Some days Neon wondered if he would ever change his living situation significantly. Ever since his first run in with vampires, he had been involved in their world in ways that made very little sense to a human. But, Neon was human. And thus the problems arose. Neon had been born a human and for the first part of his life raised a human. But ever since he'd first met a vampire, he'd had that voice whispering in his ear that there was something not quite human about him, deformity aside. He ignored it. He couldn't be anything but human, there was no other option. He had no abilities, or special talents. Though he'd never known his parents, he didn't think they would have been abandoned as a child if he had some inherited family supernatural trait. Instead, he was a 'normal' 22 year-old with no family, working at a downtown bar called La Clé Secrète or 'The Secret Key', known to the locals as just 'the vampire bar'. About half of the city openly criticized the place as a dirty, shameful place where no decent human should be seen. About half of those people would go anyway. It was a place where humans could see supernaturals the way they thought they should be, mysterious and sexual, abnormal. The owner, Marcel, was very particular about who he hired... but there was the occasional human server. He tried to keep an atmosphere of otherworldliness as his draw for humans and supernaturals alike. Knowing the kind of place it was didn't stop Neon from acting like it was just another normal job, and for him it was. There weren't too many other places he could get away with wearing his right arm completely wrapped up and gloved without getting weird looks. Here it just added to the 'allure' of being a server boy. But the establishment, while having the reputation of being 'unclean', was anything but. It was actually a very well-managed, high class place. It just happened to be run by vampires, with mostly supernatural servers and 'dancers'. It was more of a club then just a bar, with nightly shows where both male and female dancers would be on stage. Only supernaturals were allowed to be dancers, though Marcel had tried to convince Neon to be a dancer, he'd had no luck. Neon had the body and was never required to wear his arm wraps at the bar, but he refused to let anyone but the owner know what he was hiding. Marcel had given him a job anyway, but Neon was pretty convinced he was only doing it to keep him under his watchful eye, like property. Vampires were all about ownership, especially the old ones. Tonight was a night like any other. Neon was waiting tables in his skin tight clothing, usually a maroon shirt and black pants, to fit the theme of the bar. He was currently being harassed, which happened at least three times on a busy night. Everyone wanted to know what he was, especially the human women that came to the bar. When he would tell them human, they would either laugh like he was being a tease or ignore him and proceed to ask when he would be on stage. Tonight a regular had already asked him just that, convinced that he was something supernatural, and Neon had purposefully led her to believe for several night now that the reason he was never on stage was because Marcel believed he wasn't up to par. She would flit and tell him she knew he was good enough and he would flit back just enough to get her off his case. She came in about once a week. He was expected to keep the customers happy at all costs, and had perfected over the past year his ability to mask himself, to come out of his normal comfort zone and pretend he was enjoying it. However, whenever he'd come back to the bar with his back turned to the room, one could see a hint of exhaustion in his face, like it took a lot out of him to keep up the persona. At the moment, he was being harassed by a vampire. This happened more often than he liked to think about. Vampires were all over him, and many had complained to Marcel in the past that Neon wasn't up on stage, or available for the back rooms. Marcel pacified them with the promise that one day he would be, but that he was still being 'trained'. Neon wasn't convinced this was just a lie he was telling the other vampires. Tonight he'd hit a persistent one, someone new to the bar. She had her hand on his stomach in a too familiar way and Neon was looking for a way to wriggle out of the situation peacefully. "And what night do you dance, sweetie?" She purred at him. He took her hand as though he'd just wanted to delicately hold it, and gave her a smile. "Sorry ma'am, but I'm not a dancer. I assure you, our dancers are much more suited to the task than I." She pulled her hand away, a dangerous look in her eyes as she lingered on his tightly wrapped arm. "At least share your secret, dear. There are no dress codes here." She started to reach for his right arm when he stepped back. "We can't divulge all at the Secret Key, now can we? Where would be the fun in that?" He ran a hand down his stomach to appear flirty, then spun on his heel to get the drinks they'd ordered before she could continue her harassment.