#this is more of a filler to provide context into diego's personality and introduce faria's character

[lilac-and-lemon-whumps]

3.5 I Can Be Fair

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Pertaining to the phone call referenced in Part 3 

Cw’s: vampire whumper/dubious caretaker, human whumpee, references to old injuries, forced feeding, medical whump--non-explicit, it used as a pronoun, dehumanization. 

The problem with working remotely left too much time on Diego’s hands. 

He’d finish his emails within an hour, write off the remaining shipments within the next. Between phone calls with coworkers, Diego idly watched a broadcast of a human colony’s protest that somehow hadn’t let up in the past couple days, despite the strong pushback from the authorities.

The sun had only been set a few hours when Diego completed everything he needed and for a moment, he wondered why he ever bothered going into the office when he could have had this time on his hands all along.

But that’s not all it was, of course. Diego only had to make his way down the east corridor of his house, the section he cordoned off for the new human, to remember that he had other pressing issues to take care of. 

The first being: making sure his pet wasn’t broken.

“Welker speaking, how can I help you?” 

“Faria, it’s me.” Diego was in the laundry room, sorting through the mini fridge he’d ordered for the pet. Part of him considered just putting the damn thing in the human’s room, but considering that it wouldn’t eat anything unless Diego quite literally shoved it down it’s throat, that would probably be pointless.

“Hey, Diego. Sorry, I didn’t realize it was you. Hands are full at the moment.” 

From the call’s other end came a sound like someone was crying. Diego frowned. “Is this a bad time?” “Nah, it’s all good. Client just came in a bit ago, pet broke it’s arm. Theo’s setting it in the back.”

“Ah.” Faria worked as a vet tech in the city, and was probably the only reason Diego’s human was even still alive. She’d been the one to recommend the right meds and stitch a couple open wounds when Diego had first received it after Gabi’s death. And she only charged him for the cost of travel. 

“As much as I love you, D, I’m going to go out on a fang and guess you’re not calling about going for drinks with me and Joe. Is this about your little friend? How’s it doing?”

Diego huffed noncommittally and finally chose a cup of applesauce from the mini fridge along with a packaged bar of human-friendly nutrients. The first looked absolutely revolting, but multiple google searches insisted that it would be an easier option when it came to feeding a stubborn pet.

“I don’t like the silence, Diego. What’s going on?”

Diego sighed. He hated being out of his element. But more than that, he hated admitting it. 

“Nothing,” Diego started. “At least, nothing’s changed. It still won’t eat on its own. It won’t come out of its room, even though I keep the door unlocked while I’m working. I still don’t know it’s damn name, even though it can obviously understand me and talk. It doesn’t make sense.” From the other end, Diego could hear Faria hum as she thought. In the past couple weeks since Diego received ownership of Gabi’s pet, he and Faria had many conversations over the human. Faria seemed to be under the assumption the pet was depressed, which wasn’t unusual when an owner died. Diego wasn’t expecting the thing to cuddle up to him immediately, but the hunger strikes and refusal to talk ninety-percent of the time wasn’t going to cut it.

“You can always give it another name,” Faria suggested. “It’s more than normal.”

“Yes, but…” Diego didn’t know where he was going with the statement so started over. “Surely Gabi had a name for it.”

“What does that matter? Give it a new one. I’m fond of ‘Bambi’ myself, actually. Have you ever seen a human with such big eyes?”

“Ri, it’s the principle of it all. If it can speak and understand me, there is no reason why it can’t just give me a simple answer.”

“We often give humans less credit than they deserve,” Faria stated. “Keep asking. If it’s that important to you, just give it time.” 

Growing frustrated, Diego leaned against the washer and sighed again. 

“Time isn’t the issue,” he admitted quietly. “Ria, it’s fucking terrified of me.” 

Faria made a sound between a scoff and a laugh. “Yes, well. That’s to be expected. It doesn’t know you well. And it’s only going to stay scared until it realizes it doesn’t need to be.”

“And how am I supposed to do that? Just trying to feed it is akin to torture, with the way it looks at me.” Diego tapped the applesauce pack against the counter, thinking. “And don’t get me started on when I healed its wrist.” “What?” Faria snapped into the phone. “Did it get hurt?” Diego rolled his eyes. Faria could be…a little too soft about pets. Must come with the vet territory, but still. “It’s fine. Just scratched itself in the ties a bit ago.” He didn’t mention the nightmares his pet seemed to have every couple of days, or that Diego heard it talk more in its sleep than ever awake. “I licked the scratches closed, didn’t even need venom or anything. You would’ve thought I held a bone-saw to its arm, the face it made.” “Ties,” Faria repeated. “You’re still using zip ties? I told you to only use those the first few nights at most. Human skin is too sensitive for—" “I don’t need a lecture, Ria.” A headache was forming at Diego’s temples. He needed to feed soon. “Besides, the ones you recommended came in yesterday. They’re all padded and soft.”

“If—“ Faria was cut off for a moment by a loud wail, and then a gentle shushing sound from a male in the background. “Sorry, they’re just about done. Anyway, if you don’t need a lecture, what do you want me to say? I can only give you the advice I tell every client. If you want a scared and obedient pet, you do what you’re doing now. You want one that’ll look you in the eyes, maybe even speak up—provided they were trained that way—then treat it like a child. Speak gently to it. Take it out of its room, tell it explicitly what it's allowed and not allowed to do. If you have to punish it, be fair.”

“Fair.” Diego ran the word over his tongue. “I can be fair.”

“I hope so, D. Hell, when you first called me that day and I saw it’s injuries, all I could think—“ “Don’t start,” Diego cut in. “I know you didn’t like Gabi, but I will not hear you talk about my dead sister—“

“All I’m saying,” Faria stressed, “is I see too many clients who act like ‘fair’ isn’t in their vocabulary. Please, Diego, don’t be that guy.” 

Diego laughed. “It’s not their fault you’re the one with a bleeding heart for humans. Next thing I know, you’ll be saying we shouldn’t feed from them.” 

Faria was quiet for a moment, probably busy sorting files or whatever the hell vet techs did on a slow day. “Do you need anything else, Silva?” She finally asked. 

“I suppose not. I’ll let—“

The line cut off. Diego frowned. She must have been more busy than she claimed.

“Fair,” Diego said to himself, carrying the applesauce and nutrient bar down the hall towards the all too quiet room. He pitched his voice, nasal and high. “Faria, the fairest fair of them all.”

He chuckled. 

What a word.

.

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