He immediately set about grabbing a bowl of warm water, what disinfectant he had and a flannel with the first aid kit as Basil told his story of how he’d found her. The mention of the name Elijah struck a chord and was enough to make him pause and take a breath to calm down. “I need whatever information you might be able to find on him. If he so much as considers looking at a Bus stop, I want to know” he said after a moment before he set about trying to clean her up.
“I might need to ask Gavin to help here. Can you call the third number in the blue book?” he asked Basil. Hoping that the former military doc could help more, especially when offered cash and a drink with no judgement. Both the blessing and curse of PTSD and its effectiveness at creating underworld specialists who didn’t run their mouths.
The three weeks that had passed had been more hectic than Arkasel had first anticipated, rumours of a figure that he couldn’t ignore and a near week and a half of chasing it around the country before they had vanished again had kept him busy. The final week had been spent laying traps and counter-traps upon each other just in case.
He hadn’t expected the pattern of banging on the door at 5am that was reserved for the worst situations, and even less to answer the door to Basil and Charlotte while clutching a knife that was bordering what people would legally classify as a sword. ”What in the name of god happened?” he asked curtly as he swept her up and headed towards the basement as quickly as he could to try and keep her in one piece.
He trusted Basil to lock up the door correctly, and trusted the claymore mines loaded with silver nitrate and iron shrapnel even more to deal with anything that tried to go in through the other entry points to the shop. Setting her on the bed he grimaced, his own medical capability was limited to reading and self treatment with vampire physiology, if he couldn’t do much now he would have to call in a favour to help the girl properly.
"If you wish" he replied as she asked about seeing him next week when he returned to the room. He moved towards the door in order to open it for her, injured shoulder or not he would try and show some kindness in what way he could.
Mentioning his idea of a place to go, he had not expected her reply and it left him stunned for a moment. Swanning for a moment, he remained calm outside as he finished cleaning his work-space and stacking the books in their bags, while flustered on the inside. As he prepared to walk past the girl to drop the books into the rear storage, he took a gamble he hadn't expected to. "Maybe i'll look into it then" he replied quietly before heading to the back and setting the books into the storage chest before heading back, hopefully before Charlotte had left.
"You're welcome" he replied before she informed him of how her work was coming to a close. It was starting to get a little darker outside and the streets had gotten slightly quieter to go with it. With that note, he went back down to his flat and turned the microwave back on to reheat the wheat pillow. He returned back shortly and offered it to the girl with an outstretched hand.
Her question gave him pause for thought. "I'm not quite sure. It's been some time since I've considered anything like that" he replied as he walked back to his station and began to clean up some of the mess. Her curious nature and stating him as a young man almost made him laugh, she was half right in her statement. "It's familial" he said as he gestured to the shop around him, not a complete lie given that it had been just one member of the family who'd owned it for this long. "Maybe... Seeing the view from the top of Tower Bridge" he decided after a moment on something he had not yet done but had been told was worth it from Basil.
"You're of no bother, the traffic from outside makes more noise than you ever have" he replied as he placed the next book into it's bag and began on the next. Her words of working there and how he could stand her gave me a moments thought, what gave him pause was the mention of his shop making her feel safe.
"...You're always welcome here, you know" he replied quietly after a moment, attempting to focus on his work as best he could. He would have offered the girl a job here, but he would need help to sort that out from Basil for one and the other, would be this *Friend* of hers who caused so much trouble. If they started any here or that would affect his sanctuary, it would lead to unpleasantness for the girl in one way or another.
The way she spoke felt off but he didn't push it, the girl had secrets and in all fairness he did too.
"I can imagine it's rather chaotic in more popular and modern stores. Hopefully you get some decent sleep then" he replied with a small shrug. His shop had never truly been a busy place, but again that was understandable given it's nature and the advent of more modern, affordable bookshops and the internet.
Her mention of watching the recordings made the vampire smile softly for a moment as he looked to the wall to his front. Such a childlike innocence and tradition that had become popular in the more recent century but it was still sweet to hear of something around Christmas, rather different to his own annual plans.
"It is a good performance. I would recommend it if you ever have the chance" he responded before the quick correction came in place, "Too busy some years?" he asked as he pushed himself out of his comfort zone. Something that he'd been told to try from time to time by one of his few friends, the business mogul who he trusted with his life.
"Doesn't sound like a very good friend if that were the case" replied Arkasel without thinking for even a moment to filter his words. Instead he found himself standing still and attempting to regain his composure. Her question on if he could dance did not helped, but it gave a swift move into a slightly different conversation.
"Not really. In truth I have watched the ballet before but I've never taken to dance" he replied with a moments pause before looking from the corner of his eye to the framed photograph from the late 40's of Covent garden. A happier time when a worlds worth of darkness felt like it had finally been pushed aside.
"You're welcome Ms Daniels" he replied quietly as he heard her slowly manage to medicate and have a drink, with a single arm she managed it with impressive speed and dexterity. Her response about dance felt strange, almost like a child tugging gently on the table cloth but with the care to not bring it crashing down, with how she spoke of their grace not revealing the effort required to reach it.
"Practice can make a world of difference. Whether a principal dancer or a snowflake in the crowd, everyone does the same plies in the morning" he replied without thinking, a wonderful phrase he'd heard the first time he'd properly seen a ballet production from the lady who sat in front. It had been a while since he'd gone, maybe it would be worth visiting again with Basil in the future.