Tobias and Maudlin, or, Not Another Fucking Vampire Goddammit

"Nothing at all! But if I hadn't learned to not avoid or otherwise get rid of threats, I wouldn't be alive, would I? Suffice to say, I am in fact very old, and there is a reason for that! But you can if you want." He paused. "Where is that vampire now? Do you know, perchance?" His dull green eyes caught the light for a brief moment, and for that brief moment, were bright and sharp. Then they were again dull, mundane, and carefully guarded.

"...He comes and goes as he pleases," he admitted through gritted teeth. "The fuck's it to you? I don't owe you my goddamn life's story. You're just some creep who's breaking and entering. You're lucky I don't call the police on your stupid ass." He took another sip of wine, attempting to look composed; his hand shook ever so slightly as he touched the glass to his lips. There was no way the cops would ever help someone in this shady, run-down circus. As if they could do anything to a vampire if they did show up. Still, the bluffing made him feel better, and he met Maudlin's eyes without flinching.

"Mhmm?" He raised an eyebrow, then laughed. "Alright, if it makes you feel better. Very well!" He grinned. "I'll see you soon, yes?"
He left as casually as he'd entered, humming a chipper tune as he went.

Tobias saw nor heard nothing of the vampire he'd met that day, for several weeks. There was no sign of him until nearly a month later, when he returned without warning, as he had the first time, carrying a large cloth bag.
"Right, since you didn't believe me, I brought you this."
He upended the bag, dumping out five severed heads, all of them vampires. "You have no idea how much of a pain it was keeping these intact, by the way. You want 'em?"

Tobias screamed, a shrill sound that echoed throughout the entire circus camp; as he flinched, he accidentally flung his inkwell across the room. It landed at Maudlin's feet with a crash, black ink all over the Persian carpet. Tobias screamed again.

"How dare you get blood in here!" he hissed, veins popping in his pale, delicate temples. "I will fucking destroy you! Do you know how much this shit costs?!" He grabbed the nearest thing he could reach--a heavy dictionary--and flung it at the vampire's head, screeching with rage.

Maudlin ducked out of the way, watching the dictionary fly by his head and crash to the floor behind him. He strolled over to where it had landed, picked it up, and quietly smoothed the crumpled pages. "Calm down," he said, closing the book and facing Tobias again. "You're going to hurt yourself."

He walked over to him, holding out the dictionary with absolute calm and a small smile on his face. "And then somebody will have to clean that up, too."

Tobias slapped the book out of his hands, staring at him like he was covered in something disgusting.

"Clean them up!" he hissed. "Clean them up or I will kill you, I swear to God! What kind of filthy animal are you? We've had monkeys that were cleaner!" He slammed his fist on the table, wincing softly at the pain that shot up his arm.

"I should call the police. There's a bag's worth of fucking heads in my fucking tent--I should call the police." He reached for the antique phone he kept on his desk. It was plugged into his real iPhone, and was a completely frivolous accessory, but Tobias was the type who'd rather be seen dead than holding something so common and beloved by the masses to his ear.

Maudlin crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. "You can do that, sure. Tell them there's a vampire in your tent who just put the heads on your floor, It sounds very convincing. I'm sure they'll believe you when you tell them, upon arrival, that the vampire has simply vanished somewhere, and you aren't sure where exactly he's gone. I'd believe it, if I were them."

He shrugged. "But you know something, it's a fair bet that I'm doing all this simply because I love watching you absolutely lose it like this. It amuses me. I thought you should know." He picked up on of the heads and looked at it. "Not much that keeps one interested after a while, you know? But this, this doesn't really get old quickly. You're just so upset, you know, and it's wonderful." He grinned and put the head back in his bag, then picked up the others.

After a moment's deliberation, he put the fake phone down, scowling something fierce. "I despise you. I thought you should know," he repeated in a mocking voice, sticking his tongue out. "Is there any reason you decided to ruin my carpet hours before a show? Or is God merely making his usual rounds, ensuring my constant misery?"

"There is no god, there is only this, and this is pretty much shit. I'm just sharing. A healthy dose of life, y'know, to keep you good and miserable. And, uh, you're welcome to that, friend. You aren't the first and you won't be the last. I despise you in far lesser amounts, by the way."

He hummed as he put the other heads back in the bag.

"This carpet is one of a kind," he growled, crossing his arms and tapping his foot impatiently. "How do you plan to replace it?"

"I don't, really," he replied cheerfully, grinning. "I think it looks better this way. It tells a story, see? Random question, but if one wanted to subtly burn a human or like-shaped head, where might be the best place to do that?" He clutched the bag of severed heads in one hand while the other reached into his pocket, pulling out a very old watch and glancing at the time.

"Burn them up your fucking ass!" he snapped irritably. "If you don't intend to replace my carpet, I suggest you leave before you destroy even more of my very expensive things, you piece of trash! I have a show tonight to prepare for, and my nerves are already in tatters because of this stupid unannounced visit."

"If you hate this job so much, why do you force yourself to do it over and over again? Or is it just the people? Just as bad, really. Why not retire yourself to some quiet, secluded place? You don't make sense to me, friend." Maudlin stared at him, pondering, then shrugged. "Suit yourself. Go prepare for your show. I'll be around, not that you'll need me, but you have the right to know, I suppose." He waved, and turned to leave, carrying his bag and humming.

"No one said I hate this job," he replied curtly, making his way to his large vanity. He grabbed a powder puff and touched up his complexion, irritated by how blotchy rage had made it.

"I love this job; it's my life. I only despise when things don't go my way."

"So, life in general?" He crossed his arms, watching him. "How unfortunate for you, friend. I used to be very much the same, but ah, haha, things change fast." He smiled, almost as though recalling a fond memory. The expression conflicted almost painfully with his next statement. "Of course, it was beaten out of me but I get the feeling that wouldn't do much for you."

He took a few steps forward. "I don't envy a man such as yourself. There's not much hope for you but to be perpetually mad at life for doing what it does, mm? So sorry, friend."

"If things don't go my way, everyone suffers," he replied flatly, applying more mascara to his lashes. "I'm the ringmaster--my job is to orchestrate, to control, to lead. When things don't go my way, there are problems. I feed everyone here, don't you know?" He frowned at his reflection, straightening his tie.

"That's kind of you." Maudlin watched him, then glanced at his watch. "My, my, you're going to be late. I seem to have gotten you caught up. Best hurry on, friend, don't want to keep them waiting."
The vampire grinned that stupid, cocky grin he was so fond of, and turned to leave, looking quite pleased with himself for some reason or another.