The overcoat of the traveler rustled in the cold spring night. It was that time of year where during the days one could feel the sun on their skin, but at night they needed a jumper or coat. Yes, most ordinary people felt the soft sun of spring, but not the owner of the overcoat who moved like a shadow in the early night. The traveler was a vampire, and was therefore denied the joys of the sun. He wasn't bothered by the fact. He didn't really feel the cold either, not like mortals. In fact, he'd walked through clear nights, violent storms, wicked winds and heavy snow. Tonight was damn near pleasant to the traveler, and his expressionless face showed his satisfaction, however small.
He'd gotten in just an hour before, and he'd proceeded directly from the bus stop he'd been dropped off at to the headquarters of the Oligarchy. It didn't take long to find the building, and the traveler stood just outside it's grounds. He wasn't ready to go in yet. Tattooed fingers dexterously fetched a crumpled pack of cloves; black cigarettes, sweet as their namesake. A flame erupted into view, igniting the stick, and stinking up the surrounding area with rancid black smoke. The traveler took a deep inhale and closed his eyes, content for the moment. As he opened those oversized green marbles, the traveler blew a beautiful smoke ring, a halo to grace the visible moon. He smiled at his creation and blew out the rest of the smoke through his nostrils. Now calmed, he turned to take an appraisal of this palace.
Place looks expensive, he thought, condemnation in the psychic buzz.
Well, what had he expected from a group of assholes who call themselves the Oligarchy? I mean, they were kind of advertising a tight leash and inequality, the ivory tower feeling just a stone's throw from these "hallowed" chambers. Still, he'd heard the current ruler was a wise man, and the traveler had to admit the idea of all the supernatural species congregating exciting and progressive. Perhaps there was knowledge here. He figured he'd find out in time.
In one hand was a weathered suitcase. It had seen many cities, subways, cars, planes and roads a plenty. It's handle squeaked with rust and it's leather was worn. It was a solid piece though, something like the old traveling salesmen of the 1930's used to carry. It was sturdy, and looked like it had some places still to see. In the other hand was a guitar case, equally battered and well traveled. Inside was a prized possession. The traveler had so few. The overcoat was beige and hid the other clothes of the man in question. On his head was a Fedora that matched the coat. It was a look for a time long gone, and yet it looked somehow contemporary when compared with the man's pretty face. His jawline told one story, while his big eyes told another. From his fat bottom lip dangled the clove.
He entered the foyer and saw a reception desk, kind of like a hotel. It was less crowded than the traveler had been expecting and he looked around the ostentatious lobby with a mixed expression of amazement and contempt. He approached the desk and took of his hat, revealing short sides, and black hair, slicked back and slightly to the left. Hat in hands, the tattoo on his knuckles read, just love. He was regarded by the desk clerk on duty.
"I'm here to see Luminary Kerr Galvin or Vampire Oligarch Jacob McCloud," he stated. His voice sounded husky, thick and low. It was a practiced low, like a contralto training to be a bass. A softer higher voice existed. It was purposefully not used. His expression read as commanding but patient. His face was naturally severe when not smiling and so he often appeared tougher than he intended. That seemed to happen here, as the clerk gave the traveler a funny look, before stating that he needed to make a call upstairs about this. The traveler saw nothing odd in this and placed his suitcase and guitar case down while he waited.
"Sir," the clerk called out. "Please put that out."
The traveler had forgotten all about the clove, and with a decent degree of embarrassment, put it out against the guitar case. His expression melted into a frown.
Great first impression. Ugh...