The dark haired young man paused for a moment when he finally reached the front of the queue, debating whether or not he should really go instead, but as the bouncer waved him through again, looking a little impatient, he stepped forwards, through the doors of the club. The heat of the place hit him instantly and his dark eyes widened a little as he entered the main room, but that was the only hint of surprise that showed on his face.
Mackenzie had never been in a nightclub before, and the sight was a strange one, so many people crammed together, grinding up against each other, moving in time to the pounding music. He’d seen people going in and leaving, so he’d had an idea of how many people could be fitted into a place like this, but to actually see it was something else. Everyone looked like they had put so much effort into their appearance, even the ones who looked dishevelled, by the expression on their faces it was a look that much care had been taken over. So many people were here to impress, to find a mate for the night.
The busker had taken no such care, but he was wearing new clothes at least - the ones the angel had given him that morning before sending him on his way. She’d given him some money too, but Mac had no intention of spending that on alcohol. The jeans she’d dressed him in fitted well, more snugly than most of Mac’s clothes but she had insisted they looked good. Mac didn’t care much about that, but he wasn’t about to turn down the offer of free clothes. His t-shirt was new too, plain black and didn’t look too expensive, although Zoheret had simply chuckled quietly and told him not to think about it when he had asked the price before moving on to telling him how well it showed off the tattoo around his bicep. At least something of good quality should last a while - or so Mac was hoping.
The few dollars she’d slipped into his pocket were still there, but everything else Mac owned, including his beloved violin, were secure in the check in at the museum since he had no where else for them. His hair hadn\'t been brushed since Zoheret had run her hands through it that morning, but at least it was clean tonight, and he\'d managed to stop her from putting any product in it.
After last night, Mac’s curiosity had been sparked - he had no idea that the woman who had clothed him was an angel, but he’d known she wasn’t human. She surely hadn’t been a vampire either, because she hadn’t tried to drink from him and hadn’t been as cold as he remembered the vampire who had drunk from him had been. But Mac knew vampires came here, and so maybe one of them might have a clue as to what she had been. She’d been so rich, maybe someone would recognise her name.
But now he was here he had no idea how to go about finding out anything. Everyone looked so focused, they wouldn’t want someone bothering them asking them if they knew a name. Mac wouldn’t normally have cared what people thought, but vampires could be dangerous, he knew that much. He didn’t want to piss off a vampire by asking, but he doubted humans would have as much knowledge. But the young man had no idea how to tell if someone was a vampire or human, so it would just be pot luck either way. Mac slipped his thumbs into his jeans pockets as he scanned the room, trying to decide what to do, trying to find someone who looked like they migth know a thing or two.