Empire of the Wolf

State of Decay

"Jean-Jacques," Chloé said, walking into the scullery, making Jean-Jacques pause his washing of the dishes to give her his full attention. "I was going to drink some wine tonight, would you like to join me?" She flaunted a heavy bottle of red.

"But I've never-"

"You've been more than old enough for some time, have you not? Of course, I don't want to pressure you if you have no interest," she continued. "I'm aware your situation with your father might make it unconscionable to you."

"That doesn't bother me... at least not very much. If I'm honest I think I would prefer blood to wine though."

Chloé laughed, "I can offer that to you as well."

It came so easily these days, Chloé offering her blood. One wouldn't guess from how casual she was that at first she was incredibly hesitant about it. Jean-Jacques could still remember the first time he'd asked her for some, how it felt like he had pushed her into a corner unintentionally,  one he hadn't even noticed. Her stiff acquiescence in the form of a cup overflowing with blood discomfiting regardless of how basely cloying it had been on his tongue.

"I suppose I will indulge in it if it's with you."

Chloé rolled her eyes at that, beckoning him to follow. He set the dishes aside, wiping his hands on a towel and trailing behind. He would have liked to hold her hand but the one not gripping the neck of the bottle had two glasses hanging from its fingers. Alternatively he could pick her up, though that also seemed ill advised, the sort of thing that would cause her to drop and break something that he would have to clean up.

Chloé brought them to the sitting room, dark but for the fireplace she had lit in advance. Chloé ignored the sofas, bypassing them to sit on the worn rug in front of the fire, black dress fanning out around her like an unfurling flower. Chloé cut a surreal figure in the light, appearing faded at the edges, vanishing into the black lace of the dress where the shadows were deepest.

She placed the glasses down delicately, popping the cork from the bottle with practiced efficiency and filling the glasses to a level bordering on excessive. Jean-Jacques eventually managed to drag himself forward, lowering himself down beside her. The wine glasses and bottle separated them.

"Is this usually how it goes when you drink with someone?" Jean-Jacques furrowed his brows, picking up the glass closest to him.

"I wouldn't know," Chloé shrugged. "I've never had a drinking partner before. This seemed a nice place for it, cosy might be the right word."

"Then I'm honoured to be your first."

"That's so like you." Chloé offered her glass to him. "Cheers, to firsts."

"To firsts."

The ringing of the glasses didn't seem to fade until Jean-Jacques took the first tentative sip of the wine. He had to hold back the urge to scrunch his nose up in distaste. It wasn't nearly as good as he had expected. He didn't understand at all why Chloé had any fondness for it.

"You don't like it," she smiled, seeing right through him. "No need to force yourself if it's as terrible as your face is telling me it is."

Jean-Jacques ducked his head apologetically. "I'll at least make sure not to waste this glass."

"In that case I suppose the job of finishing the bottle falls to me."

"Chloé-!"

"I'm joking, Jean-Jacques, I know how much liquor I can take and a whole bottle might be pushing it. Please relax, I asked you to drink with me so you could. Riling you up is counter-intuitive."