It would be foolish if Ambrose didn't think that there was a large world outside of himself, of his small coven of fellow fledglings who are much to happy to cut each other's throats, of his sire who so dangerously looks to topple everyone else's game pieces over. He speaks like a revolutionary, but wants the benefits of a monarchy. He is all too happy to have his enemies before he has the power to match them. Ambrose knows there is more to this all than simply coexisting amongst other preternatural beings, humans in the balance of it all. He's found himself seated in a court beyond his imagining, one that Leon has mistaken for his playground. He came into all of this with such little awareness, but there is just no avoiding it now.
But his curiosity has him watching Magnus, his words insistent and reassuring. It is such a different shade on him, rare in this environment they share. It's an easy, slippery slope into suspecting the worst, and Ambrose is so easy to entertain possibilities -- but Magnus is an anchor, a stone on the bottom of the pond, pinning the earth underneath the currents. Ambrose can't be swept up too far, even now, with a few soft words uttered here in the quiet theatre.
It makes it sound ever more important to stay here in London -- Leon will risk their safety, everyone's, with his hunger so insatiable still after these centuries he has lived. Additionally, Ambrose can remain closer to Magnus.
He squeezes his hand, slow and gradual, confirming. "I would like to think you don't romance just any vampire you come alongside in your tireless work," Ambrose teases softly, a smile breaking through in spite of the tension in his eyes. "My sight is clear...I was only utilized, not used. I only wish I could have consciously cooperated for you from the start, but I don't hold you at fault."
Magnus doesn't have any way of trusting him, not really -- Ambrose can't assure anything. That is what makes Leon a threat: he is a loose cannon ball. He may even be quite too close to the situation on the table.
Ambrose is hurt, but for nothing that Magnus has done. He's hurt because he can't do what he had hoped, was born too late to the game to change Leon's way of thinking. It was too advantageous for Ambrose to think he could do enough to affect him at all.
But he earned something else along the way, a treasure of immeasurable value. Ambrose brings Magnus' hand closer, plants a kiss atop his knuckles, skin tinged with the scent of tobacco. "I don't see our having met now sullied. I find it more serendipitous than ever."
What will happen to Leon? It's hard to track why it is Ambrose won't ask it -- whether he can't yet face hearing the answer, or because he already knows it.
no subject
But his curiosity has him watching Magnus, his words insistent and reassuring. It is such a different shade on him, rare in this environment they share. It's an easy, slippery slope into suspecting the worst, and Ambrose is so easy to entertain possibilities -- but Magnus is an anchor, a stone on the bottom of the pond, pinning the earth underneath the currents. Ambrose can't be swept up too far, even now, with a few soft words uttered here in the quiet theatre.
It makes it sound ever more important to stay here in London -- Leon will risk their safety, everyone's, with his hunger so insatiable still after these centuries he has lived. Additionally, Ambrose can remain closer to Magnus.
He squeezes his hand, slow and gradual, confirming. "I would like to think you don't romance just any vampire you come alongside in your tireless work," Ambrose teases softly, a smile breaking through in spite of the tension in his eyes. "My sight is clear...I was only utilized, not used. I only wish I could have consciously cooperated for you from the start, but I don't hold you at fault."
Magnus doesn't have any way of trusting him, not really -- Ambrose can't assure anything. That is what makes Leon a threat: he is a loose cannon ball. He may even be quite too close to the situation on the table.
Ambrose is hurt, but for nothing that Magnus has done. He's hurt because he can't do what he had hoped, was born too late to the game to change Leon's way of thinking. It was too advantageous for Ambrose to think he could do enough to affect him at all.
But he earned something else along the way, a treasure of immeasurable value. Ambrose brings Magnus' hand closer, plants a kiss atop his knuckles, skin tinged with the scent of tobacco. "I don't see our having met now sullied. I find it more serendipitous than ever."
What will happen to Leon? It's hard to track why it is Ambrose won't ask it -- whether he can't yet face hearing the answer, or because he already knows it.