The tent with the vampires, of course! He should have placed her immediately, especially after the uproar her recent article had caused here in the club. She had some serious spunk to walk into a known northern pack hangout after accusing them all of being a bunch of housebroken, boot licking, lapdogs to a dark angel.
He clasped her offered hand within his own and shook it, glad to discover that although she appeared to be rather drunk, her grip remained firm and sure. There was nothing worse than shaking hands with a limp fish. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m Phoenix and the winged ones name is Saraekiel.” He said with genuine warmth and welcome as he relinquished her hand, his eyes glimmered with amusement as he lifted his glass and saluted her. ”I remember you now, from the tent I mean. You wrote that recent article about the Northern wares and their relationship with said dark angel yeah? I found it very interesting and amusing, if a little miss informed.” He gave a little shrug of his shoulders and smiled teasingly. "Not that my opinion matters to you, I'm sure." The uproar her articale had caused here had also been amusing in the extreme. He was surprised Val or Saraekiel hadn’t hunted her down in the interim and dragged her out of her bed, where ever it may be; demanding answers and an explanation.
He took a sip of his drink, enjoying the unique aniseed flavor and alcohol burn as it swirled over his tongue and slid down his throat as he swallowed and wondered why he had suddenly thought about the whereabouts of her bed. “Still, if that is what you truly believe about the situation here in the north, why choose this gin joint to…” He was about to continue with 'drown your sorrows in?' when the Scarei intruded into their conversation. The demons smile and nod of familiarity had him raising an eyebrow in return as he caught and held the creatures golden gaze. He was a pretty demon, he would give him that, and his serpentine nature called to him, true; but there was no kinship between them if that was what he was inferring, nor was it excuse enough for his rude interruption.
Jesse's sudden appearance dragged his attention away from Apep for a moment and made him smile, although his attitude and self-service did not. The kid was looking for trouble, but the club wasn’t his to run nor was it his job to instruct the staff about proper protocols and job procedures. Marcus should be taking this into hand. He flicked his gaze to the bar tender and shook his head as he watched the guy turn a blind eye whilst pretending to search through the whiskey selections. “Oh buddy, you’re totally fucked!” He said, referring to both in warning and in resignation. Jesse loved to push the boundaries and Marcus will get slapped for letting this kind of behavour slide.
Phaedre watched the coming and going of her club from the comfort of the VIP section, enjoying how it kept her hidden from sight but allowed her to see all. She wore a sleek, black, silk Jovani evening gown that trailed to her ankles with a leg slit that stopped just shy of her ass and met with the diamond shaped, lace embroidered, peek-a-boo panels that followed up her sides and down her long, form fitting sleeves that ended at her wrists. Thinly strapped, black, high heels that criss-crossed up to her lower calves, and the gem encrusted, Eye of Medusa pendant that dangled between her cleavage, finished off the outfit.
Her brother seemed to be enjoying himself on the dance floor, but she was worried about him. At home they had their duties to keep them occupied and grounded, but here, she had the club to keep her busy, and Saraekiel; he on the other hand seemed to be slipping between the cracks. How long till he became seriously bored? Hanging out in the club all hours of the day was not good for him. She needed to find something for him to do, or someone, before he started to cause trouble simply for the fun of it. Maybe she should set him loose to play amongst the vampires like Saraekiel suggested.
She lost track of her brother when she noticed Apep slither in. She knew of the soul dealer who peddled drugs as a front for his main business. He had come to her attention when she had heard his name bounced around her club. She didn’t care what people did for their kicks and kinks, as long as they kept their shit out of her house. She narrowed her eyes in speculation as she tracked the scarei with her eyes and watched as he made his way to the bar, taking note of any and all he spoke to. So focused was she on him, she didn’t notice Jesse until he sauntered behind the counter like he owned the place and helped himself to her booze.
That fucking werewolf was a god damned thorn in her side; the proverbial pebble in her outrageously expensive fucking shoe. Her nose flared in irritation as he poured his drink and swallowed it. Jesse was likable enough, she supposed, but he respected nothing and no one he didn’t fear first, and the only one on that list so far was Val.
As Jess poured his second drink, she blinked herself to his side, a sensual smile curving the corner of her lips upwards like a bow, belying the wrath that filled her as she appeared at his side from out of nowhere.
“Why, hello Jesse” She crooned longingly to the were in greeting, ignoring everyone else at the bar for now. Her tone kept soft and seductive as she snatched the drink out of his hand before he even noticed it was gone, her other hand trailing up his arm and over his shoulder as she began to slowly circle him, her steps slow, sexy and totally predatory. “You look very dashing this evening. When does your shift start?” She asked, knowing full well he didn't have a shift tonight. Her hand trailed slowly up his neck and along his jawline, her hands making sure his face and attention was focused entirely on her.
She was pissed and so very fucking tired of the majority of the weres attitude towards her nightclub.