Daimon alights on his friend’s window sill, content to sit on it, legs dangling, until such a time as the man might notice his guest.
Raleigh Montague wasn’t in his office, but enters it shortly after, flicking on the light to notice the shadow on the windowsill. He knocks on the pane.
Daimon looks back over his shoulder. “Evenin’.”
Raleigh Montague opens the pane. “Evening, Daimon.” He leaves the window open, beckoning, as he goes to his desk.
Daimon swings his legs inside and stands. “Wondered if you’d be in tonight and all.”
Raleigh Montague sits on the edge of his desk. “I’m usually in most nights.” His voice is a little wry. “I think I spend half my life in the guild, if I’m being honest. Cigarette?”
Daimon says with an Uberwaldean accent: Sure.
Daimon walks up to the desk, trying hard not to prowl.
Daimon says with an Uberwaldean accent: Bloody full moon.
Daimon sits on the desk.
Raleigh Montague grins, pushing his cigarette case towards the vampire. He points to another cigarette case on the desk, in plastic. “Don’t take those cigarettes. I confiscated those.”
Raleigh Montague helpfully says: They’re those exploding ones from the joke shop.
Daimon snickers and makes certain to get one from the right pack. “Yeah, that’d freak me out, night like this, for sure.”
Raleigh Montague amusedly says to Daimon: Alaia. And friend.
Raleigh Montague says: But mostly Alaia.
Daimon lights it with a spark springing frmom a thumb. “I believe it. Alaia bein’, well, Alaia.”
Raleigh Montague nods, taking a cigarette himself, before getting off the desk and wandering over to his little liquor cabinet. “No point offering you a drink, I suppose?”
Daimon says with an Uberwaldean accent: Not unless as you got some willing lady with a good neck in there, no.
Raleigh Montague pauses. “Thankfully, no.”
Daimon asks with an Uberwaldean accent: But speaking of, how’s it going with you and the lady?
Raleigh Montague casually asks: What lady?
Daimon says with an Uberwaldean accent: The one as whose scent is all over your coat.
Daimon says with an Uberwaldean accent: Not meaning to pry though. Just, I notice these things, particularly when as the moon is full.
Raleigh Montague laughs as he settles down with a small brandy, and his cigarette. “Right. Well, things are well, I suspect.” He toasts you with his glass. “For a given definition of well.”
Daimon toasts back with an imaginary glass. “Good news. I like her perfume.”
Raleigh Montague cradles his glass and cigarette in his long fingers, and grins. “How are you? Apart from the whole full moon thing.”
Daimon asks with an Uberwaldean accent: Life’s good. Got a good chick, great kid, nice place… Keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, you know that feeling?
Raleigh Montague considers this. “Not really, but I’ll take your word for it.”
Raleigh Montague says: Speaking of shoes dropping, though.
Daimon asks with an Uberwaldean accent: Yeah?
Raleigh Montague says: Our vampiress is back in the city, I hear, with her entourage.
Daimon rolls his eyes.
Daimon says with an Uberwaldean accent: Great. Bloody fantastic. She scared the shit out of Arianna last time, roughed her up and all.
Raleigh Montague raises an eyebrow. “Why?”
Daimon says with an Uberwaldean accent: Because of me. Dabria hates me. I dumped her.
Raleigh Montague leans back in his chair and rests his feet on his desk. “Ah.”
Raleigh Montague thoughtfully says: And there, I suppose, is the rub.
Daimon sighs. “Yeah. What the hell did she expect… All she ever wanted was to told how awesome she is, chicks like that get boring fast.”
Daimon says with an Uberwaldean accent: This was a century or more ago, you’d think she’d get over it.
Raleigh Montague smokes his cigarette thoughtfully. “What are you going to do?” He blows a smoke ring. “Because the last time she visited the city you were a little freaked out about your family’s safety, and considering how events have played out, I can’t say I blame you.”
Raleigh Montague easily says: Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.
Daimon sighs. “I don’t know what I -can- do. It ain’t illegal, being a vampire in Ankh-Morpork.”
Raleigh Montague asks: No, and you can hardly stay home to babysit your family all day. Besides, doesn’t your girlfriend go to work as well?
Daimon says with an Uberwaldean accent: Yeah, she’s with the Thieves’ Guild.
Daimon says with an Uberwaldean accent: There ought to be something one could do about her being assaulted but she says the watch won’t care.
Raleigh Montague finishes his cigarette. “She might be right, although there are things you could do.”
Daimon says with an Uberwaldean accent: … Keep talkin’.
Raleigh Montague opens a drawer and takes out a box, from which he takes a red-edged card. “Go see him over the weekend, preferably after two or three in the morning, if you can manage it. Say Montague sent you.” He glances at you. “I use their services myself from time to time. They’ll keep an eye on her and your child, until such time they don’t need to, and step in when they have to.” He pauses. “And no, she won’t know they’re there.”
Raleigh Montague says: Tell them to send me the bill.
Daimon looks at the card. “Kinda whacked, assassin sending me somewhere else for killers…”
Raleigh Montague grins lazily. “Can’t be everywhere at once.”
Daimon pockets the card all the same. “Three in the morning ain’t no problem for me. These guys, are they from home? ‘Cause I don’t want to get staked by accident.”
Raleigh Montague shakes his head. “Morpork born and bred; they do business with all sorts. If you’re there, it’s because you were referred. That’s how they work. Word of mouth.”
Daimon nods. “Thanks, man. I do appreciate it. Back home I’d know how to deal with this, but here…” He gestures vaguely at the window. “This city is cool for the undead, too damn cool, ’cause no one will do a thing until there are corpses in the morgue.”
Raleigh Montague finishes his drink and nods. “The watch are decent for the most part, under Vimes, but even they can’t find killers who don’t want to be found. That’s the whole point of it, I suppose, and in a city of this size and magnitude, anybody can hide.” He grins. “I mean, look at me, hiding in plain sight.”
Daimon nods. “Yeah, true. It’s just… I’m used to being the scary thing in the night. I don’t much like being on the other end, I guess.”
Raleigh Montague drily says: Welcome to love.
Daimon face palms at himself.
Daimon says with an Uberwaldean accent: Night like this, all I wanna do is chase somebody through the woods and rip them apart. Pity Dabria ain’t around.
Daimon says with an Uberwaldean accent: I could do chasing her.
Raleigh Montague says to Daimon: I think you chased her enough, old chap.
Raleigh Montague says: That’s why this is all happening.
Daimon says with an Uberwaldean accent: Yeah, well, I’d like to chase her just one more time. Her and me, alone in the woods, whoever still has a head in the end wins.
Daimon says with an Uberwaldean accent: ‘Sides, she weren’t even all that.
Raleigh Montague says: I’ll take your word for it. I’m not fond of vampiresses myself.
Daimon says with an Uberwaldean accent: Me either. My mum first, then that one, kinda got me over them fast.
Raleigh Montague grins. “I bet they did.”
Daimon flicks the butt of his cigarette out the window. “Tell me about your chick. Tell me about a nice normal woman as don’t like to start her day with flaying the maid.”
Raleigh Montague lights another cigarette. “She’s not my chick.” He laughs. “I’m just starting to get to know her.”
Raleigh Montague asks: She has good taste in perfume?
Daimon says with an Uberwaldean accent: I liked it.
Daimon says with an Uberwaldean accent: Whether -I- got good taste though…
Raleigh Montague amusedly says: That’s worth noting.
Daimon says with an Uberwaldean accent: Folks always tell me I ain’t got no taste. It takes a man to wear pink, that’s all I’m saying.
Raleigh Montague says: Or several men to, if they’re graduates of this guild.
Raleigh Montague says: I hasten to add that I own zero pink things.
Raleigh Montague lazily says: Grey being my preferred colour of choice.
Daimon wrinkles his nose. “Pink frilly underwear ain’t what I mean. Wear it proudly. In sight.”
Raleigh Montague flatly says: I’d rather not.
Daimon says with an Uberwaldean accent: Mine’s crimson. But I never wear it ’cause when I do, I look like… well, like the old days.
Raleigh Montague says: I believe the frills are – er – optional.
Daimon says with an Uberwaldean accent: I wear pink because it makes me look harmless.
Daimon says with an Uberwaldean accent: Nobody’s scared of a coffee drinking vampire in a pink teeshirt.
Raleigh Montague says: Unless you’re afraid of pink and coffee makes you hallucinate.
Daimon chuckles. “Yeah, maybe.”
Raleigh Montague grins. “Anyway, I know why you do it. It doesn’t bother me.”
Daimon says with an Uberwaldean accent: Prize I pay to be a contributing member o’ society.
Daimon says with an Uberwaldean accent: Met someone today as really has his looks about him though.
Daimon says with an Uberwaldean accent: Bronze skin, jewellery, piercings, oiled muscles, make-up, the works.
Daimon asks with an Uberwaldean accent: Most boy seamstresses are more discreet, you know?
Raleigh Montague considers this. “Actually, I do not know.” He grins. “I take it you enjoyed looking?”
Daimon says with an Uberwaldean accent: Naw, I’m not really into boys unless I’m hungry as heck.
Raleigh Montague doesn’t even raise an eyebrow at this statement. “Right.”
Daimon says with an Uberwaldean accent: He were complaining that chicks don’t notice him. I were like… Stop dating blind chicks.
Raleigh Montague laughs. “Quite, quite.”
Daimon stretches his legs and steals another cigarette.
Raleigh Montague absentmindedly helps himself to one of the joke ones.
Daimon keeps silent.
Raleigh Montague lights his cigarette and puffs thoughtfully. “So. What else is up with you? Been at the pits lately?”
Daimon says with an Uberwaldean accent: Met a fairy in the mountains last time I went out to hunt proper.
Raleigh Montague raises an eyebrow, even as his cigarette emits little clouds of black smoke, looking very much like a smoking chimney on its last legs. He groans and flicks it into the fireplace, where it explodes with a hiss and a crackle into the fire. “That bloody Alaia.”
Daimon laughs. “Wish I had an impstomatic!”
Raleigh Montague laughs as well. “Yeah, yeah.”
Daimon says with an Uberwaldean accent: Of course she pisses me the hell off when she’s trying to convince Ari that I’m bad for her.
Raleigh Montague grins as he leans back in his chair. “She’s acquainted with your girlfriend then?”
Daimon groans. “They’re best buddies.”
Raleigh Montague sympathetically says to Daimon: My sympathies.
Daimon says with an Uberwaldean accent: Thanks. She’s convinced I’m the worst thing ever.
Raleigh Montague says: I hasten to point out that she may, of course, be right.
Raleigh Montague says: Statistically, you might well turn out to be the worst thing ever.
Daimon shrugs. “I’m pretty damn domesticated by now.”
Raleigh Montague says: Then you should just do the dishes.
Raleigh Montague says: In Alaia’s face.
Daimon grins at the other man. “It drives her batty when I clean around her.”
Raleigh Montague laughs. “See? There’s your secret weapon.”
Daimon says with an Uberwaldean accent: I keep my mouth shut because she were there for Ari when I were not.
Raleigh Montague nods. “She’s a pain and a pest, and I wouldn’t wish her on any teacher or House Master but she is loyal to a fault and brave, and I think those are good qualities.”
Daimon says with an Uberwaldean accent: Yeah. That’s why I don’t tell her to fuck off.
Daimon says with an Uberwaldean accent: ‘Sides, it ain’t every little chick who dares tell me off to my face.
Raleigh Montague grins. “Alaia dares tell anybody off. I think it’s part of her charm.”
Raleigh Montague says: She’s certainly won your boss over.
Daimon asks with an Uberwaldean accent: Yeah?
Raleigh Montague says: Not Her Ex. His Ex.
Raleigh Montague nods. “They are friends, I suspect.”
Daimon asks with an Uberwaldean accent: Really? Wouldn’t have thought it of the anaemic guy. Ain’t she a bit young for him?
Raleigh Montague says: Now I just want her to develop an unhealthy interest in languages and end up in d’Ackerley’s class.
Raleigh Montague says to Daimon: Friends. With a capital F. d’Ackerley would never cheat on his wife.
Daimon blows a smoke ring. “That’s unusual for noble blokes.”
Raleigh Montague says: Not unusual for that couple.
Daimon says with an Uberwaldean accent: Her Pozness is something, yeah. I never dared hit on her, you know. She’s too classy for me.
Raleigh Montague grins at you. “So classy is the Daimon repellent eh?”
Daimon says with an Uberwaldean accent: Hah.
Daimon says with an Uberwaldean accent: In a way. There’s some chicks where as you know that they ain’t interested in slumming.
Raleigh Montague laughs as he tries to imagine Lady d’Ackerley ‘slumming’. “I suspect you might be right.”
Raleigh Montague says: Besides, those two are well suited. Both old money, for a start.
Daimon nods knowingly. “Seem happy enough. Of course I don’t really get along with His Ex. I leave him little presents.”
Raleigh Montague asks Daimon: Let me guess. Voodoo dolls wearing blue cravats with their heads hanging on by a thread?
Daimon says with an Uberwaldean accent: Chestnut figures. I don’t do with the voodoo thing.
Daimon says with an Uberwaldean accent: He complain about it? Good.
Raleigh Montague says: Nah. But I know you.
Daimon grins. “Hey, it keeps him on his toes. Besides, he keeps leaving garlic on my desk.”
Raleigh Montague says: I was just going to ask what he leaves you.
Daimon looks serious. “Reckon if he thought I were a real threat or something, he’d do a lot worse than that. But it’s all right. He don’t like vampires, I don’t much care for old school nobs.”
Raleigh Montague nods. “I don’t think he considers you a real threat. Besides, I think we all of us have bigger things to focus on.”
Raleigh Montague thoughtfully says: At least for a while.
Daimon says with an Uberwaldean accent: I am no real threat. I ain’t no threat at all.
Raleigh Montague points out, “Unless your name is Dabria?”
Daimon says with an Uberwaldean accent: In that case, I’d be willing as to ‘fess up to the blood on my hands and the ripped off head in my hand to Mister Vimes, yeah.
Raleigh Montague says: We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.
Daimon says with an Uberwaldean accent: Yeah.
Daimon says with an Uberwaldean accent: If I get a chance, though…
Raleigh Montague nods. “Bridge. Crossing. In time.” He stretches and looks out of the window. “Home time, I reckon.” He gestures to his case, offering you another cigarette. “One for the road?”
Daimon takes it. “Don’t mind if I do.”