Opening Night

[Trillian]

"Pisky.  Didn't really plan on being there though, was just cutting through it to visit my brother.  Fledge brother.  Um, you met Ichabod?" Ben asked, unsure if Sebastian and Jenna had made the rounds enough to bump into Kerr's other fledgling.  All he remembered about it was the incident about the ghost (who he felt bad about not following through on getting details of - just another thing to be a failure about, he supposed) and the way he'd danced with her using Sebastian's body.  It had been very peculiar, and Ben had documented it all, but those notes had just been put aside.  Maybe later he'd dig them out.  He wondered briefly if the ghost would show up here, considering there was a lot of supernatural activity here too - but likely not, because it was just vampires and humans - not the hodge-podge of demons, fae, shifters and such that were at the Oligarchy masquerade ball.  He realised he'd been drifting, and couldn't remember what answer Sebastian had given him about Ichabod.  "He's a good guy," he said of Ichabod, but couldn't shake the feeling that he wouldn't be seeing too much of Ichabod anymore.


There was such a sign - a freestanding bronze plaque in fact, that was emblazoned with black lettering: 'Tours' - just off one side of the bar.  Nobody was there at the sign, but a few vampires were milling nearby, chatting to one another as they waited, with drinks in hand.  Vincent counted four servers floating about in this area, and figured there would be a lot more upstairs.  What was fascinating, was that they each seemed to know who was serving whom, for Vincent and Owen hadn't been approached, except for empty glasses to be swept up and away whenever they landed on one of the available surfaces like the coffee table nearby.

"It's a much smoother operation, here," Vincent said, and made the same observation about the club that Ben had without realising it: High class sleaze.  There were still donors available for the VIPs only, and there was still the undercurrent of blood and sex.  There was more subtlety about now, though.  The rules were clearer, the security less prominent but still obvious to someone who looked for it.  Ancient beings were scattered around, making chitchat and keeping a watchful eye.  The owners, or contacts made by the owners, though Vincent had heard many rumours about the owners being a vampire nest of Ancients who lived together in one big house.  In a city like this, being invisible was impossible, but being secretive was not.  They managed to keep themselves private even while running a very public club.  It was impressive, to say the least.  He couldn't translate all of this knowledge to Owen, but his short sentence was enough to tell Owen that Vincent believed Venture to be better than Risk.  "I saw the starting point for the tours when I came in," he said, and glanced at the clock over the bar - a huge, vintage circular thing.  It was almost five minutes to the hour.  "Not long before a new one starts.  Let's make ourselves obvious," he said with a sideways grin, and stood up, holding his half-full glass of blood before downing it and finding someone at his elbow almost immediately to take it away on a silver tray.  He breathed a puff of incredulity and waggled his eyebrows at Owen.

[Existentially Odd]

"Briefly," Dom replied, his expression innocent as he pointedly ignored Gene's accusatory look.  He could tell his buddy had a few drinks under his belt (he'd been able to tell that over the phone) so he hoped he wouldn't get too riled at him for getting Sam to help him get into the club.  He'd done it so they could enjoy the place together, after all... except now it seemed Sam wasn't going anywhere.  That hadn't been part of his plan exactly, but he could roll with it and see where it took them.  He had to wonder where Vomas was, though (Gene had taken to bemoaning Sam and Vomas' relationship a time or two with a lot more drinks in him than he was currently holding, but he wasn't about to discuss that now.

"Hey, look, a booth to sit in!" Dom exclaimed, as if he hadn't been sitting in it (it was not far from the stairs and away from most of the action on the dancefloor, so it hadn't been hotly sought after) and had stood conveniently beside it when he'd spied Gene and Sam heading up the stairs.  His smile was broad as he flopped back into it, cradling his water and looking expectantly at his companions.

After a brief look around - noting that he still had line of sight to Ben from this position, though he didn't lookf or long - Sam sat opposite Dom, moving in enough that Gene had the choice of who he sat beside.  From the way the mortal had just let go of his hand and wiped his jeans, Sam thought it unlikely that it would be him that was chosen.  And why would it be?  He'd been nothing but inappropriate with the pretty mortal, coming onto him more than once, letting him know what lewd things he wanted to do with him when Gene had been nothing but polite about it.  Now here they were, having not seen each other for months and not having spoken in almost as long and he was keen to use Gene again, for his own nefarious purposes.  It wasn't fair and he wouldn't blame the mortal for wanting to keep his distance.

"Don't be mad at Dom," Sam encouraged Gene with a gentle smile, running his fingers through his hair and smiling at the mortal no matter where he sat.  He rested his elbows on the table before him, his hands loosely clasped.  "I couldn't leave you hanging around outside, hoping to get in on the hottest party in town," he shrugged affably, tilting his head as a few stray hairs curled close to his right eye.  Bitterly, he thought of Vomas, who didn't care how much he could be having at this shindig, but who'd rather be networking and he wished things were different.  Being close to Gene couldn't change that.  "I haven't seen you in too long, how've you been keeping?" he asked Gene, though he included Dom with a look, to be polite.

Dom raised his eyebrows as he thought of all that he knew about how well Gene was doing (or wasn't doing, as the case often was) and suddenly became very interested in what the water in his glass looked like when it was swirling around.  He didn't dare offer any sort of answer to that question until he'd figured out how cool Gene wanted to play things.  He'd go along with whatever was said, no matter what way it went.

Owen found himself gazing raptly at Vincent, suddenly shy when watching him pull cute faces and smile at him.  He couldn't help but respond, mirroring his expressions and actions (though he'd already finished his drink by the time he stood up) and casting surreptitious glances at his sire as they surrendered their empty glasses and went over to the start point for the tours.  His hands were restless so he shoved them into pockets (where they continued to fret at one another anyway), determined to look around and try to guess at what this tour would reveal, rather than looking dopily at the man who'd turned his life upside down in more ways than just one.  It was alien to him, to feel so mesmerised by Vincent after everything they'd been through.

"A smoother operation," he mused, tasting the words as he also noticed the wait staff unobtrusively serving the populace around them.  "But how different from Risk could it really be?" he challenged, sounding more cynical than he meant to for he'd enjoyed his time at Risk.  He wasn't going to be so easily wooed by a club that seemed like it was just trying to be classier, with a better quality of furnishings, at this stage.

[realworldweirdo]

Conner wasn't very good at reading body language, but he did notice that Vomas was watching something and it got his attention. Following his gaze led him to Sam, standing with a human who looked remotely familiar. He respected that in a man, the constant attention to his subordinates' business meetings. The dedication to the job was flawless.

"Another establishment would be a good idea," Conner mused aloud, running his right index finger along the back of his left hand, tracing a knuckle bone under his skin. "I'd very much enjoy seeing it in person. The City Ward will be able to provide security service, if you'd like. I'm afraid I've been draining the talent pool somewhat dry. Actually, would you care for a tour of our facilities, as well? You'd be the first District Leader to have an official tour of the premises. Mutual unveiling?"

Not to mention it might help dispel some of the rumors he'd been hearing that the City Ward intended to overthrow this District Leader or another. Wanting to escape the various bits of advice he'd gotten from his staff, he focused his thoughts on the suspicious and tempting glass of blood he'd been presented with. He froze the liquid, then used telekinesis to lift it out of the glass. He had to poke it with his finger to get it to turn over, which he did absently without really taking his eyes off Vomas, and then lowered it back into the vessel slowly. It sat there, awkwardly, a block of frozen blood lopsided in the otherwise elegant glass. It was mere moments before a server came and discreetly whisked it away, pausing to see if Vomas was done with his as well, before vanishing toward the bar again. God, but he felt out of place politicizing right now, and where were Jake and Scott?

[Saiketsu]

Maybe it was just her experience, but she was always amazed by how fucking rich all vampires were. After Sam had handed over the necklace, she began to assume that this seemingly endless flow of money was something that naturally came to vampires - though how they all did it was way beyond her comprehension. She stood there awe-struck for a moment, unable to say anything to her friend that would communicate her surprise and appreciation fully. Instead she just looked at the necklace and whispered "Sam!" with a laugh and smile. "You're fucking nuts, you know that?" She laughed and threw her long arms around her friend. Who else would buy her a necklace? "Oh my god, I love it!" She could feel her cheeks burning brightly as she looked down at it.

She wasn't exactly used to seeing her name written down - let alone engraved in anything fancy - unless she was the one doing the writting; even then it was sort of scribbled so that no one who cared would be able to tell the difference between the number of letters in her old name and her new one. But seeing it pressed legibly into metal, decorated with Opals, and put on a chain and presented to her was something she never, ever imagined in her new life. It had been too difficult to even get her parents to use her new name and pronouns - even now her mom still wrote out her old name and used male pronouns every now and then when sending out Christmas cards or mailing something to her apartment - and everyone else just assumed that Levinia was the name she was given at birth unless Levvy herself told them differently. Before she had transitioned officially, some people had no idea what she was and would go out of their way to avoid any interaction with someone whose gender wasn't particularly obvious. She had chosen the name Levinia so she could feel more at home in her body and in her head, and because she felt like a Levinia. The day in high school when she had officially decided on her name, she had written it down several dozen times and repeated it in her head a hundred more just to make sure she was doing the right thing. Ever since, she had fought so hard to be Levvy, or Levinia, at least to the people who didn't know her otherwise. And after all of the body-shifting and transition, she had signed way too many documents to leave her old name and identity behind. So when she opened the box and saw that the name was hers, her real name, something hit her deeply and started to make her eyes well up. She blinked them away, feeling way too embarrassed to get into that kind of discussion tonight. The blonde fingered the necklace after she released Sam from her bearhug and looked at it with a sort of reverence that overwhelmed the fact that Sam had basically given her an expensive piece of jewelry - and was only missing a question as to whether or not Levvy wanted to marry her.

"Thank you, Sammy!" She kept her arm around Sam's shoulders for a long moment after. "Here," Levvy said, pulling the necklace out of the box and stringing it around myself. "Help me put it on!" She offered the clasps to Sam who had a better view of how the thing would work. Not to mention Sam was a bit more sober than she was at the moment.

[Harlequin]

Morgaine watched the bartender move off with a half-smile, huffing air out of her nose as Levvy renewed contact with her old boss. As the gift was presented, the singer realized that her attention was beginning to border on voyeuristic and she slid out of her stool, snatching her drink off the bar as if someone was going to steal it from her. Her gaze wandered to the place where she'd left Vivianne – eyes narrowed as she found the blonde still there, fidgeting and biting her pretty glossed-up lip. The singer stalked up to her like a tiger – all swaying hips and too-toothy grin – and grasped her harpist by the elbow.

The blonde startled,, eyes wide as saucers, lookign for all the world like a frightened deer, though it was Morgaine that wore the antlers "Oh! Em, I was just about to–"

"Do absolutely jack and shit. C'mon, we're gonna get you socialized."

To be fair, 'absolutely jack and shit' sounded pretty much exactly what Vivianne had been gearing up to do, but hey, Morgaine didn't need to  call her out like that. Vivianne's mouth twisted in displeasure, but Morgaine was already leading her away, downstairs – toward a couple of fellas who appeared to be waiting for something. A tour of the joint, declared the sign they were loitering around. Normally Vivianne would only be interested int he areas she would likely be frequenting – namely, backstage – but Morgaine seemed to be intent on plundering all the secrets the new venue had to offer. She approached the couple with a wolfish grin, her fairy princess in tow.

"Man, these are some digs, huh?" she said to the dark-haired half of the pair – whom she took for a vampire due to the paleness of his skin and the fact that he looked like he was a body double for the star of some Hitchcock movie. Vivianne's eyes flickered between the two men, a pained, apologetic smile painting her features.

~

Meanwhile, a third member of Wild Hunt made her debut, shoulders square and bristling with the spikes of her leather vest as she entered alongside her sire – who, it turned out, had not tried to force her into anything froofy. Since her siring, he'd more stopped overtly trying to fit her into any molds, it seemed. For that, she was grateful. Not grateful enough not to take full advantage, however – hence the spiked vest, zipped up in the front only as a way to push up her tits, and ending well above her belly button. Pair that with her short leopard print shorts, torn fishnets and combat boots (topped off with impressively spiked hair) she cut quite the figure.

Her gaze swept the occupants with the precision and apathy of a predator, and her nostrils flared. Under the smells of new leather and granite and sound equipment, there was a lot of age here – but a lot of free booze, and just as much free blood. There would be time to stop and smell all the smells later, though. Right now there was new shit to explore. No longer content to let her sire take the reins, Ami nudged Cicero in the ribs with an elbow and jerked her head toward the bar, mentally expressing her desire to sink her teeth into the meat of the place.

[Saccharin]

He rolled his eyes and shook his head at his boss, knowing his innocence was far too convenient, but he sighed resignedly and took a seat anyway... next to Sam. The way he figured it, even if Dom was a manipulative bastard, he could still look at him. There was too much weird energy and tension thrumming between him and Sam (though Sam seemed unaware of its existence, so maybe it was all in his head) that he didn't think it'd be possible for him to face the vampire without going all embarrassingly googly-eyed.

Looking ahead, he could almost pretend that it wasn't Samuel he was sitting next to. But he kept brushing elbows with him and it fucking tingled and now he was talking to him. God, he missed hearing that accent, it was like being home...

"How've I been keeping?" he repeated, blinking and turning to look at Sam. Fuck, he hadn't meant to do that. He set his jaw and shrugged, but Gene didn't immediately answer, nor did he manage to look away from the vampire's handsome features. "Alright, I guess," he finally said, and then laughed abruptly. "I mean, everything going to shit aside. I'm alive. I'm here. Can't ask for much else... Except for a drink."

And almost as if on cue, a waiter appeared and smiled winningly at him. He was startled, but not enough that he didn't put in an order for a whiskey when he was asked.

-----

"Very well," Vomas agreed. "We will be in touch, then." He reached across the table, intending to shake Conner's hand, and was relieved when it was accepted without much hesitation. Conner's demonstration of power had made him uncomfortable (there weren't many he knew who were capable of telekinesis unless they were Ancient), and between that and the distraction Samuel had caused him, he wanted to wrap things up as quickly as possible.

He stood, nodded, and then turned promptly, looking for a path to the stairs before he stopped himself. Curiosity burned at him, but he couldn't give into the temptation to follow and spy on Sam. His partner was allowed to have time with mortals, even if it was the very mortal Sam had admitted he was attracted to and had gone out of his way to spend time with. And never mind the fact that he'd had him pull strings for Gene while he'd been an Oligarch. 

He took a deep breath, focusing on the sensation of air expanding and then being forced from his lungs. None of that should matter. He trusted, Samuel, didn't he?

Yet his feet led him towards the stairs, and he couldn't make himself stop a second time.

[pinkroses]

“From a distance. He didn’t look in too much of a party mood that night,” Sebastian said with a smalls shrug at the comment about whether he knew Ichabod. He’d been there with Jenna – going around meeting her old flame’s fledglings hadn’t been top of his list of things to do. Although he had spent more time with Ben than he’d meant to. Physically at least.

“You don’t sound quite convinced of that,” Sebastian added, tilting his head to one side slightly to watch Ben as the blonde spoke about his brother. “As least you do have him and you’re making the effort to keep up with him. I didn’t want to see anyone. Perhaps it would be different with someone I was bonded with,” he added. He hadn’t even had a fledgling, no one he’d wanted to stay around for. Maybe things would have been different then.

[Trillian]

"No, he is," Ben insisted as soon as Sebastian indicated he wasn't sure of Ichabod's character, but he said nothing more on the matter.

And there it was again, the non-fledgling-making vampires that Ben couldn't comprehend.  Oh, he wasn't about to start making fledges now, he was too young to look after anyone else, and incapable of guiding someone else through shit he still had no idea about - but he couldn't imagine going through eternity entirely on his own.  Maybe with a couple of centuries under his belt he would start looking for someone who was appropriate, but he wouldn't close the door on it.

"No blood bonds at all, then?" he confirmed, because Sebastian had only alluded to it after all and not said directly that there was nobody else.  "No fledges floating around?" he sat back in his against the booth cushion after clarifying what he'd meant by his first question.  From here he could see who came up the twirly stairs from the downstairs lounge area, and he recognised Vomas when his head and shoulders appeared, over Sebastian's shoulder.  His gaze flicked back easily enough, for he had nothing to say to the ex-Oligarch and hoped that the tall, regal looking vampire would have nothing to say to him.  So far only Conner had paid Ben and Ichabod a visit, everyone else had been conversed with over the phone.  After so much time had passed, he didn't think anybody else would have a piece of him or offer condolences.  Vomas didn't pass him by though, and he looked back again to see that the vampire had disappeared.  Wait, what?  He turned his frown to Sebastian, figuring that Vomas must've gone back down again.  That was pretty weird.


The indian woman with the face tattoos had Vincent smiling at her indulgently as soon as she made conversation.  As she and her led companion moved closer, Vincent could see a hint of scarring beneath the tattoos, which explained their presence to him more than her thoughts or words could.  All of this was noted in an instant, as well as her unfashionably retro choice of words - or perhaps it was fashionable now, it was hard for Vincent to keep up.  He'd been accused of looking like Old Hollywood for some decades now, so what would he know?

"I agree, and I doubt we yet have the full story," Vincent remarked politely and a little over-loudly due to the pair joining them being mortal.  His smile drifted between the newcomer and the blonde nervous woman behind her before it returned to the more confident of the two.  "If you're joining us on the tour, we should trade names.  I'm Vincent," he said, offering only his first name and then looking at Owen to do the same.  He thought it would be best not to speak for his fledge - though he never really had.  Owen had spoken for him a number of times; the most notable time was when they'd met Sabri, and the result had been mixed.


Cicero was dressed not so differently than he usually was, in a satin white shirt over dark blue jeans and black hiking shoes on his feet.  There was no jewellery on him, he had no need for showy displays.  Jewellery would only accentuate his ethereal pallour.  The stark whiteness of the shirt showed that there was still colour in him - a little more than usual thanks to his drinking from a mesmerised donor on the city streets before they'd come.  He'd done it for two reasons; vanity (to which he blamed his sire, who looked a great deal less pale than himself, or maybe it was just the blonde hair), and necessity, because he'd been throwing a number of 'instruction' Ami's way.  She was quite a superior fledgling - though the only thing he couldn't assist her with was her thirst.

When Ami indicated the bar with a jab to his side, Cicero stared expressionlessly at her.  She already knew that getting drunk the usual way was impossible, and finding an inebriated donor wasn't something he'd intended her to begin her night with.  Still, he supposed it was a party, so he let her have her head (so to speak), and followed her.  Perhaps they would bump into some of her band mates.  He'd since discovered a great deal more about them from Ami, sharing her memories of them, and he found himself caring for them a little more than he cared for the rest of the herd (which was very little indeed, but by association he didn't wish any harm to come to them due to the hurt it would cause Ami).

[Saiketsu]

When he had realized that Risk was closing, he had made it into one of the final nights with Phineas, Monique, and a few other immortals whom he had met through his fledges. They had fed and had a bit more fun that night than he probably should have with his children. At the end of the night he wasn't as sober as he would have liked and had a hard time remembering that Phineas and Monique had slinked off together when morning came - that was until Jenella had reminded him of this fact with tight lips the next night when he had awoken to find the red-head sitting in his living room chair. She hadn't needed to say anything else to get Pierre to feel a bit sheepish about encouraging the entire thing with his own use of drunkard blood. Still she persisted with her lips pressed hard together and her face set to stone as she interacted with him as if everything was fine. Between her and Nadia, he couldn't figure out who had more smothering power over his human-esque desires.

Now, however, he looked upon the face of the building that was Venture. There was quite a bit of hype around the opening, and Pierre was definitely interested in finding out what it was. There had always been blood bars in this area - small, shady holes-in-walls places where the blood was illegal and inconstant, and where the bar tenders drilled you when you asked for some in a voice. Risk had been the save all of all vampire clubs and he found it to be a sort of saving grace, a sort of oasis that the immortal population clung to in an attempt to return to humanity and modern times. Pierre had laughed at the thought when he first moved to the city, but slowly it worked him over, romanced him until he took a bite - so to speak - and found it to be something enjoyable after all despite his former criticisms. But when shit had hit the fan in the Oligarchy and the talk of Risk closing started to seep through the cracks, Pierre figured he could do without - there were other, more important things to focus on after all.

Now, however, there was Venture, which he stood eyeing curiously. The building wasn't what he was expecting and he had to check his directions and the address he put into the GPS twice to be sure that he was in the right place. The lack of light and sound confused him and he felt as though he were walking into some sort of an office building for a late-night meeting, rather than a blood joint. Sure enough, there was a line of mortals out front clammering to get out of the chill and into the feeding pit, and ancients guarding the door. He was surpised by the latter's presence - half of him still expected to see Bowser, Bentley, or any of the other Mimic Demons that he had encountered at Risk. Those days were over, he supposed and walked right on past the ancients with a polite nod of his head.

He was still a bit suspect as he entered the building. It hadn't been long since the Oligrachy had dissolved, the Mimics had taken off, and the district leaders had sprouted all around the city like daisies. To his discontent, Pierre lived within Vomas' district and he had no idea what kind of little tabs were being kept on the immortal population under the District Leaders. It was a fact that made him nervous. He knew very little about Vomas; he was one the Oligarch - well, ex-Oligarch really - that they had all expected would become the next Luminary - simply because Jake seemed to lack the maturity and it would only make sense that if the vampire Luminary stepped down, there would be another vampire in his place to preserve the immortal imbalance. He and Damien had tried to keep an eye on him, but his actions were so much more private than any other Oligarch that it had been a difficult task to do. Now, however, Pierre had to deal first hand with all of the policies that Vomas had elected. Damien had missed being in his district by less than five miles - a fortunate turn of occurrences in Damien's mind. Now Damien was in neutral territory with his closests neighboring district being that of Vomas.

With his senses assailed now that he had entered, Pierre took a minute to adjust himself as his ears and nose caught up to speed. He was wearing a black Pached silk shirt with the sleeves folded to three quarters length. The shirt hugged his broad chest and shoulders tightly and made his pale skin look a bit more white. The light-washed jeans he wore fit him a bit less tightly, though still remained fashionable, especially with the worn tan belt with the silver belt buckle that helped hold them up. He chose a bit more of a casual look with white tennis-like sneakers that were accented with a few lines of red rubber around the edges. His blonde hair was slicked upwards in his usual fashion and his abdomen had been double wrapped to prevent any idiot from running into him and reinjuring his burn like Kerr had done at the Masquerade weeks and weeks ago. While Jenella was wrapping him, with a concerned look on her face that spoke more than any actual words had, he asked her to come with her. She seemed to evade the question and continued what she was doing without much else communication to her sire.

"Welcome to Venture," someone leaned over the bar and said to him as he walked too close. He jumped inwardly, his eyes darting over towards the bar tender as he realized that he had been walking around without actually taking anything in. He smiled politely and looked around for what seemed like the first time. It was certainly something, alright. "Sir," the same human called to him - for which he was much better prepared for - and offered him a glass of warmed blood along with the suggestion of a tour of the club. Blindly, Pierre took it, thanked him, and headed in the general direction the human had pointed.

"Might as well," he whispered to himself, joining a group of vampires and humans that stood waiting in a shapeless blob near a sign that said Tours. 


"Vanilla Rum and Coke, please," Quinn said to the bartender with a flirty hint in his voice. If the lighting was only slightly worse, Quinn may not have noticed the flicker of the same kind of smile on the boy's face. Behind the counter he started working his hands grabbing the glass, the ice, the straw, the coke. The dancer watched him with a touch of interest as he moved nice and quick to please his customer. He had a nice face and arms, but everything else was only so-so. Still, the human enjoyed watching him move about the bar, and then into the back room to get a new vanilla rum. Unashamedly, he watched the other's hips and ass move as he walked away and then turned his gaze back out to Tommy, who had the same vampire kissing at his neck as he did when Quinn had left. His ocean-blue eyes lingered on his best friend a bit longer than was polite and saw Tommy's hand reach under the table and make a nearly-invisible notion to stroke the other's leg - or something else. He turned his attention back towards the counter to see the boy holding his drink out to him with a smirk. "Thanks," he responded with a wink to the bartend and then turned away from the liquor station, noticing vaguely that the color of his drink was utterly perfect.

When he told Jerry about Risk closing down, he seemed unphased by such knowledge. He remembered looking at him, a vampire, puzzled that there was no concern about the biggest blood bar in the city closing its doors forever. Such apathy had become all too appearant to Quinn the more time he and Jerry spent together and it actually started to concern the human - not becasue he thought that Jerry should care about Risk - but because the only thing that he seemed to care about was fucking and going to the Pompeii. For a while after Quinn and John had broken up that was really all he cared about as well - he had even stopped pressuring Jerry to be his partner and had just settled for the occassional fuck. For the first few months, Quinn found the sex, the lack of expectations, the dancing, and the ease of their situation very liberating and he actually began to believe that he could get used to such a life style.

Then he started noticing little things about Jerry. Tiny, miniscule things that he questioned whether they were actually there or in his own imagination. It was the way Jerry spoke about the things he did. It was the way he expressed things. It was the way he didn't do much besides feed and fuck. It occurred to Quinn that there was a general lack of care about the things that happened around him as long as his routine wasn't interrupted. More than once he tried to get the vampire out of his apartment for something other than sex, which sometimes happened but always ended in them screwing. While the sex was decent, it wasn't passionate like it had been with John when things were good. It wasn't anything but... sex. So Quinn became more insistant upon getting the vampire to break his routine. He invited him to the night games of volleyball that Quinn played in the town next door - oddly, the thought of eight shirtless men flexing muscles on a beach didn't entice him - or to the places he went with Tommy and his flings. The only thing that ended up happening was Quinn playing third wheel to all of Tommy's ventures with his partners and a growing sense of discouragement in the human that left a cigarette burn of bitterness towards the vampire. Still he went back and kept his mouth shut and curled up in bed with him when the sun came up as if they were more than just lovers.

He reflected on this as he watched Tommy and the vampire - whose name Quinn still didn't know - rise from the booth and head towards the feeding rooms. Typical, Quinn sighed, wishing that Jerry were here with him. They weren't exclusive by any stretches of the imagination, but he was still the one that Quinn wanted to be laughing with and being fed from right now - not that they ever did that anyway. Instead he stood by the booth by himself in a tight button-up polo tee that gave him a nice profile. He even had the first two buttons undone and no one to share it with. His jeans were a dark shade of smoky gray and looked almost black in the dim lighting. A white belt kept did more accenting work than any real good for him, but he liked it that way. The human walked around on low-top black and white converse as he shifted from one foot to another for a few seconds before taking a long gulp of the rum and coke. His insides began to feel warm and a bit more normal than before as he began to wander around the club. In the back of his mind, he wondered if he was going to recognize anyone - after all, the Pompeii was only a couple blocks from here. Maybe a small exploration of the club would give him motivation to not want to gouge Jerry's eyes out of his skull.

[Existentially Odd]

Owen looked curiously at the women who joined their small group, liking that the loud one elicited a similarly-themed response from Vincent; his sire was impressed with the setup here already, he knew, but the way he said they hadn't got the full story assured Owen that Vincent was still mildly uncertain about what Venture had to offer, as he was.  It made him feel aligned with his sire once more and there was something comforting about that.

"I'm Owen," he responded on cue, smiling from the brunette to the blonde.  It felt mildly peculiar to him that Vincent hadn't just identified him to the women but it wasn't a big enough deal that he said anything about it; it was more just a momentary sensation of surprise before he inserted his name obediently.  Even now, after all their troubles, he was connected enough to Vincent to not see a need for differentiation and perhaps it was an ignorant sign of his youth that he didn't see any boundaries over who introduced who.  Had he known Vincent took special care with such things he'd be thoroughly surprised and deeply touched to be considered thus (and he'd change accordingly).

The fledgling's gaze flicked from the human women to an older vampire beyond them.  He'd walked up holding his glass of blood and stood nearby in a manner that suggested he'd join the tour too.  Owen's vague smile automatically included the other, because he'd happened along just as he was announcing his name, though he hadn't intended to introduce himself to anyone walking by.

~8~

When Jeanne noticed that Vomas and Conner were free of their conversation, she moved in to greet them personally (and on behalf of the Sacramentum).  She went towards Vomas first but he seemed determined to get up the stairs and she was blocked by the crowds (for she'd been loitering in the shadows) so that by the time she reached the bottom, he was already heading up.  Wasting no time calling out gauchely, she simply got his attention by pressing into his mind a desire to speak with him.  He was young but mentally nimble and he'd appreciate the depth and warmth of her request summoning him back.

When he turned to look at her, he'd find her smiling serenely up at him, her hands clasped loosely before her.  She wore a statuesque Marchesa gown, the train puddled at her stiletto-clad feet and her own deep mahogany hair on display, short and smoothed in a chic style around her beautiful face.  She would wait until he returned to her before she spoke, not wishing to intrude upon Vomas' mind any more than she had to; not only was it presumptuous, but she didn't need to be giving out contact with her own mind so freely.

~8~

Sam frowned as Gene told him his life had gone downhill, momentarily distracted by a waiter appearing to take drink orders.  Gene ordered a whiskey, Dom asked for more water and Sam refused a drink at all.  He hadn't really examined his motives behind such a move, but it wouldn't take too much digging beneath the surface to acknowledge the temptation he was surrounded by, with two strong, healthy mortals and their delicious pulses sitting so close to him.  If he was going to drink, he knew on a very primal level that he didn't want it to be from a glass, he wanted it to be from one of these two (Gene).

"What do you mean your life's gone to shit?" Sam enquired worriedly once the waiter had disappeared.  He turned a little, his body opening up towards Gene as he grasped the mortal's elbow, his expression showing that he was concerned by the beautiful southerner's pessimism.

Dom's gaze was also concerned, though he knew what Gene was talking about because he'd been the sounding board regarding the events - and the catalyst in one instance - and he knew how deeply they'd affected the man that had become his best friend.  He thought it would be a good thing if Gene started opening up about this stuff so he stayed quiet, his gaze flicking between the two men opposite him, breathlessly hoping he'd tell Sam everything and share the burden, rather than internalising his fears.  And trying to drink them away, which really didn't work.

[Harlequin]

"Morgaine," the singer introduced herself, letting go of Vivianne's elbow to gesture to her chest, "This is –"

"Vivianne. Hi." The blonde interrupted with a nervous smile, standing up a little straighter. If she got the jump on putting herself out there, Vivi figured maybe Morgaine would stay off her case.

Probably not, though.

"We're with the house band," Morgaine explained after shooting her companion a surprised look, masked by the long pull she took of her drink.

"Wild Hunt," Vivianne corrected. She knew it was easier to explain to most vampires (who couldn't be fucked to remember anything about a gaggle of mortals) that they were just 'the house band', but the Hunt was so much more than that.

Morgaine rolled her eyes, but had time to make no more snarky comments as her attention was caught by a new arrival – and her thoughts on him were clear as day as her hungry gaze raked his form. Vivianne sighed as the singer slunk closer to the new blonde, all swaying hips and pouty lips.

"Sorry," she said to the pair Morgaine had engaged and abandoned in record time, "She's kind of a Magpie." If Morgaine heard her, she gave no indication of such.

~

Ami missed being drunk, but that wasn't the reason she took them to the bar – no, she liked it there because that's where the view was. If it was designed well, the bar always offered the best view of a place and she wanted to scope the crowd. All vampires and Humans so far, by the smell of things. Though, to be fair, if there was anything else there, she was probably putting its scent down to new-building bullshit.

She caught sight of Jeanne as they skirted the dancefloor, and looked over her shoulder to see if her sire had as well.

Either way, the woman appeared to be engaged with someone else – and probably better left alone. As they reached the bar, a waiter approached with warmed glasses of blood on a tray – one of which Ami accepted hesitantly, frowning. Looking at the viscous liquid, she was reminded of the first time the band had played Risk; she and Chance had been about to force a glass down their Human throats before a vampire – Kerr was his name – pointed out what a terrible idea that was. Whatever happened to that fuck? He was the Luminary for awhile, but now what was he?

She mused on how different blood looked when not splashed on the pavement, frowning into the glass despite her gnawing thirst. Something seemed fundamentally wrong to her about drinking this way. Dishonest, maybe.

[Saccharin]

Gene could feel the coolness of Sam's fingers on his elbow, even through the fabric of his dark green flannel shirt, but he didn't try to pull away from his grasp like he probably should've. He was torturing himself, imagining how it'd feel if the vampire used his grip to gather him up for a hug. It would be unlike the hug they'd shared outside (where he'd only managed to briefly bat Sam's back before contact was broken), and would make everything okay. But that was just about as pathetic as he was, and he knew it with such sudden clarity that he made a pained face and shook his head. Sam couldn't hug away his problems, not the sort he had.

"It's like this really bad country song," Gene said, laughing again with a hint of bitterness in his husky voice. "Truck died, Dom almost died but I... I don't know, then mom's gone off the deep end, done sold the farm because she doesn't want to be reminded of my dad... who ain't my dad, by the way, because it was actually an angel."

He leaned forward and rubbed his face with the heel of his palms, then pushed his fingers upwards into his hair and then over, so he was clutching at the back of his skull. "An angel," he repeated, snorting. "So I'm going to have to figure out where the nearest mental hospital is so I can put her in there, I guess," he added glumly.

Gene lowered his hands and looked at Sam with a sardonic smile, his hair sticking up wildly. "But hey, 'nough about me. How've you been keeping?"

-----

Vomas had nearly made it to the top of the stairs when he felt the hand of someone far older and more experienced than him touch his mind. He stopped immediately and turned, innately aware that it had originated below him rather than above. It didn't take him long to find the face that was just as lovely as the mental presence (and really, there was only one individual looking at him expectantly), and his expression became one of polite enquiry as he went back down the stairs and to the Ancient.

[Existentially Odd]

Sam could only gape at Gene, his eyes wide with disbelief.  His hand fell away from the mortal's elbow as he rubbed at his face but it moved to Gene's back, sliding gently back and forth between his shoulder blades as the vampire struggled to comprehend all that he was being told.  Gene's father was an angel?  So he was part supernatural?  No wonder he was so damn good looking.  And the farm was being sold because of his not-dad, as well as Dom almost died?  He blinked and the action wasn't able to shift his stunned expression, so he turned it on Dom instead.

"You almost died?" he queried, nonplussed.

Dom was exceptionally pleased that Sam was going ahead with spilling his guts, even though, in his drunkenness, he hadn't explained anything particularly well.  That was okay, though, because Dominic was pleased to be able to pick up the pieces in an entirely different way; by initiating another member into the 'Gene's Shit Life' club.  Of course, the fact that the guy he was telling was actually a sub-point on that agenda was a slight issue - because Gene had waxed lyrical about what a great guy Sam was often enough that Dom had guessed the score was squarely in the vampire's favour where Gene was concerned - but it was a start and beggars couldn't be choosers, they said.

"Yeah, one of my now-ex-employees didn't map the electrical cables right in a yard we were working on, so I cut straight into it and took way too many volts to the heart.  Threw me clear across the lawn and when I landed I was dead.  My heart had stopped and I was out for the count - even saw a white light at the end of a tunnel but when I went into it, it turned out the light was Gene, running over and touching me and using his angel powers to bring me back to life.  That's how we found out he was so special, when he saved my life," Dom said proudly, smiling with genuine admiration at his best buddy and employee.

Sam followed the look, unintentionally mirroring it.  "You saved his life!" he echoed with awe, squeezing Gene in a manner that pulled him up against him in the booth, pressing their sides together.  "That's amazing!"

Dom watched Gene about to protest - as he always humbly did whenever he'd tried to thank him in any way beyond a simple, 'Thanks' - but cut in first.  "He'll tell you he didn't mean it, that he had no idea how he did it, but it doesn't change the fact that it happened.  I'm here tonight because of him; I owe him my world," Dom said, tipping his glass of water respectfully in Gene's direction, his white teeth shining with pleasure.

Sam looked at that smile, into those eyes and thought he saw something stronger than admiration and gratitude flowing out of Dominic, and something resentful sparked way down inside him.  These two likely spent a lot of time together and they were obviously very special to each other.  Sam couldn't help but imagine them naked and writhing against one another in the heat of passion; why wouldn't they have become lovers when the mood suited them?  They were both single, good looking and consenting, it was inevitable.  Nothing would've stopped him in Dominic's position.  He really didn't like the thought of it, though he had no right to even think it so of course he wouldn't say it.

He turned to look approvingly at Gene, realising he was now close enough to wrap his arm around his back, so he did, letting it fall at a natural angle that kind of left his hand cupping the outside of Gene's ass.  Just then, the mortal's whiskey and Dom's new water arrived and Sam's hand stayed in place while Dom insisted on paying for Gene's drink and handed over his empty water glass with the money to the waiter.  When it was just them again, Sam found his face quite close to Gene's, looking at his profile with a soft smile as he drank enthusiastically from his drink.  "Well, it seems like your story completely overshadows my little rant about how I haven't really seen my boyfriend in a couple of months, now that he's establishing a fancy new place as District Leader and I think my relationship's pretty well dead, 'cept for the dirge being played.  Reckon even an angel could't revive it, at this point," he joked, the humour not reaching his eyes as he voiced his true fears for the first time.

As flippantly as they were said, there was a lot of raw emotion beneath the words and Dominic could see even from across the table that Sam was hurting because he truly thought his relationship with Vomas was over.  Something about that didn't sit well in the Samoan-American's breast at all, and his back stiffened automatically as he looked at the vampire.  "That's a shame," he said without emotion, his lips pressing together when the speaking was done because he didn't want to add the rest of what he was thinking; that if Sam was single again, he doubted he'd have Gene as his best friend for much longer.  Jealousy burned in him, unvoiced.

Sam looked apologetically across at Dom.  "Yeah, but really, compared to all you two have been through, it's just another one of those parts of life, isn't it?  Like this place," he shrugged, looking around momentarily, to highlight the fact that he was talking about Venture.  "All because two men decided to write some shit they shouldn't have, the Oligarchy died, we lost everything we'd worked so hard for and had to find a new way to live.  Things were bound to get lost in amongst all that upheaval, right?" he asked Dom with another forced smile, his head tilting in a very brief moment of jauntiness.

Dom gnawed on the inside of his lip as he looked back at the vampire, unsure how to respond to such obvious bitterness spoken in a lighthearted tone and he didn't feel any better when Sam followed it up with a hollow laugh and looked at Gene some more.  "We're a terribly cheerful pair, aren't we?" he grinned at Gene, the expression nothing like what he was talking about.  "Maybe we should take ourselves somewhere else and give Dom some relief from our maudlin conversation, hmm?" he suggested, not really meaning it because he hadn't put any thought into where else that could be; on a conscious level, anyway.

~8~

"Hello, Vomas," Jeanne greeted in her heavily-accented voice, holding her left hand out towards him.  Most notable about this action was the fact that it wasn't turned sideways for him to shake, but rather drooped from the wrist, palm down, in the manner of a woman who is used to men kissing her pale skin reverently.  Her smile was inherently sensual and it sparkled in her eyes as she regarded his countenance, for she found his appearance alluring on many levels, though her tells on this opinion would be next to impossible for him to read, since he didn't know her at all.  "I am Jeanne D'Arshan," she introduced herself fluidly, waiting to release the rest of her message when their greetings had concluded.

[Saiketsu]

Pierre's casual stroll towards the group allowed him to catch the tail end of their conversation - along with Morgaine's eager gaze over him which he found amusing. It wasn't often that he received such blatant recognition from the other gender - usually it was girls who got his attention by not staring at him. Despite the unfamiliarity of the situation, he wasn't put off by her, but smiled to himself and took another sip of the blood in his hand.

Pierre remained standing off the shoulders of a group of four - two humans and two vampires, one of which felt not much younger than himself - and listened as they went around and introduced themselves to each other, placing their names and faces from the corner of his eye as he pretended to be paying attention elsewhere. Pierre let a moment pass before he said anything at all to the group, letting his eyes travel around the club as he thought of something unobtrusive to start a conversation with. With the ease and confidence as if he had been invited to interact with them all, the Frenchman leaned in to the circle and announced himself with a charming smirk

"Never thought I'd be at a nightclub that gave tours," he said looking around at the group directly for the first time with that same smirk that had always made people at ease around him. "I'm Pierre, by the way," he added with his best American accent, only a hint of his heritage slipping out into the words as he held out a hand to greet anyone who obliged him. There was still that hint of accentuation that came out with every word and if anyone were actually paying attention over the din of the music, they would hear it.

No matter if his greeting was accepted with reluctance, ambivilance, or glee, he would take it all in strive, shifting the conversation to something more interesting than his or anyone else's name. "This place seems a lot bigger and higher-class than Risk was. I'm just hoping that whoever built this place keep that whole live-out-your-fantasy feeding-room idea. I got sucked into a princess room once and I couldn't take the place seriously after that."

[Trillian]

He smiled at each woman and repeated her name when it was offered to him.  It was the best method he had for remembering names, and even though he could peripherally see another joining their little foursome, he did little to acknowledge him because the women were continuing their conversation with him.  When Morgaine turned to eye off the newcomer, prompting a very funny comment from Vivianne, Vincent laughed, but still made comment on an earlier declaration.

"Wild Hunt," Vincent repeated.  "Sounds appropriate for a wolf bar as well as for vampires," he commented, with a light touch on his nose.  He was fairly sure that there were no wolf bars in the city, but it wasn't like the weres would advertise their locations either, nor would Vincent go out of his way to find them.  He would prefer to know simply to avoid them, in fact.  These two women were an opportunity to find out if there was one in the city, because musicians always seemed to know the clubs and hangouts, no matter how opulent or seedy.

Before Vivianne had a chance to comment, the joining vampire interjected into the conversation smoothly.  Vincent supposed that his comment could've been interpreted as rhetorical, but he was still miffed that he hadn't a chance to easily explore a werewolf hangout conversation.  He would have to bring it up again later, and such a thing would likely need another opportunity unless he wanted to appear inquisitive.  He would, if he had to, but that was for later.  Right now he paid attention to Pierre with an appropriately polite smile, shaking his hand and then agreeing with a light nod and murmur that Venture indeed looked to be bigger and more exclusive than Risk had hoped for.  The location of the first club had been limiting, Vincent thought.

The last comment about not taking Risk seriously becuase of the Princess room was meant to be a joke, Vincent knew, but his humour was stifled by the fact he now had a vampire of the same age near him.  At least the man wasn't Ancient, but Vincent was always uncomfortable when forced to deal with those on a more intimate level who could be mentally stronger than himself.  He knew he was limited in many things; telekinesis was the most obvious, the way things charged about the room when under his 'control'.  He knew there were many more talents that he was limited in - planting ideas, fighting off planted impulses, the list went on.  Sabri had shown Vincent exactly how helpless he was (though most were, when Ancient beings were around) by sending him on his own tour around his mansion while Sabri toyed with Owen.  He didn't particularly want to put himself in a position where someone could do it again.  Still, despite his discomfort, he gave Pierre a light nod and short chuckle, acknowledging the words and the paltry joke, and then looked at Owen to see what he was thinking of the newcomer.  He was fighting his instinct to put a protective (and possessive) arm around Owen's shoulder or waist, and so he pocketed his hands instead, to keep them from performing some misguided action.


Cicero hadn't missed the look and emotions that ran through Ami when she spied Jeanne a short distance away.  Because the other Ancient wasn't looking at them, Cicero also ignored her and continued after his fledge.  There had been an intensity with the two women that Cicero had wanted to indulge with again - even though he'd been left out last time and believed he would likely be left out every time.  He hadn't pestered Ami for what had happened because he knew it had been extraordinarily good.  He hoped Jeanne would be free later, at an opportune time for him to put Ami in front of her again.

When they got to the bar, he noticed a small group milling about, and noticed that Vivianne and Morgaine were also there.  He touched their minds to understand that they were waiting for a tour.  Cicero didn't need to know more as he pushed his way through the small crowd of humans and vampires alike at the bar, in order to obtain a seat for Ami.  Tours meant they were likely trying to show the VIP section off, which they would want money for in order to join, and unlike many older vampires but exactly like his sire, Cicero had not a cent to his name.  They wouldn't be interested in his joining their private club.