reposing | a world without logos

a world without logos | stoneup

The conclusion of the mission in the heart of Paris had finished by Alucard's lone hand -- technically, in any case. The building in which Millennium was inhabiting and running tests, evidently, had already seen its blood bath from someone else: one of their own, more or less. Alucard returned to the Hellsing manor with the blonde-haired vampire, covered in dried blood and wearing clothes that don't fit him, scrubs and a lab coat -- and a giant scar on his chest that he could not hide.

The vampire's name is Adrian. Beyond being a pet project, he doesn't remember anything else outside of a life of Millennium. It begins there, and ended with circumstances Alucard only described in a laugh and a Don't interrupt his reading time.

The elusive new vampire is not seen for another day. Then, as if he has always belonged in Hellsing manor, he walks the halls with a regal elegance, fully dressed this time and certainly much more put together. There is almost always a suspicious look in his golden gaze, skeptical as he looks at most people, but significantly less lost than when he'd first arrived.

Reluctantly, he does approach one Trevor Belmont, a book under one arm.

"Alucard has instructed me that I should be introducing myself to the rest of the organization," Adrian says, sounding bland and distant.

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"You can like someone and still know they're probably drowning themselves in alcohol," he points out, glancing over at Alucard once he's finished the second beer.

The warm flush across Adrian's cheeks -- suits him, Trevor things with only mild distress as he finishes up his own drink.

"Not everyone drinks beer for the flavor." Arguably, there were few young men who started drinking beer because they enjoyed the taste. It seemed like something you grew into, in some ways. Or ... grew tolerant of, maybe.

He kicks out a foot in front of him and leans back in his chair as Adrian sits down.

"So, 'Adrian' -- what's your story?" He knows the 'official' story, but that was hardly ever the real one.

"He was kind to me," Adrian mutters, feeling oddly relaxed. Ah, he realizes. He hadn't been certain how alcohol would interact with him, but. Well, now he knows. It's not a bad sensation, but he's never felt like this either. Decades in Millennium and he's never even had a taste or inclination.

Adrian puts his hand on his book, feeling his fingers over the pages, as if it offers him comfort. "I don't understand," he says. "Weren't you given a report of some kind?"

~~Adrian, does Trevor really look like the kind of guy who either cares to or knows how to read?~~

He notes the way that the blond touches the book, as if it's got some sort of special significance to him. "Reports are just words on a page. You really don't listen when people ask you things, do you?"

Or maybe he really is just an isolated lab rat, but -- well, Trevor doubts it. Nobody's life is that boring, right?

"I listen perfectly fine. And when I don't, someone makes sure. Isn't that the way of it?" Adrian asks flatly.

"Alucard found me after I killed everyone in that laboratory. And I would do it again. My only regret is that I didn't do it sooner. I don't-- remember anything else, but them. Their experiments, if you could call them that. If I had a life before Millennium, I don't recall it."

Words that come easier with the drink. Words that, probably, he'd have kept to himself if otherwise asked.

"If you're lucky enough to always have someone to make sure for you, yeah. Big fucking gamble to take, you ask me."

He does listen to what Adrian says, though, and when he speaks about not remembering anything before Millenium, Trevor lets out a 'tch' sound through his teeth and uncaps another bottle of beer for himself. There's still more in the crate, but he does't pass another one to Adrian just now.

"Well, shit. I don't think anyone here would've complained about you doing it sooner, either."

He does, though, take a long sip of his own beer.

Edited (Words MiSsInG) 2019-02-13 06:05 (UTC)

"It wasn't luck. They would hurt me when I did something they didn't like or approve of." The tone used is quiet, thoughtful. He knows that Alucard and Seras don't hurt him, and if Alucard trusts these people including Integra, then that is enough for Adrian.

He takes the book and looks down at the cover.

"It would have been nice. But my circumstances now are good. Better than I would have imagined for myself."

As soon as Adrian admits to that kind of upbringing from Millenium, his brows crease together with -- concern? Is that what it is? -- and he wonders when he'll stop putting his foot in his mouth.

Never, if his track record is anything to go by. He frowns.

"Well. Better late than never. You've just got plenty to make up for, then." That's -- supposed to be encouraging. He's not their leader just yet for a reason.

That does earn a raise of Adrian's brow. It's, perhaps, not the best, but at the same time it's more care than he's experienced through the last few decades. So, with mild amusement he asks, "Are you trying to be encouraging, Belmont?"

Adrian sounds far from offended, and instead almost looks like he could smile. It doesn't quite happen, but at least he's a step away from a resting bitch face now.

"There are a lot of things I haven't done. I'd never properly seen the outside until I agreed to leave with Alucard. A clear view of the night sky, or the lights of London in the evening." Wryly, he adds, "I also haven't killed enough of Millennium yet."

"Don't sound so surprised. Mercenaries have feelings too, you know." Mostly feelings like 'violent', 'drunk', and 'horny', but still! Loyalty was threaded through his veins for his group, and so far Hellsing had treated them well. That was as much as he needed to treat them with at least professional courtesy.

He smirks, though. "Well, I'm sure we'll all be knee deep in their bodies before long and you'll be at least temporarily satisfied."

The more he talks with this Adrian fellow, the more that he finds himself intrigued with him. It's -- going to be problematic, if things progress as they are right now -- he ought not to be thinking about whether the things Adrian needs to catch up on are falling into a man's bed, after all. He takes another thoughtful swig of his beer.

"That seems rather unlikely." The tone that Adrian takes is almost a teasing one rather than snippy, and he isn't serious about the remark in the least. Quite honestly, everyone here has been far more humane. Not that it takes much, he supposes; even he knows his circumstances were extreme.

Adrian snorts. "As fun as that might be, I want to know more about everything else as well."

There's a pause, and almost shyly he adds, "Alucard mentioned a museum. It sounds nice. Though I suppose a mercenary wouldn't have any real interest in that."

It's funny how easy it is to fall into banter sometimes, isn't it? Trevor's smirk turns just a hint wicked.

"If you stick around, I'm sure you'll find out just how I feel, Adrian." He hadn't meant for that to come out as innuendo laced as it had, but neither was he going to backpedal on it any now that it was out there. Instead, he barrels forward with the conversation, considering his options.

"Mm. So long as you're not going to make me comment on the nuanced history of the exhibit, I think I'd survive." Most museums had weapons exhibits, after all, and spending time with Adrian had it's appeal.

The remark and-- flirtation? It earns a puzzled looking frown from Adrian, and it doesn't do anything to help detract from the flush that's already on his face from the two drinks he downed way too fast earlier.

But the conversation keeps going, and he blinks, deciding that he's definitely just. Going to leave that alone. He doesn't really have the social graces to know what to do with that anyway.

"The only history I know is what I've read. You'd likely be safe from that," Adrian muses. "So you would... go with me?"

The flush, he thinks, is rather charming. He's content for now to drop the flirtatious content of the conversation, if not the tone -- he's not one to fully leave well enough alone, unfortunately for Adrian.

"With you? Yeah, sure." He's restless by nature, and even he can only spend so many hours drinking casually before it starts to get old.

With... him. That sounds odd to him, but it does make his ears burn slightly. Oddly enough, he's more used to more lewd remarks, something that was not terribly uncommon. Some of the flirting goes over his head, some of it does not, and it's still confusing overall.

Ah, but it's because of how he looks, he supposes. He's been told that.

"I'll-- speak to Alucard. About that." The words are murmured, and he halfway wants to shove his face against his book, as if that'll make him feel better.

How he looks certainly doesn't hurt matters -- but in truth, Trevor is equally as curious about the newest vampire addition to Hellsing for reasons that are far more closely related to his mystery past, and to his lack of family. It's ... Relatable.

"Sure, you do that. We'll just have to think of something else to do in the meantime." And Trevor...can think of many things they could do, especially as he continues to drink. Watch out, Alucard. He's...looking at the vampire more appreciatively than appraisingly, at least. A look, not a leer.

The look isn't bad. Leering, he's used to. Whether because of how he looks, or the scientific interest -- something like that, he's more adjusted toward. But Alucard looks at him like a person, Trevor looks at him with a different interest. It's... weird.

But not unwelcome.

"What do you do between assignments? Besides drinking."

He does his best to not ask whether there was in fact much more that was much more fun than drinking in between assignments, but that's not strictly true.

Fine, he can give Adrian a straight answer.

"This -- Talk, mostly. Usually with the boys, but I've heard so many of their stories over and over..." He chuckles. "And I'm sure they could use a break from mine, so I guess you're going to be stuck with me for a while."

Stories. Adrian doesn't think he really has any he could share that would be interesting or fun, admittedly. He's self-aware in regard to that. None of it is nice or pleasant.

"You're all right," he decides to say, because it's true so far, even if Trevor seems a bit like a ruffian but he's still not horrible. "Then tell me one. A story. ...Your favorite place you've been."

Trevor doesn't have many pleasant stories from his childhood, but joining the mercinaries had afforded him at least a handful of fond memories. That doesn't mean that the fondest of them aren't still at least tangentially related to where he grew up, in Romania.

He leans in toward Adrian, both so he can speak more softly and because it gives him an excuse to be a little closer.

"Hm. We had a mission in Moldova, a few years back. Ended up having to retreat up into the mountains, and holed up in a monestary in Orhei Vechi...for weeks. I thought I'd hate it, but those priests were some of the funniest, most alcoholic assholes that I think we've ever run into, and the mountainside was ... Breathtaking. Reminded me of where I was born, sans all the baggage."

When Trevor leans in, Adrian takes it as a cue to do the same. Curiously, he listens; he wonders how the mountainside might look outside of pictures.

"Where were you born?" he asks, voice soft. He doesn't remember having a childhood, personally, but it is a shame that it was also stolen from Trevor. Stolen from all of them, it seems.

He's not at all put off when Adrian leans in in turn, even as one knee bumps against the vampire's. Talking about his childhood is rarely easy, but it's gotten more natural with time.

"Romania," he says carefully, rolling the first "r" with some flourish. "Haven't been back there in decades, and I'm planning to keep it that way."

He's some flavor of undesirable citizen there anyway, he's fairly certain.

"It's not like I miss all the fucking rain, anyway."

The contact, basic as it is, is almost jolting. Not that Adrian moves away, but there is some tension he isn't certain he knows what to do with. But he listens and he... thinks he can envision it, the damp cold air, the mountains, Targoviste--

Adrian jerks his head up, feeling off. He doesn't remember being to Romania, but he has a sense of deja vu.

"Vorbiți românește?" he rolls out naturally.

Curious and curiouser. There aren't many people who speak Romanian outside of the country, at least -- willingly, with the ease of a native speaker. Trevor blinks, visibly startled, but replies carefully, "S-ar putea să fiu puțin ruginită. E mai bine decât francezul meu."

The words feel strange in his mouth, heavier than he remembers them being. It really has been some time since he's spoken it much.

"Sună bine."

It feels... natural to speak it. Despite how many years around the Germans, Adrian doesn't have their accent, and he is familiar with all three languages. Yet, there is an anxiety in him, that he knows this but doesn't know why.

"Belmont isn't very Romanian."

His gaze flickers to Adrian's face once the vampire switches back to English. He won't comment on it, really, but there's something -- softer, then, about the way he speaks. He smiles, something more genuine that just touches the corners of his lips.

"Well. My family went to Romania from France, a few generations back." Retrospectively, probably a poor move. Things hadn't exactly gone well for them there.

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