#::DuncanxMatthew

[antiquecritique]

|| Matthew & Duncan ||

Even though he now had an actual employee in the store, Duncan still did all of the errands personally. Mostly because some errands were quite difficult to explain and give instructions for. Aside from restoring old furniture pieces, procuring misplaced or homeless art, retouching damaged paintings or completing rare sets of collector’s items, Duncan was quite good at finding and acquiring other things as well. As long as it was rare, in one way or another mystical and difficult to obtain, Duncan found it to be enough of a challenge to have him drawn out of his store in attempts to track it down. This may also sometimes include things that were somewhat beyond Duncan’s specialty, but not out of his reach as far as he could help it.

So, after a brief research on the infamous belladonna, or more commonly known as the deadly nightshade, which was the main ingredient of the item he now had in an inconspicuous paper bag like it were nothing more than some random groceries from a grocery store, Duncan made his way out of the night market, efficient and brief with his errand as always. The jar of the Sleeping Death, a type of poison whose recipe was almost lost and forgotten to most herbalists and poison makers, would soon find a buyer, already pre-ordered for purposes Duncan didn’t inquire about. After all, means to cause death were of little concern to one who’d already experienced his own.

However, on his way back he got sidetracked, which was quite rare since nothing could drag Duncan’s attention away unless he allowed it to. A face he knew had just stepped out of a shop further down the street Duncan had stepped on, a face he fancied he could see some features on that he could also recognize in himself. This wasn’t the first time Duncan had seen Matthew Baudelaire, a young man coming from a long line of an intricately branching family tree Duncan was intimately familiar with. There was once a very brief week in the past when Duncan had passed through Greywood, lingering only temporarily, when he’d stalked the Baudelaire family home without ever being detected and noticed a few children playing in the backyard, rambunctious and loud, which was typical of most little ones. The mop of unruly curls was as memorable then as it was now. The next time he’d found Matthew when he moved back to Greywood more permanently, Duncan had no problem matching that child’s face to its adult version. Now, it was well committed to memory.

However, what piqued Duncan’s interest even more was the man who'd followed after Matthew, coming out of the store behind him to continue whatever deceptively friendly chatter they’d engaged in before their transaction was done. Well, at least the man was trying to be friendly with Matthew, the guy a real schmoozer, one of those hustling street peddlers who’d talk to you like they were selling you fog even when all you’ve asked them was how they’ve been lately. Duncan knew that face too. He never forgot a face. It was a face that once saw Duncan’s crisp suit and eye-catching silver pocket watch chain and perceived a chance to lighten Duncan’s wallet for a few dollar bills. Needless to say, nothing the man had tried to sell him had managed to catch Duncan’s interest. After all, he had no need of a dealer of any kind, unless what they dealt with was a potential Rembrandt, a piece by Sheraton or a collection of an old volume set. But apparently, Matthew’s search did involve a dealer of exactly this sort, much to Duncan’s mild surprise. However, it wasn’t a smart choice to put this sort of trust onto this specific fellow and that Duncan was very well aware of. It took the old vampire only one conversation with the man to know that he was decidedly not the right person to do any ‘business’ with.

@matthewbaudelaire

[antiquecritique]

The young man finally broke free of the other’s chattering clutches, turning around and walking away from the store. Matthew would not be able to see or hear the mumble this greasy seller had made under the unruly mustache above his upper lip as soon as Matty was safely farther away. But Duncan did, differently-colored eyes trained on the man along with his supernatural hearing. “... you’ll be back again. You’ll be back so often.” Spoke the guy with a chuckle, around a cigarette he’d just popped between his lips, about to light it up as he retreated back into his seedy little store hangout. These words made Duncan narrow his eyes ever so slightly. 

Nothing other left to see or notice by the store, the old vampire’s eyes slid to Matty, who was walking down the street his way, about to pass him by. Duncan made no move to make himself inconspicuous. He remained standing there, perfectly still, gaze following Matty’s movement unmistakably, without any self-consciousness for staring. If a striking, tall figure of a dark-haired man in an old-fashioned yet pristine suit holding a paper bag in the crook of his arm while the other was neatly and almost gentlemanly folded behind his back wasn’t enough to draw attention, then a polite ‘good evening’ paired up with a nod undeniably directed at Matty as he passed him by surely would.

Matthew wasn't proud of what he was doing, admittedly it had been a while since he'd gone to a dealer to purchase any supplementary drugs to satisfy his dependency. Normally he just went to the pharmacy and took advantage of his regularly prescribed refills of which he had previously gone through frequently but lately he'd been under the careful and considerate scrutiny of his boyfriend who kept the pain pills which Matthew was prescribed to manage his migraines and only gave them when asked for, when it was necessary, and only in moderate amounts. Matthew didn't have the heart to reveal the unattractive truth, nor did he have it in his own mind that he even had much of a problem. He had a multitude of excuses to justify himself. It was just for emergencies, he needed to keep his own pills with him because he couldn't possibly be around Jean-Claude every minute of every day and what if he got a migraine while he was out and Jean-Claude was too busy to come to him and provide the two pills needed to combat the pain of his migraine. Matthew's migraines were bad to the point of crippling him and he couldn't always know when they were going to spring up. He needed to keep some pills with him, just in case. Just in case.

This is what he had convinced himself of and his guilt for going behind Jean-Claude's back to do this meant he was a little less perceptive than usual. He didn't think to double check the pills he'd just purchased. He naively trusted the man he'd purchased them from, he was friendly enough, a real chatterbox and this should have been his first red flag.

After a few more friendly words were exchanged, finally Matthew made his escape, ending the conversation with a wave. Matthew shoved his hands into his pockets and grasped the plastic bag with his purchased pills within the curl of his fist, even just feeling the imprint of those pills beneath their plastic covering eased comfort into the human's shoulders as he walked away.