New York, New York

[Existentially Odd]

Daniel followed at a slightly slower pace, doing his best to subtly touch his neck and work out whether or not he was giving open access to his jugular.  He\'d never been in much of a position to take notice of how high or low he got bitten but he supposed it was okay if the collar of his shirts touched the very base of his neck - they didn\'t feel to be covering much at all.

Happy that he was suitably (enough) attired, the mortal tucked one leg under him and lowered himself to the couch, very close to the vampire he was offering himself to.  It only occurred to him in that moment (which was pretty stupid, really) that he was trusting his life to a perfect stranger, who had no understanding of or deference for the tattoo on his wrist, so there was nothing at all stopping him from just drinking until Daniel died.

Although it cast a brief shadow of uncertainty over him - causing him to frown slightly as he bent forward so that he was hovering over Ben\'s lap, looking sightlessly down at thighs he didn\'t known and certainly hadn\'t caressed - it didn\'t stop him.  His heart beating wildly with excitement, he was in position in a few moments, his hands tucked in between his knees and his eyes closed as he waited for Ben to simply lean forward and begin drinking.  Aziz had been very big on him presenting himself; it wasn\'t in him to question that training now, not when he was so close to what thrilled him.

[Trillian]

Daniel slipped into position so quickly and easily that Ben found himself faced with the easiest task in the world.  There was a hung moment, one that could barely be measured in time, where all the obvious meanings behind Daniel\'s simple but telltale gesture hit Ben directly and had him shocked.  He was more or less about to feed on someone else\'s unofficial pet.  It wasn\'t so much that Daniel was a groupie, or that he\'d had some kind of understanding with Aziz that basically meant the vampire could leave without a word to him and not feel guilty, but the fact that Daniel had been trained to concede.

The conscious intelligence and logic in Ben had him analysing the situation with cool indifference, but the emotional side of him had him horrified with the fact that he was about to take advantage of someone\'s needy addiction.  Yet another part of him - and this was the dominant part at this present moment - was predatory.  He was salivating at the thought of biting into the tender flesh just in front of his face, he could see and feel the racing pulse of blood just beneath the surface that called out to him.  Oh, he really needed to feed, and the knowledge of this hit him hardest when food was on the plate (to use the most callous description).

The moment gone in the instant that it was, so that Daniel wouldn\'t think that there was any pause at all, Ben indeed leant forward and pressed his cool lips to Daniel\'s warm neck.  The heated flesh and rush of blood beneath the skin had Ben sighing against him, while his hand raised up to cup the other side of Daniel\'s head, half of his face and his fingers sliding up beneath the beanie into curls.  He held Daniel in place then, though he really had no need to, and sought with his tongue for the right place, dabbing lightly until the tip found just the right spot and he nibbled tentatively against the flesh to let Daniel know the bite would come soon, before he bit in gently but deeply, allowing the blood to be drawn out of the mortal at a fairly steady - but not gushing - pace.  He wasn\'t interested in extending the moment, in making a shallow bite in order to prolong the intensity.  He wanted to feed, Daniel wanted to be fed from, and that would be that.

Though that was not just that, for Ben\'s eyes closed and he lost himself in the sensation of drinking, much like he usually did, listening to the strong and rhythmic pounding of Daniel\'s heart, the metronome of life.  His other hand came up of its own accord, settling on Daniel\'s shoulder and squeezing gently, almost soothingly, as he drank.  The act wasn\'t a conscious one, but born of empathy.  He wanted to console his victim as he took their blood, an unspoken promise that he wouldn\'t hurt them.

[Existentially Odd]

The gentleness of it all stunned him.  From the moment lips had been pressed to his throat instead of fangs simply sliding in, hard and fast, as he\'d got used to, his eyelashes were fluttering their delicate surprise and he was overtaken by shivers.  Awareness continued to roll up and down his body as a tongue followed those beautifully soft lips and then he was nibbled before the fangs were finally inserted - by which time his skin was so hard with goosebumps and his shoulders shaking so lightly with the shivers that he didn\'t even feel them go in.

It was a seduction he\'d never experienced and he was, entirely, seduced by this vampire.  The bite part had always been a grin-and-bear-it moment up until now, something he held his breath through, only letting it out once the blood began to flow and then all was sweetness and beauty.  Now, he had no breath for an entirely different reason and by the time his blood was leaving his body he was sexually charged, physically aroused (he was aware that he had a semi but didn\'t think it would become obvious in his kneeling position, so he wasn\'t worried) and dizzy as the bliss rose up to engulf him.

Danny yanked his hands from between his knees and grabbed instead for the legs below him, ending up gripping one of Ben\'s thighs in each of his hands as he wobbled in a way he\'d never done.  When his face and shoulder were gripped, it only increased the surreal sensation of this being an act of lovemaking and he instinctively curled towards Ben, shifting his weight onto the vampire like a happy cat who approves of the stroking it is receiving and wants more, more, more.  The fact that this submissive fawning was nothing like him didn\'t have time to occur, he was too busy enjoying the loveliness of it.

In the early days, when he\'d first begun going to Liquid Empire just to watch and wonder, he\'d seen acts like these and sneered at them, at the mortals crawling - literally - all over the vampires like animals in heat.  He\'d had a few experiences in his very late teens (when he\'d first tried the bite) that had led him to one man\'s bed or other but he couldn\'t recall any of them being this sensual and for the last three years there\'d just been Aziz.  He hadn\'t had to lurk around the clubs to get his fix, he got the essence of it right at his doorstep - and that harsh vampire had not cared two whits for making the experience anything beautiful.  Daniel had always appreciated the primal savageness of it - enough to, stupidly, once or twice offer himself to the asshole who bit him - but now he saw his folly.

This was far and away a more pleasant way to fly and even though it was only once, he wasn\'t sure he could ever go back.  He\'d not even planned to knock on Ben\'s door again after tonight, figuring he could simply go to the club for his fix (if he was prepared to do that, there would be no change-of-plan issues in his head), but now... right now he couldn\'t imagine this even stopping.  He could hear and see the bridge he needed for his last song, the notes floating towards him like psychadelic angels, carried on the sound waves of swelling violins (not an instrument he generally incorporated into his music but now he could see exactly where and how he\'d fit it).  He tasted words that suddenly wanted to be written down and, without being aware of it, he started to sing them quietly to himself (though if any human ears were nearby to hear it, they would have thought only that he was moaning rhythmically in time with the feline arching of his body).

Yes, he was definitely seduced and completely absorbed in the moment of feeding, living his music in a far more pure sense than he ever had when he\'d tried drugs and possibly even moreso than even when he was on stage, performing it (that one was a tough call, though, as he\'d had far more bites than stage experiences and couldn\'t accurately compare the thrills).  He squeezed Ben\'s thighs and hung on, feeling like it was the ride of his life.

[Trillian]

Eventually, it had to end, as Ben was aware of how much he was taking even through the haze of his feeding.  He didn\'t want Daniel stumbling around though he figured the mortal might be dizzy.  He didn\'t have anything to eat in his apartment (unless the vampire who lived here had left that, too, but he doubted it) so was grateful Daniel said he lived in the building, so he could go to his home and eat and drink something sweet to get his energy back up.

Ben bit at his lip, as was his customary method when ending his feeding foray, and bled his healing blood into Daniel\'s wound, lapping at the spillage while Daniel\'s skin closed up.  The first hand to leave was the one holding Daniel\'s face, it dropped onto the sofa cushion at his side, and Ben pulled back a little so he could see where the wound no longer was, checking it was properly healed before he pushed lightly on Daniel\'s shoulder, urging him to move back for it was over now.  There was more than a hint of embarrassment at the intimacy they\'d shared, for he knew what it was like on the other side of that bite, but was grateful that Daniel had far from draped himself over him - or tried to touch him - like many of the Risk goers had when Ben chose to feed from them.  Usually a soft rejection was enough to keep them at bay, and he would often pick those that were a little more shy to not be offered anything he would only refuse.

"If you feel lightheaded you should eat or drink something," he suggested quietly, still thinking about how easily he\'d fed from Daniel and the fact the other had been singing some kind of song towards the end.  That was different, and he thought it pretty cool in fact, that Daniel was musical.  "Do you need me to help you to your place?" he offered, even though he\'d never meant to.  There was obligation in him, to make sure the person he\'d drunk from was alright.

[Existentially Odd]

When the intensity dropped and left him bobbing in an ocean of bliss like so much flotsam and jetsam, Daniel sighed contentedly and slowly arched his back, rolling into a languid upright stretch that was also so complete, a few bones popped.  The sigh he released when he released that tension was loud and replete.  He opened his eyes - they were an even brighter, sparkly blue than before - and grinned dopily at Ben.

"No way, man," he drawled, falling back into a kneeling position, his butt resting upon the heels of his feet and his hands now resting calmly upon his own thighs.  He was dizzy, but there was no way he was going to skip out and push himself out of this state - it was exactly what he needed, to be so relaxed that he could tap into the deep, dark river that was his creative unconscious.  He sounded drugged or sleepy (or post-coitally satiated) and had quite the bedroom expression to go with it, but his mind was whirring a million miles an hour.

Apparently he could also only process small amounts of information in this state of mind also, because there was a lull of conversation in between his denial and his next, almost sudden answer.  "Nah, I can make it," he chuckled, his deep, thick voice raising evidence to the contrary.  He turned his head to look over his shoulder at his gear, his lips pursing contemplatively, and appeared for all the world as if he might be listening to the thing talk to him.  He certainly seemed not to have anything more for Ben for the time being... not while he was content to kneel on his couch and stare dreamily off into the distance.

[Trillian]

Ben watched Daniel for a little bit, mulling on his answer, and figured Daniel would likely be sitting on the sofa for a little bit longer until his head cleared.  Ben left him to it, getting up and wiping his palms on his jeans even though they weren\'t sweaty, for it was moreso a nervous habit.  He moved around the sofa, announcing that he was going to go unpack, feeling a bit odd about telling Daniel but he would\'ve felt rude if he hadn\'t said anything at all.

He moved to his suitcases and picked up one in each hand, taking them into the bedroom and moving about from the built-in wardrobe to the dresser in order to put away button-up shirts or t-shirts, pants or shorts.  The bottom most drawer held his journals while his shoes - two pairs of them - were set tidily on the wardrobe floor.  A pair of sandals, a pair of lace up colorados and sneakers on his feet were enough to see him through, he thought.  He was a master of living sparsely, considering how many times he\'d moved house throughout his life since leaving home at sixteen.

[Existentially Odd]

Eventually, the mortal got up off the couch, stumbling a little more than he would have liked (and a lot more than he was used to, since Aziz had been far older than Ben was and hadn\'t drunk because he\'d needed the sustenance) and making a lot more of a racket than intended.  He laughed through his nose at such antics, aware that he vampire would liken him to a herd of stampeding elephants and finding that uproariously funny.

"Oops," he giggled to himself as he got his feet onto the ground but swayed wildly back towards the couch, having to put a hand out to brace himself on its arm.  Once everything stopped spinning (oh but it was a lovely show) and he felt fairly confident about getting across the room again (he really didn\'t recall the wall where he\'d left his gear being that far away and for it to have moved really seemed rude), he began a steady shuffle towards his gear, hoping he wasn\'t disturbing Ben with his scratchings and scrapings.

He fully intended to pick up his bag, sling it over his shoulder and get out of the apartment as quickly and quietly as possible.

[Trillian]

Ben heard Daniel moving around as he placed the now empty suitcases on the high shelf in the wardrobe.  At first he wasn\'t alarmed, but after the strange steps continued (along with the thump sound, which was Daniel\'s hand on the sofa arm), Ben went out to investigate.

He saw immediately that Daniel needed his assistance, whether he wanted it or not.  He also felt guilty that he\'d drunk from the mortal and then run off into the bedroom so he wouldn\'t have to feel awkward sitting with him.  Instead of asking Daniel if he wanted help, Ben was going to just help him even if there were protests.  It was only fair, for now he felt warm and content, and that was Daniel\'s doing.

Beating Daniel to the equipment, even without celerity, Ben began to pick up the bag by the strap so he could place it over his own shoulders, reaching out a steadying hand to a wobbling Daniel, who looked ready to say something.

"Your stuff won\'t like being smacked against the walls if you lose your balance for a moment, right?" Ben prompted, then placed the headphones around Daniel\'s neck, while an arm went around the human\'s waist, connecting the two young men at the hip.  "C\'mon," he said, which was more a request to be allowed to help Daniel than an urging to get him moving.

[Existentially Odd]

Daniel raised his eyebrows at Ben, blinking like the vampire had just appeared very suddenly beside him and it was the niftiest magic trick he\'d seen in years.  He opened his mouth and closed his eyes like he was about to lecture on the merits of walking alone - but he words seemed to die and he then simply smiled and looked googly-eyed at the blonde instead.

"Okay," he agreed airily, not minding at all that he was being cuddle-walked back to his place by a pretty vampire.  Why should he?  The vampire was doing all the concentrating on the walking and all he had to do was make sure his feet were moving a little bit to keep him happy.  The music in his head was swelling so much the tips of his fingers were beginning to itch - all eight of them.  He needed to get to his keyboard or his guitar to play this out or he\'d forget it, he was pretty certain... but still, all his body seemed able to do was shuffle.

By the time the pair were out of the apartment, the urge to remember and to produce was like a fever in him - it was all he could concentrate on, and lyrics kept flying at him, in a few possible melodies and he simply couldn\'t hold it in any longer.  Quietly but in a slightly husky and beautifully pitched voice that was an octave higher than his speaking voice, he began to sing to himself as Ben walked him home, lost in his own world.

"And I don\'t know
if it\'s me or it\'s you
but the problem is that
there\'s both of us too -
andthat\'sjust iiiiit.
All we may ever know.
Let the two of us
and fade as we go-o-o-o-ooooo."

He tried it different ways, emphasising different lines with different inflections and didn\'t really register when he got to his door, unaware that he\'d led Ben there by the nuances of his body.  He fumbled at his hip for a moment, searching to get his keys out of his bag before he realised he wasn\'t wearing his bag, panicked and then gave a breathy laugh at himself as he realised he wasn\'t alone and his bag was right there.

Still singing quietly to himself, he disentangled himself from Ben and attempted to lean around him to lift the flap and get into his bag to fish his keys out.  His bleary lack of focus on what he was doing, the amount of stuff jammed into his bag and his lagging movements meant that this act was going to take quite a long while - unless Ben decided he didn\'t like a mumble-singing human pawing all over him like he didn\'t exist and decided to do something about it, of course.

[Trillian]

Once again, Ben was intrigued with the singing and he found himself paying attention to the tune and what was being said.  He\'d figured that the song was new - not because he hadn\'t heard it before, for there were many current songs he had no idea about - but because it sounded like a work in progress with all the different ways Daniel sang it.

The pawing was rather intrusive, though he understood why it was so.  Ben was caught between amusement and exasperation, concentrating more on letting the former win over the latter, for it felt selfish to him to be impatient with a complete stranger who\'d helped him out.  Yes, it was true that the blood-drinking had been a mutual benefit (considering Daniel had almost-but-not-quite-begged Ben to drink from him), but Ben still felt like he\'d got more out of it anyway.

He let Daniel fumble long enough so he could see where his hand was mostly targeting before he gently pushed Daniel\'s hand away and sought out the apartment key himself, finding it fairly easy in the depths of the bag because he saw it glinting in the dark shadows of the bag itself - thanks to his superior vision.

Pulling out the key, he offered Daniel a smile as he held it up between them, not saying anything because he didn\'t want to interrupt the constant humming of a nifty tune.  It felt rude to interfere with an artistic process.  Whenever someone walked in on him writing (and here he thought passingly of Jack), it irritated him, and he figured it would be the same for Daniel when the human was trying to get his music right in his head.

With the key sliding home in the lock and turning easily, Ben nudged the door open and let it swing inward, hesitating only for a moment before going in with Daniel, still helping the mortal.  He didn\'t want to barge into Daniel\'s residence, but he figured the sofa - that he\'d seen from the door - was the safest place to let the mortal go.  Once the pair reached it, he dropped Daniel carefully onto the cushion, feeling awkward once more after guessing what they must\'ve looked like, and then removing the bag from around his shoulder and placing it gently on the floor at Daniel\'s feet.

"Um.  If you\'re okay, I\'ll just go now," he said, not realising his subconscious desire to escape this peculiar scenario was causing him to phrase his exit as a statement instead of a question as to how Daniel was doing (which had been his intention).

[Existentially Odd]

It was true that the sofa was the safest place to let Daniel go because his apartment - which seemed generous in Ben\'s instance, when sparsely furnished - was pokey and cluttered.  Thankfully, it wasn\'t mess that cluttered the room, it was musical instruments; against the left wall stood a bruised and battered upright piano that had seen better days (but still looked loved, with a towel spread across the top and some fish swimming around in a lighted tank atop that), on the opposite side of the room was an equally-used drum kit with every cymbal and attachment a full stage-performing rock group might require, against the wall beside the door was another wall - this one black and kind of furry, since it was constructed of about ten amplifiers - and gathered around the couch was an army of string instruments.

Any bit of exposed wall (there was a four-level book case piled with various stacks of books and papers alike against the one that had the bathroom and bedroom doors leading off it) had egg cartons taped to it, giving the impression of dead air.  Well, that was what one of his visitors had described it as and it was one of the many reasons that he rarely had people inside his studio/home/bubble.  Never mind, though, it suited him well enough.

None of these things held Danny\'s focus, of course - nor did Ben speaking, for that matter.  The mortal had fallen onto the couch and reached to retrieve a new-looking-glinting-with-varnish acoustic guitar he\'d left leaning against the back of it, in what had to be a familiar position, considering the way his hand fell upon it without him even looking for its pegs to be peeking over the couch back.  As soon as it was in his hands, he scooted his butt forward so that he was hovering over the coffee table (quite a skinny and rickety affair it was, too) before him, picking up the pencil left sitting on a long stretch of paper (in amongst numerous other piles of the stuff, plus a stack of published sheet music and an open music book) with one hand, and making chords with the other.

"Sure," he eventually told Ben, scribbling for all that he was worth on the paper before he abruptly dropped the pencil, flicked the paper back and started picking out his song on the guitar.  His fingers danced nimbly over the strings, drawing from them a poignant yet harried sound that bespoke things not going right.  The words he sang went with the discordant-sounding music, proving that this was a story of people being together who shouldn\'t be together because they were bad for each other... but nor could they walk away and let the other be, instead they would fade into pale representations of themselves instead of sacrificing a rotten egg for sanity (that line didn\'t quite work yet, but now that he\'d been drained into enlightenment, Danny was sure he could find the right lyrics for there).

[Trillian]

Ben was about to rapidly depart, except the sounds of the strumming had him dawdling on his way to the door and the lyrics that went with it had him pausing at the doorway, his hand on the knob.  He looked back at the form he could no longer properly see on the couch, though his hearing allowed him to pick up more than Daniel was likely expecting him to hear.  He suspected that Daniel wasn\'t even aware Ben was still in his house, so lost was he in his music.  The process fascinated Ben, who\'d always been able to write entire journals without pause (and in turn this fascinated others), but had never been able to imagine music, like he\'d been able to imagine his words structured on a page.  It was like a hardcopy of his constant thoughts, and it was one thing that always seemed to get his thoughts in order - for he was constantly barraged by them.  He guessed Daniel might be the same way - that the music was linear, hypnotic, and he was his most himself.

It felt like spying, after a few minutes passed, and Ben let himself out without another word, quietly closing the door behind himself, but not forgetting the strange but lovely melody that Daniel was working on.  He went to his apartment to unpack, and was a lot more hopeful about facing a new city, now that he was armed with knowledge about an easier existence, thanks to a place called Liquid Empire, and thanks to Daniel for telling him about it.


* * * * *

BEN FOUND HIMSELF SITTING IN a booth at the Liquid Empire club.  He\'d imagined it to be much like Risk, but the club was more like a nightclub with a hotel attached, if the signs and information notices were correct.

After he\'d entered the club, feeling the pulse of music before he heard it, and before he could smell the blood that seemed to pour out the door on the scent of sweat.  The smell of sex wasn\'t anywhere near the levels it had been in Risk, and for this Ben was grateful.  After going inside and immediately up some stairs, he turned left to find himself near a bar that extended along the left wall beside him and then did a ninety degree turn right to follow along the next wall, and all the way (surprisingly) into what was obviously the dancefloor.  A DJ booth could be seen suspended above the dancefloor, and the music was mostly electronica, though there were multiple melodies interjected into it that made it interesting to listen to.  Ben wasn\'t usually a fan of techno, but this was like a few levels above and beyond techno - like it followed that style but wouldn\'t be enslaved by it.

His gaze found two sets of metal stairs (on wire suspension) which made everything feel modern and minimilstic.  The mezzanine level followed around the dancefloor, so that people above could look down on the dancers.  Another bar was upstairs too, but Ben was more interested in the booths he could see - much better than the stools bolted around small modern bartables designed to hold a couple of drinks and nothing else, which he had scattered on the floor level where he was at.

He moved further in, not wishing to risk a comment from any clubgoers behind him, and on impulse went upstairs.  He immediately saw booth tables and smelled meals, obviously there was a kitchen as well as a bar up here.  He could see a few booths (which sat six comfortably, due to the horseshoe shape) were filled with vampires, or mortals, mostly segregated.  He found that unusual, but upon reading the notice that was pinned up on a board very close to the stairs, he realised there were \'drinking rooms\' on two floors above them, and access could be achieved via the elevator down the short corridor on his right.  Blinking at that information for a moment, Ben found a smaller booth (which would sit four instead of six), tucked away in a place that was not designed to hold anyone that wanted to be \'seen on the scene\', and found himself being questioned by a waitress if he wanted anything to drink.  She recommended the AB+ because it was fresh.  Stunned, he agreed to a glass of it, and she scribbled it down before making her way to the next booth.

He sat where he was for about five minutes, undisturbed until the waitress returned with his drink - served in a warmed tall glass - and was surprised once again when she said it was complimentary for newcomers, declining even a tip.  He wondered how regular the regulars were and contemplated this even as he began to sip the blood out of the glass.  He was only halfway through his drink when he caught someone else\'s attention.

[Existentially Odd]

His name was Sotiris and the truth of the matter was that the fair newcomer had caught his attention the moment he mounted the steps to the mezzanine level and tucked himself away in a nowhere booth, long before his drink had arrived. One flare of his broad nostrils had sucked in a scent that seemed... purer somehow, than the usual clientele in this place.  The blonde seemed fresh but thing was... he wasn\'t, because Sotiris could tell that, too.  Young, but not a fledgling; yet he was acting like the last virgin left standing in the middle of a bacchanalia.  Intriguing.

Extricating himself from his obligatory horde of fawners and followers - for he was touted as the owner of Liquid Empire, wasn\'t he?  And so everybody wanted him to know their name - he slunk away from his booth (mostly opposite) and over to the new boy\'s instead.  He moved with a liquid grace that only a man who has existed two thousand years on the planet could own and he came to a stop in front of the boy\'s booth, posing a moment before he sat, so that the newcomer could take him in.

He wasn\'t overly tall but he was stocky with muscle, his countenance that of a Greek God.  He had been born in Greece a couple of millenia ago, but had been turned at eighteen and had travelled so much since that time that there was no heavy accent still staining his tongue.  His brown eyes - so dark they were almost black - looked broody beneath heavy brows, set deeply around his long, broad column of a nose (truly, the thing that dominated his face at first glance, until those twinkling black eyes got the attention they deserved).  His eyelashes were impossibly thick and curly, matching the rakish mop of dark brown curls that floated willfully about his head, brushing the lobes of his ears, the back of his neck... his eyelashes when they fell forward from their extremity atop his cranium.  His lips were swollen and pouty - like he\'d just awalked away from an hour-long session of passionate kisses - emphasising the pointed tip of his flattish nose with their slight upturn and extravagant curvature.

Gathering the edges of his suit jacket, he slid into the booth smoothly, coming to a stop very close to Ben\'s left side and then curling his hands together atop the table.  He wasn\'t entirely dressed in a business suit, of course - the faded black jacket was artfully torn or picked at a few seams, patched at the elbows and didn\'t quite match the tailored black slacks.  It covered a white shirt unbuttoned to his chest, but he wore a fat black tie mostly around the collar (parts of it were underneath), the knot of it resting atop alabaster skin and some tight brown chest hairs just peeking through the deliberate slit in the shirt\'s top.  For no real reason, there was a deep red silk vest buttoned underneath the loose jacket, flashing colour and reflecting light every time he moved - though he made a show of holding the jacket closed as he sat (not going to the trouble of actually buttoning it, of course), like he didn\'t want to lose his dark and broody aura.  The theme of his clothing was... ruffled, if anything, for nothing exactly matched, the fabrics were somehow opposed to one another and nothing was straight... yet it somehow worked, on him.  Because he was Sotiris, and by attitude alone would he carry off anything he set his mind to (if he had to).

"Good evening," he bade the newcomer, his rich voice not accented exactly, but there was a melodic flow to his words that enchanted - and he knew it.  He smiled intimately, leaning over his hands clasped on the table and towards Ben, like he had a special secret he wanted to share and the youngling\'s ear was exactly where his beautiful mouth wished to deposit it.  "What brings you to my club?" he asked softly, not pulling away once his private little message was delivered, but, rather, tilting his head so that it remained in close proximity with Ben\'s and he could look straight into his silvery eyes.

[Trillian]

Ben was intimidated by Sotiris\' visit almost from the very start, when the older vampire paused by his booth.  He\'d known then, that he would be joined, but he was unsettled that he was sat beside instead of across from.  Even though he found the other attractive, he still didn\'t like it when strangers insisted on taking up his personal space.  It made him feel awkward and want to flee, or at the very least to shuffle away.  Fidgeting while Sotiris got himself settled (although it had been a rather graceful maneouvre, like he\'d dripped into the booth instead of plopped himself down to sit in it - like Ben had) and only slightly turning his head so he could see the other from the corner of his eye, Ben was overwhelmed quite suddenly by the sensation of age.  His sire would recognise the feeling, but to Ben it didn\'t inspire awe, rather he felt swamped in it, lending him to feel self-conscious and insignificant.

He swallowed nothing, and that was when he was greeted, and asked about the club.  His club, he\'d said, and Ben\'s curiosity overpowered his flightyness in order to finally turn his head properly to gaze at the other, making eye contact.  Ben\'s expression felt unreadable to himself, but he was showing a questioning look to Sotiris.

"Recommendation," he managed to spit out, sounding more together than he felt.  He wanted to quite suddenly lick his lips, but held back from the gesture, not wishing to imply anything.  Instead, he turned back to look at the glass held gently in his right hand in front of him, and took another sip.

[Existentially Odd]

If anything, his eyes twinkled more brightly and he blinked once as he looked at the childe, waiting to be told who had done the recommending.  The way he looked down and had a sip of his blood instead of elaborating, however, was a surprise.  He was trying to be nonchalant but Sotiris knew he couldn\'t be, with the restraint he was showing and the attention Sotiris was giving.  It was hard to resist attention given by the ancient one, and the fact that this snippet was attempting to do so simply made him burn to dishevel his pretty, collected facade.

And it was a pretty facade, too; that made Sotiris want to dishevel him in all sorts of other ways.  "Who told you?" he drawled, his gaze roving the newcomer\'s features curiously.  He resisted the urge to peek into the boy\'s mind because he always enjoyed little games of intrigue.  They were few and far between, for everybody around here was usually very eager to please, very eager to roll over and bare the white of their belly at the first sign of his interest.  The more he peered at this one, the more he seemed to be getting stonewalled... it was very exciting!