saturday night and the moon is out

[feel_human]

Tucked away off the road in Bon Temps, there's a road house. Warm light spills from its windows, and the sound of a jukebox playing drifts out into the muggy Louisiana night. The regular assortment of trucks and Hail-Mary-please-keep-this-lemon-goin'-just-a-little-longer cars sit in the dirt parking lot; what amounts to about half the town's small population... or, at least, of those of the 'drinking age and above' persuasion.

Inside, it's a bar of the type scattered all across the American South: homey, no-nonsense. Booths and tables. A man in a plaid flannel shirt wiping the bar; a crossdresser in the kitchen singing Gospel hymns and rolling his hips in time with the words just to scandalize the prep cook. A handful of waitresses, bustling about.

Sookie makes her way briskly through it all, a tray balanced on her palm and her eyes kept stubbornly front, as voices swarm around her. Aloud, and... less so.

...I’m just going to have one beer tonight Jesus one beer that’s all...

...better not gripe about me eating fries not after what I did for him last night...

...I cannot wait to get the hell out of this podunk town...

 

 "Well, make sure you do, and before it’s too late," she responds, thoughtless, to the young man. "Because every year you wait? You just get more and more stuck here. Believe me, I know."

He stares at her. So do his parents.

So does the other table. And she realizes, too little too late, that he hadn't said that out loud, not at all. She laughs, uncomfortable. "I’ll get y'all some ketchup," she says, brightly, and flees, ponytail swinging against the nape of her neck as she goes.

Stupid, Sookie, she chides herself. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

 

Comments

[feel_human]

"Uh-huh. But I'm not sure where."

Parts of the old place are overgrown, hard-to-read stones half-covered in moss and vines. She glances up at him. "You want to look around for them?"

[gavemea_45]

"Let's do that on the way back," he suggests. "I'd rather get a look inside the place first."

[feel_human]

"Okay, then."

It would be nice if this were just a stroll through Bon Temps's pretty graveyard, or anything at all like what she'd sort of started planning out in her head before everything went to hell in a handbasket last night, but there's no getting around the real reason they're out here.

At least she's not one to shy from unappealing tasks. "This way."

She leads him along a path that cuts off to the side, bringing them to a gate in the low iron fencing. Sookie lifts a hand to point along the cleared path ahead. "This leads right to it."

[gavemea_45]

"Let me lead the way," he says, and moves to go ahead of her. "Do you have that knife with you? Just in case?"

[feel_human]

Not only did she not bring it, she hadn't even thought about it until just now, and the look on her face makes that thought process crystal clear. "Sorry."

Maybe she wouldn't be able to use it, but he can, that's clear enough. "I could run back and get it?"

[gavemea_45]

She sounds worried. Sam stops and turns to her. "It's okay," he reassures her. "I have another one with me. I just thought you might feel better if you did. You shouldn't need it now, though."

Especially if the vampire truly means her no harm, although like hell is Sam going to trust to that.

[feel_human]

She shakes her head, looking up at him. "Feel better?" she asks, with a surprised little laugh in her voice.

"I feel just fine. I've got you here, don't I?"

[gavemea_45]

Sam looks surprised for a split second before a pleased look lights his eyes and a warm, fond smile curves his mouth.

"You sure do."

[feel_human]

She smiles back. "Okay, then." Lifting her chin, she indicates the path. "Just along that way."

The graveyard path leads them through another stand of trees, then around a wild explosion of shrubbery before they're greeted by a wide expanse of lawn, dotted here and there with tall trees. There's a walk that leads through the grass, up to the cement steps of a large, graceful old white plantation house, its two airy porches stacked one atop the other. Even from here, she can see the window drapes are pulled. "This is it."

[gavemea_45]

"Hm," he says, studying the windows with their light-blocking coverings. The front door has the same, he notices. "Was there supposed to be anyone living here before?"

[feel_human]

She shakes her head, studying the house. "Old Jesse Compton died last year. Far as I know, he didn't have any heirs."

[gavemea_45]

"Uh-huh." Sam scowls at the house. "Okay, let's go."

He leads the way across the yard to the front porch and ascends the steps as quietly as he can, then cat-foots it along the porch to look around the corner toward the back of the house.

[feel_human]

She follows behind him, keeping her steps quiet. It feels strange as hell to be sneaking around like this in the light of day, like they're playing at being cat burglars, but she doesn't need to hear Sam's thoughts to know he's deadly serious about it all.

But nothing appears, and the house gives up none of its secrets. No visible ones, anyhow.

[gavemea_45]

There's no sign of life, or undeath either, for that matter. Sam checks the other side, and considers going around back to look for a cellar entrance, but decides against it for now.

Either the vampire's not there, asleep, or a daywalking problem. Odds are best on the first two, but they'll be careful anyway.

He moves back to the front door, nods to Sookie to stay to the side, and tries it to see if it's locked.

[feel_human]

She keeps to the side of the door and watches as he tries the knob, without success. The door's locked up tight, and when she shifts to the side to try a window, that is, too.

Glancing back at Sam, she lifts her eyebrows: what now?

[gavemea_45]

He holds up a finger, signaling her to wait, and digs his picklocks out of the inside flap of his wallet.

Sam inserts them in the lock and goes to work, listening carefully to hear the tumblers fall.

[feel_human]

She gives him a lightly scandalized glance, but holds her tongue and waits in silence as he works at the lock.

[gavemea_45]

One by one, the tumblers click, and the lock gives way. The door swings open. Sam hastily puts his tools away and pushes it wider, scanning the interior in the available light.

[feel_human]

The door opens to a wide, bare hall. Rooms lay off to the side, and a staircase climbs up against the wall, leading up to the second floor. The house is cool and quiet – and empty.

She peers inside, but can hear nothing, not with either her ears or any other sense.

[gavemea_45]

"Stay behind me," Sam mouths to her, and pulls a miniature penlight from his back pocket. He switches it on and leads the way through the door, starting to clear the ground floor first, room by room.

[feel_human]

She nods, and follows him, creeping like a mouse.

The ground floor seems to be mainly living areas: there's a large, high-ceilinged room with sofas and side tables, set up like a sitting room around a big old-fashioned fireplace. The hearth is cold, but there are fresh ashes in it, and several books and a radio sit out on the coffee table, along with a few battery powered lamps and candles.

There's an enormous dining room with a large table in pride of place, and an old-fashioned kitchen that looks clean, if untouched, and then an assortment of closets and pantries, all of which are neat and empty.

[gavemea_45]

Sam crouches down by the fireplace and stirs the ashes slightly, then shakes his head and goes to the table to examine the candle wicks and books.

"Looks like someone's been spending time here at night," he breathes, quietly still.

[feel_human]

"Well, I guess that would make sense," she murmurs, just barely audible. "If he really is stayin' here."

The house is empty, sure, and quiet, but it doesn't seem shut up the way it ought to be, if no one has been here in a year.

[gavemea_45]

"Even if he has been he may not be here now." Not now that he knows a hunter's in town, anyway. "But let's finish the sweep. Upstairs next."

[feel_human]

She follows him up the graceful old staircase and winces at every squeaky board, but the upstairs proves as empty as the down. Here, too, the rooms are furnished, sparsely but with a hint of luxury. Like the king-sized, four-poster bed and its rich coverings, or the clawfoot tub in the bathroom.

There's even soap and shampoo, which Sookie looks at, curious. "Guess I never thought a vampire would need to wash their hair."

The bedroom contains a closet in which hang several neatly-pressed shirts and slacks, and a bureau which holds shirts like the one Bill had been wearing last night.