James didn’t have a lot of connections in the city, which so far, had been hindering him more than he liked. The area he’d been in the past four years was familiar; he knew the important people, and as such, he’d learned that what he was looking for was void in that area.
Recently the thin-blood had become intensely interested in dream manipulation. He could do it to others and that was satisfying, but he was moreso interested in those who could do it to him. The two species he had heard that possessed such powers were incubus/succubus and Nightmares. Knowing what species could perform such tasks was helpful, but it didn’t help him much if he couldn’t locate any of them. Thus, he’d had to enlist some outside help.
Haneen Ali was a good friend of his foster sire and had agreed to meet with him here tonight. He didn’t know much about her, besides the fact that she was an older vampire and came from middle eastern roots. What he was also learning, as he sat at the bar alone, was that Haneen Ali was a person prone to being late. In this instance she was fifteen minutes late and he’d received no word that the vampire was not coming, but he was beginning to doubt that she would show. Things had changed since the day they had arranged the meeting (which had to be planned in advanced due to the female vampire’s apparent busy schedule), predominantly to do with the power structure of the city. James was well aware that this sleazy establishment didn’t fall under ‘vampire territories’, but he hadn’t been worried about it since he expected an older vampire to show up.
The longer he waited the more nervous he felt about the whole thing. For one, he didn’t blend in with the bikers and punks around these parts. He hadn’t bothered to alter his typical ‘preppy’ style; James was wearing a white and blue plaid button up shirt and blue jeans that were of no particular designer brand. Now he was regretting that choice, as well as regretting the fact he’d shown up altogether. He could have been spending his time doing something constructive instead of waiting around, such as locating that human from nights ago. Instead, he was here, inhaling the strong scent of foul cigarette smoke that seemed to cling to everything in the room.
James turned his stool towards the bar and away from the pool tables, debating on whether he should order a drink. Liquids went down at a 50/50 rate for him; either he took to it and digested it or he threw it up right away. It might be worth ordering something, if only to give him an activity while he waited, but he decided that as recent events would indicate he didn’t function particularly well if he was even slightly under the influence of something. Thus, he refrained, turning his stool back towards the pool tables and watching the crowd, using his powers to search for a supernatural presence and visually looking for a female woman that looked like an Arab.
