For a few moments, Tom\'s face and voice filled up Morgaine\'s whole world. She did as she was told, sure enough, wide eyes, teeth bared in a primitive grimace – until she was released, and the force of his throw forced her to stumbled backward a step. Feeling returned to her crushed fingers, and with the pain came her ire, redoubled now that – once again – he\'d succeeded in frightening her. This time he seemed to be trying, however, which was a small comfort – only just large enough to stop her from laying into him without giving him a chance to speak.
Which would have been a shame, because then she might have missed him batting his eyelashes like an infatuated schoolgirl.
Lovely?!Slowly, her expression of rage transformed into one of utter incredulity. This wasn\'t the guy she\'d met in the alley that night. The word
lovely was not part of that guy\'s vocabulary.
And what did he mean, she
thought they were her people?
"Yeah?" she shot back, reclaiming her place right up in his grille, "You wanna talk about crime? Lets talk about
mur–" Before she could finish the thought, however, there was a large black man pulling her a few feet away, whom she then rounded on.
Before she could unleash her wrath on her bandmate, however, his rumbling bass dominated the space between them, as well as hte thmping beat of the club music, "She\'s gone," he said, looking troubled.
"Who?"
"Vee."
"What, where the hell\'d she go?"
"Dunno, Flo. She just texted me, said she\'s going out, might not be back \'til mornin\'. Her bike\'s not in the lot, and she ain\'t pickin\' up her phone, Joan." His frown deepened, and he shrugged helplessly.
Chance had been lurking much closer by, creeping ever closer and looking around frantically for a security guard from the time Tom grabbed the singer, absolutely certain that Morgaine would die if somebody didn\'t get out of there fast. Ami followed suit, though at a slightly more erratic, weaving pace – she wasn\'t about to let a little bit of Band Drama get in the way of her drinking, no sir.
Tom could probably hear their little powow – Chance certainly could, and he didn\'t hesitate to have his input, "So, okay, let me get this straight. This motherfucker\'s –" He jerked a thumb over his shoulder to indicate the vampire, "been here this whole time puttin\' up with you. And
that means that whatever\'s got Viv all moony has nothin\' to do with him, and this whole scene\'s about you and your motherfuckin\'
vendetta? Over somethin\' that happened months ago, which you fuckin\' deserved anyway, \'cause you let your dumb ass get
caught?" Now, it was his turn to get mad. Morgaine had no reply for that. His words were – more or less – true. Had it been any other creepy individual, she\'d have been happy just to keep an eye on him until he made a move, but since it was Tom, she\'d instantly gone for the jugular (as it were), without any real cause.
"Makes it technically your fault, Em, her leavin\'," Ami put in, having apparent difficulty putting her mouth around the words, "For startin\' shit." Morgaine looked at the ground and grimaced, clearly ashamed.
"So are we gonna go find \'er?" asked Joe, seeing nothing constructive in their bickering, and impatient to get this show on the road.
There was nothing more, really, to say, and they filed off, through the dance floor Moraine lead of course, stalking off without another word aimed toward the vampire. Chance lurked behind for a moment, and addressed the redhead, "Uh, look, dude, it wasn\'t meant to go down like that. Shit got WAY outta hand. Thanks for not, uh, killin\' \'er or anything. She\'s a horrible, rancid bitch, but she plays a wicked guitar." And with that awkward approximation of an apology, Chance was gone, too, at the tail end of the group.
While all of this had been going on, Vivianne herself was actually in an alley a few blocks from the club, lurking in the darkness on her bike. In the midst of the band\'s larger converstaion, she texted Tom a completely different message from the one she\'d sent Joe:
Meet me at the loading dock around the back of the club. Wait until they leave. Make sure they\'re gone. –V