"Because I was supposed to make you watch modern American television, to help with your speech." He pondered for a minute before shrugging. "What the hell. It's kind of late in the game to change your speech, anyway."
Lucern nodded absently. The mention of Kate made him remember her accusations of earlier. She had said he spoke in old-fashioned ways. Lucern supposed he did; it was hard to change speech patterns. He'd been born in Switzerland in 1390. His parents had moved around a lot in those days, but that was where he'd been conceived and born. They had subsequently moved back to England, and he had learned to speak using the King's English. Despite all the countries he had lived in since, and all the languages he had learned and spoken, he still did and probably always would bear a slight accent and lean toward speaking the way he'd been taught.
What else had she said? He recalled something about an angel. That he looked like an angel wannabe? What did that mean exactly? Her voice had been too snarly for it to be a compliment. His gaze shifted from the TV screen to Chris. "Who, or what, is an angel wannabe?"
Chris turned a blank expression on him. "Huh?"
"Kate said I looked like an angel wannabe," Lucern reminded him. Understanding immediately lit the young editor's face. "Oh, yeah. Well, you know. Angel. Buffy and Angel? Vampire slayer and vamp? Oh, that's right. You don't watch TV, so you wouldn't know," he said finally. "Well, Angel is this vampire, see. And he is, or was, Buffy the Vampire Slayer's boyfriend. But he has his own show now."
"Vampire slayer?" Lucern asked with dismay. Did they still have those? Dear God, he had thought that craze had died out a century or so ago. Life had been pretty tense for a bit. He and his family had had to be terribly cautious—or more so than usual. They had always had to be cautious. Their natural proclivities had made them a target many times over the centuries. Many had been burned at stakes as witches during the Inquisition, and when Stoker had come out with his damned book, vampire slayers had popped up everywhere. It had been a damned nuisance. And scary, too. His family had only really begun to relax since the advent of blood banks, which had lessened both vampires hunting and being hunted. Now it seemed to be a false security. There were still slayers out there.
Well, there was nothing he could do about it at the moment, though he meant to warn his family. He would mention it to Bastien when his brother called back.
Lucern moved on to the other accusation Kate had made. "What did Kate mean by my being named after a dairy product?"
"Oh." Chris made a face. "Lucern is a dairy company here in the States."
"A dairy company?"
"Yeah, you know—milk, cottage cheese, ice cream," Chris explained in exasperation.
"I know what dairy products are," Lucern said testily. "But I am not named after dairy products."
"So what are you named for?"
"The lake in Switzerland where I was conceived."
Chris nodded. "I think I've heard of it. But doesn't Lake Lucerne have an e on the end?"
"Yes, well… I think my mother thought the e made the name feminine. She took it off."
"Ah." Chris nodded again. "It's a cool name. Don't let what Kate said bother you. She's just a little testy lately. Working too hard or something." He gestured to the pizza box on the table. "Is there any left?"
Lucern leaned over and saw that there were still two slices of the meat-eater's special they'd ordered. He took one, then handed the box to Chris.
Besides television, pizza was something else he'd never tried. It wasn't something served in the gourmet restaurants he frequented. Lucern was beginning to think that his snobby ways had been making him miss out on many pleasures he might truly enjoy. He had never been a great fan of beer, but it had a nice bite to it with pizza. It went even better with the peanuts Chris had run out to buy. It had been kind of fun, too, cracking the peanut shells and strewing them all over the place.
Lucern peered at the coffee table with interest. It was awash in empty beer cans, peanut shells, used paper plates and napkins. He had at first tried to clean up as they ate, his fastidious nature kicking in, but Chris had told him to just stop, he was blocking the TV. Now Lucern found himself rather comfortable amid the mess.
His gaze slid curiously to his companion. Kate's editor friend was an interesting fellow, mostly good-tempered but with a caustic wit at odds with his youth. Lucern had learned the man was in his late twenties—a babe to his own advanced years, though the editor would probably resent him thinking so. Despite that, Lucern was enjoying his company.