's a moment of well-disguised panic, because he hadn't actually anticipated after dinner. This entire affair -- despite going off without a hitch -- hadn't exactly been planned in advance. It was a whim in the morning that blossomed into overly-confident folly, and part of Trevor hadn't expected Adrian to agree to it. He'd been so concerned about the reservations and securing Adrian's approval, he never considered the after.
Ice cream? A nice walk? What?]
What would you like to do?
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[This is Trevor's plan. His evening. So he gets to call all of the shots, even if Alucard truly doesn't know the extent that Trevor is totally winging it from this point forward. He'd totally believe that if Trevor said so, but for now? Clearly, Trevor knows what he's doing.
There's a soft huff of a laugh, just a puff of noise, and it comes with a tiny smile on the dhampir's face.]
I have to say, I enjoy Trevor the complete gentleman.
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Like hell is he going to admit that, though. Adrian knows him well enough to tell this from... Well, how Trevor normally is, and the fact that he commented on it--
Trevor's trying not to be irked. Because Adrian didn't mean it that way, he's sure; it just feels like he enjoys this Trevor better.
He doesn't get to comment on it one way or the other. Their food is delivered a moment later, and Trevor reluctantly releases Adrian's hands to make room for the plates. Small portions, artistic presentation; some things are a constant with places like this, he supposes.]
I think I prefer your cooking. [Trevor says when their server is out of earshot again, tentatively poking around the plate with his fork. Where is the rest of it? Honestly.]
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The food though? Oh that's wonderful. Alucard knows he's a good cook, but there is the luxury of not cooking, along with the presentation. For only a half a rack of lamb, they've arranged it as a guard of honor and every part of the meat is perfectly rare.]
Only because my portions are more generous, I'm sure.
[He grins at that, taking the steak knife in hand.]
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[There's nothing more to be said for that, really. Adrian has many talents, and Trevor's never seen fit to complain about his cooking. Considering how much he enjoys complaining in general, that's a feat in and of itself.
Though he's doing his best to not complain tonight, and he'd done quite well up until the comment about his steak. He glares through his plate for a few long moments, then resolves to enjoy it anyway, and starts in on his meal. And again, it's not bad; not by half. Tender, well-salted, and perfectly cooked.
Sometimes it really is as simple as deciding not to care. Sometimes, that's an inordinately difficult task, and Trevor cannot for the life of him understand why.]
How is your lamb?
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It isn't a bad recipe. There's thyme all over the lamb in addition to the salt and pepper, along with the barest hint of cumin. And that's the luxury of eating out: new ideas for what to cook at home.][Alucard then reaches for his wine, and swirls it slowly.]
Do you want to try a piece, or are you good?
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[There's that smirk again, practically dripping from Trevor's lips. Because as much as jealousy is a wasted emotion, that hasn't stopped him from casting vaguely-threatening glances around the room for most of the night. He practically welcomes anyone to look at them sideways; he hasn't had a good brawl in a while, and while this is hardly the time or place...
He'd do it. For Adrian or for Sypha, he'd beat someone bloody without question, Michelin five-star rating or no. It's all just part of his charm.]
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[Alucard shakes his head at Trevor. He hasn't missed those glances around the room, and they're nothing that he isn't used to. They do worry him though, that one day he actually will start a fight. There's a terrible difference between being protective versus over possessive, and Trevor's hedging towards the other.
He nudges Trevor gently under the table.]
Stop fussing. Anyone who makes a move isn't worth your time and effort.
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[It's not as if Trevor's any stranger to vigilance, after all, and besides the more obvious preludes, there's always the possibility of something sinister lurking beneath someone's intentions. The Belmonts aren't the only monster-hunting clan in Wallachia, and you don't shack up with the son of Dracula without painting something of a target on your back. Most of the time, it's not an issue, nor does he anticipate it will be, but there's always that chance...
And Adrian needn't be privy to his paranoia, in any case.]
Do you want dessert?
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He's never worried about drawing the ire of others, not really. Some of it is because he is the Son of Dracula, and anyone stupid enough to attack him invites the wrath of Dracula upon their heads. The other is the security of simply being around the other two. It's an overly romantic sentiment, and he doesn't care.]
Please. But only if you'll sit on the same side of the booth with me to share it.
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But his grin softens, and he nods as he finishes off his (woefully scant) steak.]
As you wish. But first--
[The quartet has slowed to an adagio, and the melody suits Adrian, somehow. Who can say exactly how the machinations of Trevor's mind work in this regard, but melancholy strings and Adrian seem inexorably linked. Trevor rounds to Adrian's side of the table, one arm behind his back as he bows slightly and offers his hand to the dhampir.]
Would you honor me with a dance?
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Alucard can feel the heat in his cheeks this time. He expected dancing to take place in the privacy of their own home, where every element could be controlled. He expected to eventually just lean into Trevor and kiss him for all he's worth. But public?
If tonight doesn't make it clear how easily persuaded Alucard is by romantic gestures, nothing ever well.
All Alucard can do is put his hand in Trevor's and then slowly stand - careful not to let any of the beading of his suit jacket get meat juices on it.]
How can I refuse?
[Ah, yes. The other problem. All Alucard wants to do is kiss the Belmont now, sod the dancing.]
And if you'll be so kind as to lead?
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And he hasn't danced in years, so he's fully anticipating this will be a massive disappointment for Adrian. But damnit, he's trying, and he'll embarrass himself just this once if it means rounding out this night properly for Adrian.
It's a short walk to the dance floor, and despite Trevor's boasting, there's not nearly enough space for proper waltzing here. Ah well. He can improvise. One hand at Adrian's waist, the other holding his hand aloft in all the typical fashion, Trevor pauses for a moment with a sheepish grin, trying to pick out a rhythm.]
I haven't done this in years, and you're going to regret accepting this invitation.
[And into a simple step sequence.]
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His hands are cool against Trevor's warmer skin, and he squeezes Trevor's waist for a moment as a means of reassurance.]
I doubt that.
[And so they begin. Alucard's eyes remain on Trevor's face, rather than looking down at their feet. He knows how to waltz, and for all of Trevor's protestations, he's good too. All it is is a moving a little slower to account for the size of the dance floor.]
There. You're doing fine.
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What a sight they must be. Trevor wishes he could see them from the outside, observe this dichotomy of grace. Mostly he wishes he could see Adrian; just watch him dance, because he must be breathtaking. Maybe he can bring Sypha and Adrian back here before their opera date, hang behind while they conquer the dance floor together. Watch. That would be lovely.]
And you. When did you have formal training? [Trevor lifts his brow; he's impressed. Adrian is just full of surprises.]
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[Alucard never expected to actually use the skill. Dancing like this wasn't common in Romania, and no one his age was likely to have learned it unless the family was truly moneyed. So...of course it would be with Trevor. Of course.
It's easy like this. As well as Alucard knows the steps, there's a true joy in letting Trevor lead. That joy has come to be a truth for all of the evening, because precious few things have been in Alucard's control. It's a romantic surrender, and all he wants now is to return home and be on the sofa the two of them, the dhampir simply curled up against Trevor's side, being held.
More than that, he wants to kiss the Belmont. Stupidly, desperately, and with a gentle enthusiasm that's suitable for a spot like this. That's for after the dance is over though, and they're not close to that point yet.]
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You speak of her so often; you make her sound extraordinary.
[As dangerous as it should feel to take any manner of vested interest in Dracula's wife... Well. Trevor's already thoroughly defiled Dracula's son. Surely asking about his childhood was no sin at this point.]
What else did boredom teach you?
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[Lisa Tepes, as much as the years have been unkind to her lately, is a remarkable woman. Not because she's romanced a vampire that's 900 years old, not because of her son, but because of her scientific research and where it can lead medicine in the centuries to come. Alucard and his father have tried to champion her at every moment they've been granted, and it's come with humiliation of late.
But that doesn't exchange how extraordinary her mind is, nor how caring she is to her patients and to her family. There may be a day where it's safe to introduce his mother to both Trevor and Sypha.
It isn't tonight.
Alucard shakes his head a little at the question.]
So much anatomy. I don't advise being the child of doctors, you will have highly specific medical knowledge.
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[Not like vampire hunting. That's decidedly impractical in terms of the modern world, and all Trevor's varied -- near-encyclopedic -- knowledge of how to kill monsters is useless when it comes to actually living, let alone living with himself.
Trevor's grin goes positively vile for a moment.]
That highly specific anatomical knowledge seems to serve you well enough, doesn't it?
[Crude jokes during a waltz to a live string quartet in a five-star restaurant. If there were a more appropriate parallel to Trevor's entire damn personality...
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