"Sure, why not?" you say. L.J. waves his fingers and the waitress nods acknowledgement.
"So, tell me about yourself," you say.
"Whaddaya wanna know?"
"You don't strike me as a local. Where you from?"
L.J. snorts. "Not a local?! This is London, ain't no such thing as a local. We got people from Australia, China, India...hell, you're about the first actual Londoner I seen in MONTHS!" L.J roars with laughter.
"Truth is," he continues, "I never was that content with settlin' down. Some Kindred are, livin' in their big ol' spooky castles, but me, I ain't never been to a place I didn't feel like movin' out of after a time. Guess I'm a wanderer at heart."
"Where were you when you...y'know..."
"Got bit?!" L.J. roars with laughter again. "I was over in Louisiana. It was... hell, don't time pass quick when you're immortal?... 1848. I was a slave in a cotton plantation. Third generation slave. I didn't know anything different, just wake up, pick the cotton, go to sleep. I was kinda happy, we all did the best we could to enjoy our lives, even if we didn't own them." The waitress comes over with two drinks, and you get a strange aching in your gut as you stare at the vitae in the glasses.
"Were you married?"
"Yeah." L.J.'s eyes glaze over slightly and he stares down at his drink. "Her name...her slave name...was Jenny. She was real purty. Smoothest skin in all the Southern states. I always said that if she had been born white, there wouldna' been a guy in the whole the state who woulda passed her up as a wife. As it was, she settled for a poor ol' slave." L.J. sighed. ""We had kids too..." L.J. tails off and he stops speaking.
"You miss 'em?"
"Every day. Every goddam day." L.J. sits up and looks you in the eye. "But I got chose for this life, an there ain' no point in complainin' y'hear? We got a gift. I seen some who can' tek it, 'n' they stake themselves out in the sun, or they go insane 'n' let the Beast take over. Thats a sure way to get yerself hunted by angry mobs.
"Say, it seems like you're fixin' up to make a night of it! You seem like a good kid. You want I should call the waitress over again? We could share her, talk awhile, hell, we could tear this town up!" |