Dire Consequences of Subjectivism

[Ionaya]

The vampire sat at a small rounded table of unsure color, the neon lights flashing wildly and making the entire room a kaleidoscope of emotions and flavors. Translucent eyes ignored the crowds though- jumping, dancing to hypnotic and angry beats adjacent to guitar strums while in tight, revealing clothes –and only regarded the strip of torn paper opposite him on the table. It was crumpled, about an inch in length, but enough room and smoothness to write a barely seeable eight digits of someone’s home phone number. It bothered him, as many things did, but this perplexed him and caused his somewhat long nailed fingers to tap chronologically from right to left; smallest to index. In a second’s worth of taps he revised himself and the earlier events of only minutes before, wondering if it had any relevance or if he was only tired…

Or losing it. Losing what? His mind… it wasn’t much to have, and he thought now simply that if he did ‘lose it’, it wouldn’t be horrible if it would stop the constant motion of thought.

Though he was so sure it had been Gabriel he was taking… When he’d first heard of this place, he was relieved; a place meant for his kind where he could scope out who he needed while achieving nourishment, but now he just wanted to return to his Puppy and call it a night. The churning in his stomach did not agree however, and he knew that he needed to feed again or else risk his mortal’s safety. He wouldn’t search for some young thing though, more expecting of someone to approach and ask of his appetite. It’s what happened earlier, after all.

He had sat down in the same seat and was soon accosted by a beautiful teen, his girly facial features of an oval face and big blue eyes exaggerated by black eyeliner playing off the lithe body encased in nicely fitting flared jeans. The chest was there- a modest pack of four etched into it –and unsheathed to show the tattoo people here called ‘the mark’ on his left peck. This gorgeous boy had spoken to him, over the roar of music in the background, of a place in the back if the vampire was hungry, but the monster himself was far from realizing any conversation was happening at that point. Incoherent was he, rapt in the boy and quickly breaking upon bloodlust as the little angel took hold of his hand and tugged him from the safety behind his table and through crowds and down a hall. Where they went after that was a blur, but he remembered very distinctly laying the treasure upon downy feathered pillows and running his fingers through rich honey colored hair as he soaked in the heat echoing from that hollow just before the neck.

Yes… Do it.

That voice, the same voice as before with Gabriel presented itself and urged him, persuaded him to do things he was already in the process of doing. A sordid feeling was crawling inside him, picking from the inside at his skin and pushing his heart into his head so he had to hear its repulsive beat gain in speed. Pounding as his lips pressed hard at the throat of his meal, excelling even more when he took the first drop into his parched mouth and aching throat after shredding the thin flesh. The body beneath him convulsed and was rigid, arms constricting around the vampire’s waist as those little hands strained to grip the black cloat to help with the sudden streak of pain. That same body was soon relaxed, and was turned into a helpless doll in the being’s arms.

Feed me.

Or, the body should have been comatose, should have been helpless, but it was still moving and moaning. The vampire opened his eyes, having closed them during the act, and drew away from the boy to see the problem. What he saw shocked him, so much so that he scrambled away and stood with his back to the wall. Gabriel was there; those were his eyes staring up at the ceiling and his wild red hair resting on the pillows and his chest rapidly rising and falling and his scars on his hand and his face and his voice mutating into that same needy and persuasive tone the other voice had saying, “That was amazing, let’s do

It again…

The vampire, horrified, stared at the face and expected it to change back, but it was only after he covered his eyes and checked again when finally it returned from its illusion. The room was quiet, dark save for the candles flickering in old holders against the walls, and it was that same silence pressing at him from all sides. A groan broke it, thankfully, but raised the new prospect of him being banned from Risk already. What if he’d hurt him, or possibly killed him? No, dead people don’t make noise… Kill him, take him. Inhaling deeply, the vampire ventured towards the boy and crouched near him to check his vitals. He was alive- he had a pulse -but those eyes, they were slack as though he were drunk and the pupils and irises took up more space than he imagined they were supposed to. “Speak to me.” Said his untraceable accent to the boy, but instead the other answered.

I am.

The vampire looked up and around, searching for some reasoning behind this. “What are you?” He had picked up the boy who answered in the most earnest way, “I’m tired…”

I am a vampire.

“What’s your name?”

“Clyde,” Said the boy as he was carried from the darkness of the room, going on to talk of other things but the vampire wasn’t listening.

I am… Aryodne. Yes, I believe that’s what you named me.

That was enough, he’d had enough. Placing the care of the boy on another’s shoulders he left him, finding his way skillfully through crowds and back to his table. Anything anyone said to him wasn’t heard, and the voice of… Aryodne, had washed away with the silence. So, there he was, brooding over this event he couldn’t figure out when another boy around the same age and manner as the other came to his table. The vampire was sure he was also a very beautiful boy, but he didn’t look up from the grains of the table, even when that slip of paper distracted his vision from the important task of counting molecules. He stood there, the boy, and said something else before wandering off to somewhere and leaving the older with too many thoughts. It was clear that the paper was a number, but he didn’t know why Clyde would want him to call. Didn’t he just almost… kill him? Fingers began to drum, the eyes were transfixed, and he was miles, and millions, and eons away from the commotion.

[Existentially Odd]

Kerr squared his shoulders as he approached the club, walking cane clicking mutely on the cement as he went. A bitter tang rested at the back of his throat, though whether it was thirst or merely the after-effects of provoking a demon the night before, he didn\'t know. He didn\'t much care, either; all he was interested in was finding relief somewhere. It may have been here. Risk... in both name and bounty. He’d certainly taken his fair share. Though he walked calmly enough, his shoulders were rigid with tension as he passed by the bouncers that spared him a cursory toe-to-head glance, down the entrance hall with its dark atmosphere and muted sounds and came to the point where he was presented with two choices; enter the cavernous main space ahead of him, or slide down to the rooms kept somehow private to his left.

Ben. Yes, you met him here, you first drank from him here... you ruined him here. Congratufuckinglations. Now get your damn drink and be gone.

His tongue rolled restlessly within his mouth, the stud embedded within it gliding obsessively against his upper palate as he stepped beyond the entryway and stalked towards the bar. His calf-length coat flapped once due to his unrestrained speed, the jewels in his cane glinting secretively beneath the hyperactive lights flaring overhead. He spared a glance for the room as he went, noting the throng of nubile bodies pressing their flesh in the pursuit of dark and lascivious satiation. Their ignorant minds and wanton thirsts were on display as they ground themselves up and down to the alluring pounding of the industrial rock music, coy eyes and sultry tongues sending messages hard to miss. They were unaware of just how thin the veil of of protection over them was, how swiftly justice could be dealt by those they had no understanding of, if that council deemed them accountable.

Maybe they deserve what they get, after all. Maybe enough of them invite it... flaunt themselves for a taste of death and eternity in one heady bite... that there is a balance held still somewhere, for it. For him and her. For me. A balance everyone tips once in a while. That just bounces right the fuck back.

Still, he couldn\'t stomach his part; the role he\'d been forced to play through ignorance. Or had he chosen? It didn\'t really matter; he glared sullenly at the whirl of youth and mortality on display - freely, without condemnation - as he reached a barstool. This final look showed him that there were numerous immortals here tonight also - drawn like moths humping a flame, to the scent of sweat, blood and lust drenching the air within this place, as only they could detect it. It almost sickened him, it was so overpowering. He saw another kindred looking equally as disenchanted in the centre of it all, before he swung a leg clad in an expensive navy suit over the stool and turned his back on the lot of them. It seemed far too active and loud for so early in the evening; he ordered a glass of warm B positive and set his walking stick carefully against the underside of the bar once the \'tender had moved away to fill his order. He didn\'t unbutton his coat just yet; though the heat around him made him quite uncomfortable in the three piece suit and overcoat, he wasn\'t committed to staying long.

He inspected his nails and gnawed on his tongue stud, for want of anything better to do. It felt like a mistake, now that he was here. A terrible misunderstanding that he\'d thought would be put right by returning to this, the scene of his second crime. But being here didn\'t change anything important, it would fufill a need without offering relief to his troubled mind. Or redemption for his damned soul. He\'d been a naïve fool for believing anything useful would come of it. If he was here in tribute to anything, it wasn\'t Ben. It was to the Oligarchy\'s far-reaching power and his own stupidity. He gave a sour smile as his order was placed on the bar in front of him and he tilted it to no particular member of their ranks, before taking a generous swig.

To the Oligarchy.  May you fuck yourselves so soundly you reach the light of understanding at the other end.

[Trillian]

He\'d gone for too long a run, had been distracted by the pretty lights on the Boardwalk for far too long a time, shouldn\'t\'ve gone for a closer look, shouldn\'t\'ve hung around to try and capture some of the pink stuff that people had twirled onto a stick for them. It had taken him a good part of an hour to find a good candidate to snatch his prize - a little girl whose parents had been looking the other way. He\'d walked up to her and wrenched the fairy floss out of her tiny hands, sprinting away when she started bawling, finding a small space between two buildings to enjoy the sickly sweet airy candy.
 
When he\'d returned, the vampire who\'d been looking after him since he\'d left the forest to come look at the city, had gone. It was close to daytime. Scared of being alone in a place he didn\'t really understand, he\'d raided a few garbage bins for scraps before curling up to sleep beneath a tree in a nearby park.
 
It was dark again, and the city was filled with the smell of strange creatures. Risk smelt the most of vampires, so Tag had followed his nose here, looking for the one that he\'d left behind by mistake. Upon entering the nightclub he\'d found himself drawn to the undulating bodies on the dancefloor and the primal beat that played. After watching them for a while he took in the sights of what was going on at the booths, the bar, the tables and was shocked by what he saw in the former, so went to one of the latter, for it was quieter and less intimidating.
 
He moved in beside Aryodne\'s chair because that was the woven route he was taking, and smelt the air next to the other\'s ear - that smell, the one all vampires had - was combined with the lingering scent of young blood and any other smell that was Aryodne himself, which was different to the vampire he knew, but was still something he felt comfortable and familiar with. The blonde ponytail held his attention next, and he reached out a hand to stroke and pet it, liking the feel, not really understanding the social concept of looking and not touching without permission. He\'d not had the chance to be taught etiquette.

[Ionaya]

The vampire was stationary, tranquil without the peace in his seat which vibrated with the base of the no doubt expensive stereo system, and stared at the paper across from him- it moving with every beat and sliding when a few passed. Was he insane? It would explain so many things, like the voice in his head for one. What if he already lost his mind though? What if this place, those lights, these people, and that boy, were figments of his shattered mind’s imagination? What if there were no such things as vampires, or werewolves… or even humans? He needed to know more about vampires, and if this little thing- glitch –was normal. A decorous smile perked up his lips and slowly wrinkled the stone skin slightly reddened from his previous meal- he’d stolen the healthy blush of ‘Clyde’.

Ah, was he a hundred year old vampire who needed guidance from another? Was he so young, naïve? Perhaps he should have learned this from his previous teachers, but he never really gave them time after they took him. It was his fault that he was suffering now, that he had these thoughts at all. If he had stayed with them, all this could have been prevented. ‘What is there to know?’ He figured, eager to embark on this brand new world and take what it wouldn’t give before. Quite the fledgling was he, adding up his years in decades and his experience in hours. Well, it was only himself who said he was fully grown and new all things worth knowing, and it were these events with Gabriel that brought him down several notches.

The paper slid from the table to the linoleum floor as someone passed, but the vampire wasn’t about to reach to retrieve it. What was the point? He didn’t intend to call him, and it would be better off for him in the long run if he didn’t. The eyes though reached up to catch what had passed so quickly and went with the body as it made its path to the bar. A male, strikingly overdressed compared to most around… and a vampire from the aura he gave off. It was stronger than his own, and put him in the mindset of defense. What was the point, though? Nothing, none, no one.

Gabriel?

Wasn’t that a point enough? The boy needed him, might be waiting for him, might- what was that? Slowly the vampire turned to face another boy taking enjoyment in his hair. It was just an odd scene, and the vampire had to wait for his mind to catch up on it and put together what exactly had happened. Obviously, he had been too deep in thought to sense the other was so close and thus couldn’t have moved away, but it displeased him that this could occur. He shouldn’t be so wrapped up that someone could come along and hold a knife to his throat, and this one could have done just that. His thoughts weren’t only bothersome now, but dangerous.

The smile broadened despite all this, because out of all the things this boy could have done, he chose to play with his hair. That was sweet, but it wasn’t something he would tolerate regularly. He took the hand of the boy from his hair and placed a twenty dollar bill in it after digging in his coat pocket. He then rose and pushed in his chair, aiming to leave the other to whatever he wanted with his new ‘wealth’ and just find more blood to empty his cravings. Seating himself a ways away from the vampire who entered beforehand, he faced away from the throngs of enigmatic dancers and back to himself.

[Trillian]

[ooc] discussion with Ex-Odd has me posting next [/ooc]

Tag looked at the twenty dollar bill in his hand.  He knew that this was money by observation.  He hadn\'t had it explained to him, but for all his lack of social teachings, he was wily enough to figure things out on his own.  There was nothing wrong with his perception or intelligence.  What he had in his hand could be bartered for something, but he didn\'t really know about numbers, so didn\'t really know what he could barter for in exchange.  He\'d seen arguments over this paper, and he didn\'t want to get into a confrontation.

Following the vampire who\'d given him the money after the blonde had seated, he moved in between him and the dark haired one already there.  The body language of the blonde told him that he didn\'t want to be bothered again (though Tag\'s hand itched to touch that silken tail once more).  He turned instead to the other vampire, and showed him the bill in his hand.
 
"What I get?" he asked, wanting to know how much he had.

[Existentially Odd]

Kerr swallowed the mouthful of blood he\'d just taken, licking his upper lip to ensure there was no residue - he could see none in the mirror across from him - before he turned to the stranger with a frown. He had been aware of the other immortal\'s presence but hadn\'t looked at him; now his gaze slid beyond the wild-looking boy standing between them, in the manner of one questioning ownership. His mind, still so heavily engrossed with contemplating all that was the Oligarchy, immediately leapt to a conclusion they\'d instilled in him.

Is this your pet?

He pressed the thought at the vampire\'s mind, grateful that he\'d had the chance to smell the other man and identify his nature before this new... person had come along. It was difficult to decipher the boy\'s wording and structure a response, with the cocktail of smells he wore assaulting his elite vampiric senses. Different scents rolled off the creature every time he moved; dirt and funky body smells, some sort of canine odour... garbage in all its glorious variances and, once, an almost sweet smell, like sugar. Underlying it all, was the greatest pungence identifying the boy as non-human. Kerr had no idea what he was, but he had a fair impression of where he\'d been - not just because the filthy shirt and shorts sported delightful anecdotes of mud, sand and filth - and he suddenly regretted pestering the other vampire unnecessarily with the question.

This creature was very obviously not owned or supported by anyone with a sense of decency or smell. Against his better judgment, his expression softened into one of confusion. He glanced over the wild thing\'s shoulder at the other vampire again - the gesture quite obviously a request for help on the matter of being spoken to so curiously - and then back at the boy.

"I\'m... sorry?" he murmured apologetically, hoping one of them might better explain what he\'d inadvertently been dragged into.

[Ionaya]

Running his fingers through his bangs, the vampire mused as he leaned on the bar. The tender came forward and asked him what he wanted, and unknowing of what the place had to offer asked a recommendation. He then sat brooding with his paid drink, swirling a pallid long nailed finger on the rim and staring into the half empty glass filled with a radiantly red liquid. It couldn’t have been all blood, it was too light and smelled too sugary, but some part was and he hoped for the money he paid for it, it would stifle his yearning and he could return to Gabriel. His thoughts shifted to him, about what he was doing and whether he was alright. It had only been a few hours, but in that time a number of things can happen.

About the boy he’d taken who turned into Gabriel- did that happen just because he wanted the boy? Because this… creature called Aryodne willed it? Because he was insane and had made up the voice and the doll like child altogether? He met him in a alley, what if he hadn’t met him at all? What if… What if… It’s all he could ask, because there were such philosophies which prevented a solid answer. What if it really was his brother, Aryodne, somehow?

No, that was insane. He was dead.

‘Is this your pet?’ Came the voice, the thought, the question that made him wince as he brought the glass to his lips. It made a delightfully loud sound above the music as it was half way slammed on the counter by the monster who looked to his left, just noticing his earlier admirer had followed him somewhat. It took a moment for him to realize someone had actually asked him a question, and it wasn’t some random remark from himself. Translucent eyes shifted to the one past the first, acknowledging his presence but not answering because he did not have the ability. Instead he narrowed his eyes and looked at the first, the money he’d given wrinkled in his hands.

“I gave you a twenty dollar bill,” said he, relaxing more on the stool and observing now.

[Trillian]

Tag snorted a soft breath of frustration through his nose at not being able to communicate properly before turning his head at the answer which came suddenly.
 
Twenty dollar bill.  He looked at the crumpled note in his hands and then back at the blonde vampire who\'d given it to him.  He seemed to struggle with his thoughts before a sentence was blurted out:  "Can get plenty food?"
 
The wild child was starving.  His foraging in garbage cans earlier that day had only rewarded him with nibbles, and the fairy floss hadn\'t exactly been a stomach filler.
 
He was relying on the kindness of these two vampires to do something for him, as one vampire already had.  The smell of them made Tag feel comfortable, and the ponytail was enchanting enough for one grimy hand to reach over towards it.

[Existentially Odd]

Kerr found himself awaiting an answer from the fair vampire, for he was only recently becoming aware of how much mortal food money would buy (having arranged payment for Mandy\'s meal deliveries) and was interested in the other immortal\'s evaluation of the system. He couldn\'t help but cringe as that grubby hand reached for the innocent length of hair the vampire sported, though he was fairly certain his expression remained neutral to those not privy to his thoughts.

"You can\'t buy food here," he interrupted regardless, hoping to waylay that grasping limb and save the vampire an awkward groping. His gaze slid off the wild being and into the unusually-coloured eyes of his fellow immortal. "Though there is the recovery room downstairs, if... he\'s been fed from," the native Irishman\'s voice trailed off as he looked back at the youth. He doubted any self-respecting supernatural would have fed from the filthy creature; unless they were out of their mind, of course. The vampire currently sitting at the bar with him looked far from it, however.

Kerr wasn\'t exactly sure what made him wish to dump the responsibility of the needy mortal upon a complete stranger; especially when he had the urge to take the lad home and stand him in a hot shower until he\'d used an entire cake of soap and the hot water system\'s fill, before feeding him anything he wanted. It made incomplete sense and caused a swelling of guilt to boot. He supposed it had something to do with his recent punishment; he wanted to divest himself of all incriminating ties, while fending off all potential new ones. The problem was that the sincere desperation in the mortal was extremely hard to resist.

Though his words had been for the vampire, his gaze had settled on the hazel orbs of the feral being between them. Relenting, Kerr mentally examined his thoughts, hoping to find some clue about why he spoke in so clipped a manner and presented as a stray animal not fit for city - or civilised - living. Even a name would do him; something to be able to label the young man besides \'wild\' or \'feral\' would be good. He couldn\'t exactly use such terms to his face, though... the prospect of the boy having any sort of name seemed as slim as him having bathed correctly in the last year.

[Ionaya]

Grimacing at the hand reaching for him, the vampire caught it before it had a chance to touch him, and place it palm down on the bar’s counter. He wanted to say, ‘Don’t do that’ but thought that would be rude, so instead remained silent. Turning to face the younger he maneuvered himself so that his pony tail was out of his eye sight, and his arm resting on the counter as he felt the cold glass of something with those slender fingers. The nails tapped at it as he stared at the seemingly homeless, his illiteracy astounding and making him wonder if he was raised in some wild place. ‘Poor thing…’ He reflected, eyes glazing over again in thought. The dirt and muck coating his skin no doubt made him look older, but he had to be younger than 21 and not allowed in this place. Or maybe the rules were different. The boy he’d taken looked around sixteen or seventeen, and he wasn’t as built as this one.

In his peripheral he saw the tender eyeing them with disgust, particularly the one between them. No, this wasn’t the place for him, and he was tempted to take him away to where Gabriel resided and have him help scrub the grubby little rogue. Oh yes, Gabriel, he’d almost forgotten about him. He couldn’t take on another when he hadn’t even gotten the first out, he couldn’t. ‘I can’t…’ The vampire told himself this over and over again while still staring, giving himself a worthy excuse that he was insane and should let his puppy go as well as this one, that they would be better off roaming the streets. It was guilt that trapped his eyes, this boy dressed in dirt and even unaware of how those around perceived him.

“It would buy, some. Maybe a day or two’s worth…” It really depended on how much he wanted to eat, and whether he would spend it all in a binge. “And he’s right, you can’t buy food here. The food they do have I doubt would nourish you enough, anyway…” The tapping from his finger nails continued; it helped him ‘stay awake’ so to speak, and not wander too directionless into his mind. He brought the glass again to his lips- unknowingly teasing –and let the rest of its contents slip down his throat. Hunger still rose from the pit of him, but at the rate this was going, he’d never quench his desire. What had made this one, and why would they leave him so oddly disjointed from the world? And if he came from some place of wastelands, why had he come here? He would starve here, or be killed- in his opinion –because of his quick to touch attitude. “Where are you from? Where is your guardian?”

[Trillian]

Looking from one to the other, Tag found himself with many questions to answer and not enough language with which to answer them.  He was fluent in English, he\'d merely forgotten how.  Understanding what they were saying wasn\'t a problem (much), though piecing together the sentences with which to communicate was slow and frustrating him.
 
They\'d both told him that there was no food here.  His nostrils flared as he attempted to take in the smells.  Nothing meaty could be smelled here, but the stuff that had been in the fairy floss was aplenty - the sweet sugary smell of alcohol left a sharp tang in the air which Tag had no trouble identifying (though the alcohol itself burned his senses a little, reminding him of over-ripe fruit).
 
Kerr would manage to glean his name, Tag, as the youth did think of himself as such.  Without too much investigating, Kerr might also see an image of Rancid, the vampire who\'d cooed at Tag near the edge of Meadowbrook Forest and had lured him out with food.
 
His hand was captured and set down on the bar and he understood that he wasn\'t to touch the pretty tail.  Huffy, he lifted a dirty, ragged nail to his lips and began to gnaw at it with his teeth, biting the length of it down until it was difficult to chew, before exchanging fingers and chewing on the next as he stared at the blonde.
 
"Not..." he sighed and frowned before trying again.  "I was too long," he explained.  "He left.  Smells like you."  He smiled at Aryodne, showing him the twenty dollar bill that he still clutched in his hand - to let him know he hadn\'t lost it yet - and shuffled closer to him before peering to his left at Kerr shyly.

[Existentially Odd]

Kerr caught himself making a repulsed face at the gnawing down of grotty, bacteria-ridden fingernails, but eased it off his features just as the boy looked at him. He sensed the frustration in the other\'s flying thoughts and didn\'t wish to aggravate that.

"Tag," he stated, glancing from him to the other vampire. "His name is Tag and he had a kindred guardian, I think... " The Irishman frowned, trying to interpret the image of the vampire who\'d drawn Tag out of the forest with food. He thought he was reading the images clearly but they were not as linear as he was used to, for Tag himself wasn\'t used to thinking in normal patterns; there was some affection with which the boy regarded the harsh-looking creature, that much was clear to Kerr. Mainly, the youthful thoughts reinforced the notion that he was hungry... and that he hadn\'t been with the vampire long enough to grow attached... no. That didn\'t seem right. He was attached to the harsh-looking vampire; his words cleared the misconception up, supplying the final piece of the thought-and-conversation puzzle Kerr was observing. Whether he hadn\'t been with the vampire long or not was irrelevant; he\'d been away from him too long and when he\'d come back, Tag found himself alone.

He explained as much to the blonde man that the youth appeared to be favouring, finishing by adding slyly: "I believe he wants you to help him find food. And look after him."

[Trillian]

[ooc] For the Readers: Due to Ionaya\'s retraction out of this roleplay, I am godmoding their character out as well [/ooc]
 
When Tag shuffled closer, he found himself pushed away and then a hand wiped on clothing before the blonde vampire extracted himself away from them with a comment that sounded gruff and dismissive to Tag\'s ears. He hadn\'t caught what was said because it was hissed under his breath, but the other vampire had surely caught it. Still, Tag was not oblivious to body language, and he\'d read the rather sudden hostility correctly. Flinching away, expecting to be struck (as Rancid sometimes hit him when he failed to make a connection), Tag watched with open disappointment as the blonde disappeared into the crowds before looking back at Kerr, the crumpled bill still in his hand.
 
Looking down at it, then back at the vampire, he thrust it out towards him and grunted, once, softly.

[Existentially Odd]

Watching the other vampire pull away, mumbling about a puppy that needed checking, filled Kerr with consternation. He didn\'t wish to be left alone with Tag! He resisted the urge to shout out to the blone - to plead with him to stay - knowing it wouldn\'t be the mature way to deal with things at all. He doubted it would have done any good, anyway. Once the other vampire was gone and the wild boy was grunting at him, waving money in his direction, he understood that it would be up to him to help, alone. Mouth setting into a reluctant line, he took a moment to process this realisation, before continuing the conversation.

"Yes, you want food for your money; why don\'t we leave here and find you somewhere that will meet those requirements, hrm?" he asked grimly, downing what was left of his own nourishment in one swift swallow before retrieving his walking stick and heading for the exit. He knew of a late-night supermarket in the area and there were eateries also... but he was reluctant to subject innocent diners to the stench that surrounded Tag. It would undoubtedly put them off their food. He would head for the supermarket and give instructions (based on his limited experience) about buying the maximum amount of food for the most limited of budgets, once theya rrived. He would add to Tag\'s monetary resources if need be; he couldn\'t conscionably leave the child to starve.  He watched over his shoulder as he walked, to be sure that he was being followed... and also because he was secretly curious as to whether the boy would travel on two legs... or four.

[Trillian]

When Kerr moved away, Tag got the wrong impression.  He\'d been expecting to be left behind since one of the vampires had left so abruptly, so when the other one made an encouraging comment, he heard what he\'d been expecting to here and got the sentence muddled completely, thinking that Kerr had been telling him that he was to go find his requirements somewhere else.  He bypassed the \'we\' in that invitation and substituted yet another rejection for himself.
 
Slumping forward over the bar\'s counter, he missed Kerr\'s enquiring look and was distracted by the tender that had served Kerr\'s drink.  His nostrils flared when he picked up the scent, and made a big gesture at one of Torin\'s bouncers lining the far wall, pointing at the top of Tag\'s head.
 
It was obvious the youth was about to be extracted from the club, money or no money.