Titus Wakes Up and Yells at Things (Complete)

((Taking place after House Call, obviously! Not 100% sure what Bec's allowed to do around the Villa, but he sure is here~))

With one gloved hand cupped under the cluster of leaves, Dr. Bec carefully, meticulously, ever-so-gently pinched the glistening berry clear of its stem and—

Plop. It bounced off his lap and rolled deeper into the bushes, out of sight.

“Oh,” he said. He tried again.

Plop. Squish. Plop.

Finally, he abandoned his bungled attempts at finesse, gripped and twisted off a full sprig from the plant and held it before his beaked mask, squinting through glass lenses. The plump, blue-black berry hung from the twig, wreathed by a star of unfurled leaves. He stared at the berry and tried to remember its purpose.

His medical bag was gone; this he knew. Ashes, like the château. It was so difficult to do his job without his supplies—his instruments, his cutting tools, his bandages, his pills and solutions, his clever little needles and things—but he could make do with the old remedies, as long as he scavenged what he needed. He didn’t care for the woods, so he rarely ventured far. He clung to the shadows of the Villa’s mossy, ivy-choked perimeter and pawed around its weed-thick gardens for what herbs and flowers and leaves and roots he recalled the name and application of. Had to do his job, after all. Yes? Yes. Of course.

He managed to separate the berry from the stem without dropping it and stared some more.  Oh. Nightshade, that was it. But which type? There were two, weren’t there, that looked quite alike? One grew in bunches, the other—this one—in a solitary fashion. One was Good, the other Very Bad.

Well, surely he would find out which variety it was if he gave it to a thrall?

He was sounding out their binomial names as best as he could remember them, hoping that would somehow help straighten out this mystery, when—

Gladys listened with real interest to Bec's list of medical supplies. She only recognized a few of the words, and then he was off saying names for things she couldn't even imagine. Maybe she could help him look for the bag... unless it was miles and miles away somewhere, wherever this strange, sad vampire had come from. Or she could have him could draw pictures and they could look for replacements... She very much doubted his ability to heal, but she had seen his skill in effectively and precisely ripping apart a human, which was more in the vein (haha) of what she was interested in.

Ah, there was that name again. Gauthier. Bec's master, supposedly. He sat down hard and Gladys frowned a bit, hating that she felt such sympathy for the lad, but unable to stop the feeling. When it appeared he was unable to continue speaking, and Titus was eager to leave—not only leave, but had implied that she should go with him—Gladys was more than happy to leave Bec alone.

Still though... She reached out her hand, hesitated, and then patted Bec gently on the head before turning and following Titus inside.

Gladys.exe cannot execute process "comfort"

The transformation was amazing; Titus went from vaguely engaging in conversation to animated and lively, catching Gloria up in his arms and excitedly greeting her with his overly complicated manner of speech.



Gladys could only watch quietly, hands bunched in her skirt, unsure if she should leave them alone, though he had said 'walk with us.'



Of course he liked Gloria. This shouldn't have been a surprise. It was impossible to hate Gloria with her beautiful, kind face and helpful attitude and pretty dresses and beautiful, long golden hair... Gladys frowned a bit. She wanted to hate her, but she just couldn't bring herself to.
Even when she realized what a suck-up Gloria was being to Asher when Bec had arrived she couldn't muster resentment. Gloria was just so... nice. And deep down Gladys knew that she would be doing the exact same thing if she were in Gloria's place. She was already attempting to do just that.
She looked down at her rags and really knew how outclassed she was. Who did she presume to be, trying to befriend this bearded gentleman who spoke with beautiful words like a song?
She felt like a child caught playing dress up, suddenly thrust into an adult's world, albeit an ageless, more violent one. Faking it in every way, and not even well at that.
Perhaps she should just leave after all...

Gladys snapped out of her reverie in time to cover up that it had even been happening at all.



"Ah, yes! Well, no, we've not been introduced properly," Gladys stammered, trying to smile through her doubt and insecurity.

Gloria had said too much, but it could not be helped. Titus would have found out eventually who Gladys' sire was, it was best that they addressed it now. Naive as she was, Gladys could recognize a look of panic, and she was quick to reassure the large man.



Now if only she could find out what was meant by a trance...

If Gladys had been more level-headed, more conniving with a greater desire to control than to make actual bonds, then perhaps she would have used this very obvious demonstration of a weak point to gain control over this man. But as it was, she was none of those things in any significant amount, and so she remained in silent shock for a moment while she processed this new information through her double standards.
Killed a human? This poised man? But he seemed so in control, so considerate—gentle even.
No wonder he smelled so good...
Gladys’ mind searched for any possible explanation that would excuse Titus from this great rudeness. “Surely you were hungry, yes? Starving, even?” she hoped aloud, lightly gripping her own fingers. This was different than the time with Bec. She liked Titus, he lived in the Villa even though he seemed not to be related to Asher, he got on well with Gloria—she had every reason to give him the benefit of the doubt.

(Full disclosure: Jana art is perfect, 10/10)

Gladys scurried after Titus, faster and faster, until she was nearly jogging after him, having to take nearly a full two steps for every one that Titus took. Stupid menfolk with their stupid long legs—what part of the world were there even men so big? Maybe he was trying to outrun her, maybe he no longer wanted to talk. Her following changed from annoyed trotting along to a slower gait, frozen up by doubt. Then suddenly, in the midst of all her mental turmoil, Titus had stopped, and Gladys stopped a few paces behind him.
He circled her—slow, methodical—and gestured at a painting that she hadn’t really ever noticed before.

"What do you think of this painting?"

It seemed an abrupt change in subject, but she knew it was foolishness to challenge an older vampire over anything. Alright, she'd play his game.
Looking up at the painting she knew immediately that this was a test, but of what she couldn't begin to guess. Ice formed in her gut—she was going to lose this game. She had no idea what he wanted to say, so all she could do was give her honest opinion.
Fighting down her urge to make excuses and escape this uncomfortable situation, she stood her ground and looked up at the art work. First she squinted at it, then turned her head slightly this way, then that...

"It's... nice. Certainly I couldn't make something like that, I don't even know how such a thing is accomplished. Magic, perhaps?"
She stepped closer to it, and closer still, marveled how she could see the brush strokes close up, but when she stepped back it looked... like a thing.
Brush strokes.
Potato.
"I like the small details, the little bugs hidden here," she pointed to a small insect on the table. "I know those very flowers, even dried, I can tell you their names them based on this, this thing that is not a thing." She was hitting the limits of her vocabulary in trying to express herself and it was beyond frustrating. "It makes me miss food," she softly added. Then, even quieter, "It looks a bit like my table..."
With that she fell into silence, biting her lower lip and clutching her hands together at her chest, not expecting to have feelings from a painting. Gathering her courage she looked askance at Titus to judge his reaction, still not sure if she'd said anything right.