The conditioning of Adam’s hands was a subject of its own entirely, where work would have been more properly iterated as being labeled training, both essential and entirely recreational. Mr. Jones was raised during his mortal years to be a warrior of a king, a knight, and even within his immortal life of course once he’d grown strong enough to resist his sire’s influence, well Adam had returned to the kind of life he knew. That was when he’d began serving the Crimson Court as a sort of Keeper, a soldier that protected the Court and also served the Covenant to track down vampires that offended the tenets of the Nightmother. From those days so long passed, all the way up until those current times post-Blood War, Adam had always believed there was reason for him to remain in his absolutely best fighting form. Not to mention the Brit got a privately enjoyed thrill and joy from fighting, of any kind. Clearly a reason he’d thrived so during the major war that had blazed across their world as it was ravaged by the Ferocious.
A silent nod of his head as the pretty vampire seated next to him provided her name, and Adam returned his arm to rest beside him atop the bar he now sat beside more so than at, as he faced his new neighbor that evening. And as she threw out a moniker he’d not heard spoken in quite some time, hazel eyes that had been drifting along the unfamiliar faces around them whipped back to Lorien with a slight wider stare. Without having to say another word this young vampire had clearly already captured Adam’s attention and effectively piped his interest. So much so that Adam barely spared the briefest of glances to the bartender as they checked in to see if either of them were prepared to order something. Mr. Jones simply doubled down and told the bartender to make it two of whatever Lorien had ordered, before his eyes whirled back on her like a magnet. There was the thinnest hint of a smile on his lips, as Adam both tried to restrain himself from looking as curious as he was, and still wanted to remain as friendly as he possibly could.
It was a fairly long story, but Adam sat and listened patiently to it, especially once their drinks had been brought over to them. The vampire sat with one arm propped atop the bar and holding his glass, that he would occasionally raise to sip from. Otherwise he remained sitting to face Lorien and he listened on as she detailed what sounded like it had been a lifetime ago, for the both of them. He could tell by what she said that her sire had truly been an admirer of his, especially it seemed when it came to the fierce reputation Adam had bloodily earned himself on the battlefield. This Jeffery, was not the only person Adam had known of that had traveled along the camps of their armies, in support or admiration of their forces. And in all honesty no ill-feelings had ever been harbored toward any of these onlookers of the gruesome battles that were waged in the Blood War. Not only was it good moral for some of their troops to see such strong and visible support, but those supporters that followed them had at many times shown themselves useful when extra hands were needed to tend the wounded or other matters within the militant camps. And it seemed those onlookers had always been eager to assist their perceived ‘champions’.
There was another perk of Adam’s interest, visible at the mention of a long lock of hair. It was obviously not his own hair, as the super fan Jeffery was likely lead to believe, from what Adam gathered. Mr. Jones had never really sported long hair since his mortal days, so it would have been rather impossible for someone to get their hands on a long lock of his hair. But Mr. Jones had been in possession of a long lock of brown hair, and it had been one of his most prized trinkets until it had been lost to him sometime during the war. There was an urge int Adam to immediately question Lorien on the lock of hair, and if she had any suspicion if this Jeffery still possessed it and where he might be found. But the ancient was able to stifle these urges, because he reasoned to himself the slim chances it was even the same lock of hair, or the chances it was even still within this Jeffery person’s possession.
There was a moment of silence once Lorien concluded her story, and Adam took another small sip of his bloodwine before he lowered the glass gingerly and his eyes followed the drink until it came to a rest on top of the bar, and then his gaze turned to Lorien. ”I’m afraid I must admit I’m embarrassed that you may have ever witnessed any battle of mine,”
he spoke with a slight hint of humor and intended humility resonating within his tones, ”I have met many a fearsome female combatant in my time, yet I am still pressed to believe the battlefield is no place for a lady, especially a battlefield that I occupied,”
he remarked, his hazel eyes darkening for a second in their stare as he seemed to stress the ending that related to any battlefield that housed himself. It was a tough act, being the ‘butcher’, some revered Adam’s brutality on the battlefield, others damned him for his merciless taking of life, and often Mr. Jones found himself caught somewhere in the middle of those two reactions to his own bloody deeds. And it had been intended as a passive compliment that Adam referred to Lorien as a lady, as that night she certainly fit the bill, in her little black dress and looking quite the part of a pretty woman looking to enjoy their evening free of their own responsibilities.
There was the smallest huff of a chuckle as Adam looked off an reflected on other parts of Lorien’s story, his gaze drifted back to her and he clearly felt obligated to explain his tiny outburst of amusement. ”You sound about as relieved as I was the day I could refuse the influence of my sire...,”
he told Lorien with a wide smile that began to quickly fade, ”Be grateful if the worst this Jefferry ever had you do was follow my campaign through that bloody war, as a fledgling can be forced to do far worse things - far more bloodier...,”
his voice was dying off as he succumbed to a momentary flood of memories, but Adam clearly shook himself of such a tidal wave, and he quickly offered his glass by raising it toward to Lorien for what seemed a toast. ”To the day of separation, when a vampire is finally able to be of their own making!,”
he deepened his voice as he offered a sort of toast-worthy snippet, a new smile slipping across his lips as he held his glass to be met by Lorien’s while his hazel eyes looked past the crimson liquid within to the young vampire seated beside him.@Kat