As afternoon gives way to evening, the view from the ridge is spectacular. The setting sun casts its colors of red and gold upon the boughs of trees finally turning green again after a long winter's sleep. Puffy clouds in the darkening sky drift overhead in shades of pink, silver, and gold. Birds twitter and rustle in branches, calling out to each other across the valley. It's nature in all her splendor.

In the shadow of one of the stone cairns, Martin has set up camp to take shelter from the cold breezes whistling through the rocks. The scent of wood smoke and meat is easy enough to recognize, making the trader not terribly difficult to find despite being hidden from immediate view. In his little rocky niche, he has set up his lean-to and bedroll, with only one crate lugged up all this way. Over the fire, a metal mesh grill has been laid, and upon it sizzles strips of venison along side kabobs of potatoes and carrots. Dinner isn't quite served, but it's definitely in progress.

Cheerful humming joins the sounds of the birds and breeze, then footsteps on earth as a counterpoint. Ren follows the smells toward the little campsite, leaning around the cairn to spot and grin brilliantly at the trader. "Evenin', handsome."

This isn't a date. It certainly is not, and it's mere coincidence that Martin's hair is still damp from a bath, and his clothing looks like a fresh change of recently laundered... well, not finery, but he cleans up fairly well. "Ren," he greets warmly, looking up from where he sits on a rock by the fire, carefully cutting the center out of a smallish round loaf of bread. Another one sits beside him atop the crate, waiting its turn for gutting. "I'm glad you made it."

Oh, of course not. After all, Ren's not dressed up or anything. Although his shirt does seem to have silvery buttons, and doesn't it usually have onyx ones? Probably entirely coincidental. The corked bottle of something dangling idly from his hand probably isn't, but it's always polite not to arrive to dinner empty handed. "So'm I," he agrees cheerfully as he comes around the boulders, into proper view, and gives Martin an up and down glance. "Y'look nice, t'night," he remarks, and finds his way over toward the fire-ring. "Firelight suits you."

Martin drops his gaze, and the red glow of the campfire makes it hard to tell if his cheeks color or not, but he looks a touch awkward, and not necessarily in a bad way. "Thank you," he says. "I, ah. This is experimental cooking. I hope you don't mind. It seemed like a good idea at the time." With a long, slender fork, he stabs at strips of venison and lays them in the hollowed out round of bread. He then lays atop it slices of potatoes and carrots, and strips of caramelized onions. Not bad for camp cooking. "Please, sit down and make yourself comfortable. Let me know how you like it." From a pot nestled near the coals, he ladles a gravy that looks like it's got bits of wild mushrooms in it over the contents of the bread bowl. Voila, stew. Which he offers over with a clean fork. "Just don't tell me if it's awful," he adds with a wink. "My ego is made of tissue."

Serendipity finds himself a bit of rock as close to Martin's as he can manage, and sets the bottle down gently between their feet before accepting the bowl and fork, grinning at the wink. "'s a pity, we'll hafta see what we can do about that," he replies playfully, and brings the bowl up toward his face, taking in the scent. "...well, it =smells= delicious, at the very least..." A bite elicits an incoherent noise which is most probably intended to confirm this.

Martin reaches for the bottle, inspecting it in one hand while the other rummages in a pack for a corkscrew. "I learned to cook when I was a boy," he says amiably. "I was closer in age to my sisters than my brothers, so I ended up doing a lot of camp chores with them."

"Mm-nmm," Serendipity replies, then makes a slight face and finishes his bite. "Me, too, 'bout the learning to cook. All I've got's sisters, less I got a brother since I left home... but seein' as Ma was pretty much past that even by the time I showed up, not too likely." He pierces a mushroom and a bite-sized bit of meat on his fork, and offers it toward Martin; after all, he hasn't gotten to try his handiwork yet. The bottle is cobalt blue, and neither it nor its cork seem to be labeled. "...plus, it's a handy skill t'keep a roof over your head now'n then."

Martin offers Ren a cheeky grin as he waves away the offer, commenting, "There's plenty once I get this open." This would refer to the bottle, whose cork he stabs neatly with the corkscrew and works open. "It's a handy skill, certainly. My feeling is that a man who can cook can live anywhere."

Serendipity mirrors the grin, with a little shrug, and eats the bite himself. "Anywhere there's food, anyway," he agrees afterward, and gestures toward the bottle. "It's a currant wine a guy I found livin' out in the foothills makes. I think he said it's got honey in it, too; not sure."

Martin takes a tentative whiff at the bottle, then nods his approval and says, "Well, so far so good. How is dinner agreeing with you?" He sets the bottle aside and rummages again in his packs, exchanging the corkscrew for two mismatched ceramic mugs. "It's all I have, I'm afraid," he says as he pours the wine into each cup and offers one over. Only then does he set to work gutting the other bread round to make a bowl for his own dinner.

"Like I just said it'd be great if it got its fondest wish," Ren replies appreciatively, and takes another bite, balancing the mug somewhat precariously on his thigh for the time being. "...so, 'side from slaving over a hot campfire, whatcha been up to all day?"

Martin eyes Ren oddly, tilting his head as he asks, "Does food have a fondest wish?" Dismissing the question with a shake of his head, he admits, "I've spent most of the day lazing around. I had a late night last night." He arranges his own stew bowl, then settles down by the campfire, setting his mug by his hip before digging in with an appetite to match his bulk. "Saw your friend again last night, the vampire."

"Eh, probably to be eaten," Serendipity replies lightly, and breaks into a bright grin again at the last comment. "Oh, yeah? Doin' better at it than I am, lately, then. Haven't caught sighta Tristan since he ran off t' think. ...y'know, my friends think too much," he remarks, wryly. "He doin' okay?"

Martin turns his attention to the fire, which casts his face in a rosy glow that has nothing at all to do with flushing. At all. Honest. He shrugs a little, nibbling at a bit of venison nonchalantly. "He's... doing better, I think. I hope. He was chasing a deer and it got away."

Serendipity's eyes narrow slightly at the rosier-than-fire-accounts-for glow of his companion's face, and studies him with amused suspicion. "...lost his dinner, huh? Poor guy. So... didja offer him a bite, then?" he inquires innocently.

Martin has probably never won a poker game in his life. His hand trembles a little as he lifts his mug to his lips, taking a rather indelicate swig of his wine. Then another. "It seemed the charitable thing to do," he says with a slight catch in his voice. "My people have a tradition that it's considered impolite to let someone leave your campsite hungry. It's not my fault we've never had to take non-humans into account."

Serendipity watches this, and grins again, slow and amused. "You are so cute," he murmurs, and shakes his head, taking a sip of his wine, smile staying in place, eyes still on Martin over the edge of his cup. "It's not like I'm gonna think less of you. ...'s nice, innit?"

Martin's eyes widen and he looks at Ren incredulously. "I'm not!" he says with a catch of laughter in his voice. With a hmph, he munches more stew, commenting between bites, "I probably shouldn't have done it. I can't get it out of my mind."

"You are too," Ren teases firmly, "so there. An' yeah. It's like that. Gotta be careful, 'cause Tristan says some people, it's addictive. I mean, c'n see why. An' Tristan's a good guy, but you wouldn't wanna get to where, say, he left town an' you ended up wantin' other leeches t' bite you, or anything. ...thassa generic you, not =you= you." He munches a bite of stew thoughtfully, and gestures with his fork, "...not that I'm sayin' not to let him bite you if you wanna, or anything. Just t' watch out if you start gettin' obsessed or somethin'."

Martin darts an alarmed look at Ren, and then he settles down, sipping at his wine with a troubled expression turned toward the fire. "I... know I shouldn't. Not again. Next time, I'll cut myself into a cup like I was going to. That's safe, isn't it? I can't feel it if he... oh, God."

Serendipity reaches out and puts a hand on Martin's shoulder, rubbing it gently. "Hey, relax, cutie. You're gettin' all tense again. It's okay, honest. An' yeah, not likely you're gonna get hooked on bleedin' yourself, but it's not like you're doomed t' crave it madly if y'let him bite you, either. I mean, he hasn't bitten me in, I dunno, 'least a month, an' I'm not exactly getting the shakes, you know?" he reassures. "So why shouldn't you?"

Martin lifts his gaze to look at Ren woefully. "You and I, we're not the same," he says quietly. Then he takes a deep breath, letting it out with a shuddering sigh as he looks away, searching for the bottle. "Listen to me. I'm going to ruin this dinner with this kind of talk."

"What fun'd it be if we were? An' anyway, it'd take a lot more'n a little talk t' ruin =this=," Ren replies, gesturing toward his stew, or what remains of it. It's been disappearing at a pretty decent clip.

Martin smiles a little, but he doesn't look like his heart is entirely in it. "You're kind to say so, but what I mean is... it's nothing. There is something weighing on my mind, but I'm sure it'll work out fine. One must have faith." He tops off Ren's mug from the bottle, then his own. "I do hope you'll eat your fill. There's certainly plenty."

Serendipity's brow furrows slightly, and his hand slides from Martin's shoulder up to brush a long a few locks of his hair. "What's botherin' you, handsome? Maybe I can help, or somethin'."

Martin shakes his head and says emphatically, "You can't." He hesitates at the touch, chewing at his lower lip thoughtfully, but then he leans into it cautiously. "I didn't even know for sure til last night, but it's something that, um. Runs in my family."

Serendipity curls his fingers gently through the roots of the honey-hued strands, fingertips stroking along scalp and neck comfortingly. "Somethin' bad?" he asks, rather gently, though it doesn't exactly help that he adds, "...I mean, I'm figurin' it's not, like, a cuckoo clock..."

Martin laughs a little, sounding as nervous as he does amused. "They bred us like cattle," he says, staring at the fire. "During the Dark. They... I only know the stories about my grandfather. I don't know the details. Just stories, about how they were trying to come up with a more... with better blood."

Serendipity arches a brow slightly, but there's no reaction tangible in his hand, at least. "So you've got super-tasty blood, huh? ...heh, I gotta be the only person in town still packin' the normal variety," he laments dryly. "...long's none of the normal vampires know 'bout it, shouldn't be a big deal, should it?"

Martin shrugs morosely and nods. "Yeah, I guess I do. I didn't know. You have to understand, my people avoid vampires. I never even met one til your friend." He shivers a little. "I had no idea it was so... it was like I finally felt right inside. That can't be good."

Serendipity nods a little. "I never met one 'til him, either," he admits, and gives Martin a little squeeze. "...prolly isn't good, 'less you guys can get real comfy with each other. Sounds like... well. Sounds like the reversa it feelin' so good t' get bit normally."

Martin studies his bowl, stabbing at a bit of venison glumly. "I can't stop thinking about him," he confides. "It's crazy. I don't even regret doing it. I just..." He shakes his head. "I don't know. I probably just managed to give myself a good scare."

"Good kinda can't stop thinkin' about, or bad kinda can't stop thinkin' about?" Ren asks, rubbing the back of the trader's neck. "I don't think you got anything you gotta be scared of..."

Martin laughs as he says, "I don't know." He looks up at Ren abruptly, the topic taking a sudden turn as he says, "I have to know, Serendipity. Before... well, before anything. You, um. I was told that it's not really your fault, that it's the way Coyote's children are but you are, ah, somewhat discriminating, right?"

Serendipity blinks, and tilts his head. "It's not really my fault I'm somewhat discriminating?" he asks, confused.

Martin shakes his head and says, flushing far too red to be something attributed to the fire's glow. "No, that you're promiscuous, but... you do stick to human beings, right?

"Once in a while, if they cover me with honey or somethin'," Ren replies innocently. "...y'know what's really easy t' stick to, though? Porcupines. All those damn spines..." He trails off, shaking his head ruefully, and watches Martin out of the corner of his eye.

Martin shivers and gives Ren a scolding look, but one also wrought with some concern. "It's just that Tristan said you tried to seduce a unicorn, and that he wouldn't be surprised if you'd fancied the occasional sheep, and I don't know if he was kidding or not."

"Well, y'know," Ren says earnestly, "there's somethin' about all that curly white wool that's just..." He can't keep it up anymore, and snickers, which turns into a full-fledged fit of laughter. "Oh, man. I'm gonna kick his ass!" he exclaims, once he manages to get enough breath again. "No. I ain't never made the beast with two backs with a beast with four legs. 'least not that I know of, and I'm pretty sure I've never been =that= drunk or someone woulda told me after. An' unicorns, I take it he didn't bother t' mention, c'n take human form."

Martin watches Ren with dawning horror, and then disbelief, and finally indignation as the laughing fit commences. He sits up a little taller, as if to gather what dignity he has left to himself. "Well, how am I supposed to know?" he says. "He never said. I just... I hope you understand it's the kind of thing I'd like to be sure about before... having dinner with someone."

Serendipity is down to a giggle, trying to quash it with his wine. "...that darkin' leech. Tellin' you, his undead ass is gonna pay for that," he remarks with far too much amusement and too little malice to be particularly worrying. He lifts a finger, taking a slow breath to compose himself again. "...an' I can understand how someone'd wanna check up on that kinda thing before hostin' dinner. Lest you serve up their ex," he agrees solemnly.

Martin's lips twitch as he tries to maintain his indignant glower, but laughter escapes, and once one giggle makes it, the rest follow. "I'd hate for you to accidentally eat the one that got away," he comments before taking another swig of wine. "I have to keep an eye on you two. I'll never know what to believe."

Serendipity's giggles break free again, prompted by Martin's, and he shakes his head, finishing off his stew. "Y'do. Can't trust either of us, ask anyone," he agrees, eyes twinkling a bit, and stretches, arms over his head, empty bread-bowl in hand. "Just... keep in mind? We aren't neither of us as bad as people seem t' think."

Martin gets to work on finishing off his stew, his appetite seeming to return with a vengeance. Shaking his head, he murmurs, "Mercy. No one has said you're bad per se, just... that children of Coyote are peculiar in their way. The only horrible things I've heard about Tristan come from Tristan himself."

Serendipity grins, and rips a bit off his bowl to nibble on. "Yeah, we're peculiar in our way," he agrees, with a touch of emphasis on the third word. "...and I'm not that surprised; Tristan's way too down on himself. He's a good guy. Better'n lots, 'cause it'd be easier not to. Y'know?" He studies Martin while he eats.

Martin keeps his gaze down as he eats, and his expression remains somewhat troubled, but it doesn't dent his appetite as he tears off bits of the gravy-soaked bowl to nibble at. "He was kind. I didn't realize a vampire could be. After the stories I heard..."

Serendipity nods a little. "He's a good guy," he repeats, a little quieter. This may be too much solemnity; he grins again, and adds conversationally, "...but I'm still gonna kick his tight li'l undead ass halfway across Katahdin." His mug seems to have become perilously near empty; he snags the wine bottle and tops up both Martin's and his own.

Martin laughs and holds out his cup for the refill. "Do you two often jest back and forth?" he asks, as though the idea of doing so were strange and fascinating. His expression grows serious then, and he adds, quieter, "I don't think he knows about... he knows the blood is good, but he doesn't know why."

Serendipity sips his drink, setting the bottle down once he's done with it. "We're friends," he replies, with a sideways smile, "...we also both tend t' speak our minds an' maybe mess with people just a little, every now an' then. Stands t' reason that'd include each other once in a while." He grins like a naughty schoolboy, and slides his leg over closer to Martin, wrapping his foot around the trader's ankle. "...does it matter? If he knows, I mean."

Martin glances toward Ren, a small smile playing upon his lips. "I don't know," he replies. "Up until I met him, I didn't know a vampire was even capable of thinking about a human being as anything more than a resource." His gaze drops to the foot in question, and he asks mildly, "Have you been safe in your peculiarities, Serendipity?"

Serendipity rests his elbow on his leg and his chin on the palm on his hand, gazing guilelessly at Martin while his foot shifts a little in idle strokes. "Fell outta a tree once," he replies, "...an' nearly off a ledge, another time. Got a couple guns waved in my gen'ral direction, things like that. Don't seem t' have done any permanent damage..."

Martin sighs and ruffles Ren's hair indulgently. "I just want to be sure you didn't pick up anything unsavory to share with your friends," he explains. Quickly, he adds, "Not that I think you're not a wonderful man. It's just that you seem a little careless."

Serendipity grins, and bats his lashes at Martin. "I like t'think of it as care=free=," he replies cheekily, and reaches up to catch the blond's hand by the wrist and draw it toward his mouth. He kisses the back of it several times, softly, and then turns it over. "'f it makes you more comfortable," kiss, "by every measure I know of t' check by," kiss, "I'm in mint condition." He kisses the base of the palm again, then drags the tip of his tongue in a slow line from the pulse point of the wrist up through the middle of the hand.

Martin's breath catches, and he stares at Ren; he's just that easily distracted. "So you're at least checking," he murmurs. "Good. Good, I... I have to stay healthy." He blinks a little bit, glancing around in some confusion, though he doesn't draw his hand away as he sets the remnants of the bread bowl aside.

Serendipity draws a little spiral on the middle of Martin's palm with his tongue. "Sure wouldn't wanna make you sick," he murmurs warmly -- and a little indistinctly -- before continuing the licked trail up along and around the trader's index finger, and drawing the end of it slowly into his mouth. His eyes stay on the blond's face the whole time; he's just shameless.

Martin can't help but glance back to Ren and his eyes meet the kin's gaze an stay there. That particular brand of shamelessness is something he just seems wired to respond to, or to at least stare at with rapt fascination. "Right," he whispers. "Wouldn't want to get sick... do you want to...?" He gestures vaguely toward the lean-to with its bedroll of blankets.

Serendipity pulls the finger in a little deeper, then finally sets it free, flicking his tongue over the tip of it again as it withdraws. "Yeah," he half-purrs in reply, still keeping Martin's gaze. He loosens his grip on the other man's wrist and slides his hand down, twining their fingers together, as he rises languidly to his feet.

Martin rises with him, shivering a little in the cool mountain air. He seems transfixed, drawing Ren toward the lean-to in a way that seems almost like servitude, but willingly so.