CLOSED SIGNUPS Vampire: the Masquerade - Visions

[Lillian Gray]

CS Link

Wesley 'Wes' James Moore

He tried not to let it bother him. The invitation he hadn't received. The meeting he wasn't supposed to attend. Why did it matter anyhow, whether or not Wesley was invited to some early morning audience with his majesty the Prince himself? They were of the same Toreador blood. Surely it would trickle down the grapevine and he'd hear all about it over a bloody Mary at the bar from another patron. He really did try to not let it bother him.

But there was only so much he could do.

Wesley sat in his darkened apartment, leg twitching in annoyance as he squinted in the dim at the shoddy manuscript on the large box computer screen. He tapped a pen against the edge of the keyboard as he hummed along to the smooth record of Etta James' Stormy Weather and tried to lose himself in her hypnotizing vocals. The pit of his stomach still churned with a repulsive feeling of jealousy. His eyes had long stopped focusing on what was written ever since the sun had gone down. All he could think about was the night that could have been rather than the manuscript he was supposed to be editing. Even the lovely Miss Etta James couldn't quell the abominable feeling of envy. It was supposed to be his night off and instead he was beating to a jealous tune.

His phone vibrated loudly across his disorganized workstation, effectively pulling him from his trance. Wesley cursed loudly at the noise. He stretched across a mess of papers and books to reach for his Nokia. A few scattered notes slipped out of places and onto the floor, joining another pile that had already formed days ago. When he saw the name flash across the screen his lips curled up softly. His leg stopped twitching. So Hanna was thinking about him? How sweet. The rest of the message scrolled across the screen and he was up and stripping from his sweats in a heartbeat.

He shoved his wallet in his pocket and replied to Hanna's message before slipping outside. It was getting to be a bit bright out for his liking. Ah well, they'd just have to be quick about it.

anything 4 u cutie - b there in 10

---

If only a few minutes late, no thanks to a few stray hairs, Wesley pulled up to the outside of Leon's Lounge and parked on the curb. A few heads turned his way and he couldn't deny that he enjoyed the kine's attempts at subtlety to catch a glimpse of the man who had such an eye catching car. Eye catching, eye sore-- it was all attention. He tucked a loose hair behind his ear and glanced at his overall appearance in the rearview mirror. Good enough.

Wesley stepped out of his neon green Dodge Viper and gave a swift kick with his ankle high boot to shut the door behind him. Seeing as sunrise was quite literally on the horizon, he was a bit dressed down for the usual company that liked to hang around Leon's. No point in putting forth the effort if no one was around to see it. The blonde haired Toreador donned a corded sweater beneath his favorite leather jacket, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He had dark ripped jeans on that were far from the bell bottom trend. Those few stray hairs had forced him to tie his hair back at the base of his head in a loose ponytail. It was closer to punk than black tie but it'd have to get him in the door.

He didn't bother to lock the affectionately named 'Green Machine' as he skipped over the curb and towards the bar. If someone really wanted to steal his car, they could try, but Hanna would have them pinned in an alley by the end of the week looking for the keys. Sometimes it was hard to tell who loved the car more. Wesley, or Hanna.

Neon lights and a fine cigarette haze illuminated his tall frame as he stepped foot into the bar. His hazel eyes took a moment to scan the crowd in search of the girls, grinning at Hanna the moment he spotted her next to the new blood. Hard to miss that one, with a scar like that. He couldn't help but feel a touch of sympathy for the traumatic embrace she must have endured. It didn't need to be that way at all. But, that was a topic for another time.

"Hanna, your noble steed has arrived." He walked over to the bar with his arms open and greeted Hanna with a quick peck on the cheek. He turned to Izzy, but kept his distance. It was more so for her sake than anything else. She looked a shade paler than a Ghoul and had a hint of vomit on her breath. "Don't worry, there's room for two." Wesley winked.

Wesley remained standing, opting to lean against the counter instead. He just wanted to get out of there and hear what it was Hanna had to tell him. Gossip was always a good topic of conversation, especially when it involved his majesty.

"Leon, a pleasure as always." Wesley smiled softly. "What's the tab? I'll pick it up tonight."

 

[Kuno]

Amélie

God had given her two middle fingers for a reason. She had a fat one waiting for the Prince and his stooge, and another one for her rinky-dink driver right after she got done taking her foot out of his ass.

It was her first night using Earl as a driver. She'd see him skulking around Madame before, but she'd never gotten the chance to speak with him, much less work with him. He was about forty, just shy of 200 pounds, with thick, coarse brown hair and demure, bland features. He was as dull as they came; unlike the others, he was aware of his own ignorance, yet chose to do nothing about it. Something told Amélie that when the man dismissed her as an annoying kid that it was because he really believed that she was, in fact, just a kid - nevermind that she was old enough to be his great grandmother. Apparently he had heard Madame refer to her as her "baby" once and got the idea stuck in that thick skull of his. Annoyance could not quite capture what she felt when he first referred to her as a "child". Child. Child.

If it was not for Madame's protection, she would have boiled him alive ages ago. As it stood, she needed him to drive, and that alone forced her to be unremarkably calm.

"Hey Earl, can you take me to Leon's Lounge?" Her fingers traced a pattern in the window. She glanced at the driver - Child. He called me child, the stupid little - then back out at the street, before she said something uncivil. "You know where it is, right? Leon's?"

For a moment, nothing was said, until a heavy sigh filled the silence. The window pattern stopped.

"Yeah, 'course I know where it is. But I thought you were going home? That's what you said before, and you ain't said nothing since we left the docks. Leon's is wayyyy back that-a-way, east. You sure want me to drive all the way back? Madame only told me to take ya home, so..."

Amélie took a deep breath. And then another. Her voice came out slow, as if speaking to a child.

"I know what Madame said. However, Prince Washburn needs me somewhere else, so if you don't mind, I'm in a bit of a bind here. Alright?"

"Alright, kiddo," he replied. Her nails bit into her palms.

You can't hurt him. He's not your ghoul. He's not your ghoul. He's not your ghoul.

By some small mercy, Earl remained silent the rest of the way to Leon's. She left the man parked a block away at the curb and went on, dashing across into the street into the small venue ahead. She'd never been to Leon's. She'd heard many things about the lounge, but to see it for herself was a treat she hadn't been expecting. Amélie turned about the intimate space, studying the vintage decor with hidden appreciation. She would have preferred a dash of red with the bar instead of cerulean blue, but whatever. Good enough for the moment.

It was not hard to miss Hanna and Isabel already seated at the bar. There was a man next to the two, a tall blonde with his hair tucked back into a ponytail. She did not recognize him, but she assumed he was Leon - until she saw what he was wearing. A bit too casual for where they were; then again, they all looked a bit out of place. Even Amélie, with her gaudy red furs and her skin-tight leather. Fancy, yes, but a little too far on the wild side. It made sense that she'd never stepped a foot into the place before.

"So this is Leon's. Fancy, no?" Amélie drew up behind the other vampires, quirking a brow as she met their eyes. The blonde man had a decidedly handsome face. Pretty boys weren't really her type, but there was a lot there for her to appreciate. She jabbed a thumb in his direction, cutting her eyes towards Hanna.

"Who's this, your boyfriend?"

 

[Red Thunder]

​

Viscous and mortally red, the Bloody Mary slipped through the strainer in the shaker's mouth and into a tall glass. Leon eyed it with practiced critique, judging it worthy of a customer before garnishing it with a lime wedge and celery stalk.

"Not much of a tab yet, Mr. Wesley," Leon replied, sliding the drink to Isabel without having actually waited on her to order it. He gave her a smile, nodding. "You should be able to stomach that. Added a bit of Specialty, too, which ought to help."

At their entrance, the establishment's owner had nodded in respectful welcome to Hanna and her ward. It was perhaps 3 o'clock in the morning, if Marcus had actually remembered to reset the clocks after Daylight Saving Time had begun, which technically meant that he should no longer be serving his good stuff. But his diverse investments across Houston's underground economy had boosted his assets nicely, which had allowed him to line the pockets of precisely those in power over local law enforcement who might otherwise have something to say. Which meant he stayed open nigh on to dawn, bringing in yet more currency. There were, in fact, a handful of kine still lingering in a back corner around a table, conversing and debating with ethanol-fueled passion the ethics of genetics or something. Leon made them little mind.

Amélie joined the crowd gathering at the bar, and Leon tipped his head forward in appreciation.

"I strive for the style. Tell me: what might I get each of you this morning?"

∆∆∆​

"Damn; I've always wanted a Viper."

"Color's fuckin' shit, though."

"Man, fuck you. The green makes it shine, bitch."

The young woman tugged on the handle; it opened easily. Elation spread across her face, and she opened the car door slowly. Quick hands shot into her worn leather jacket, removing a hot wire kit from its depths. With small practiced movements, she began her work.

Wesley's arrival had of course drawn the attention of many a passer-by, and while most had been content to oogle the car, Raquel's gaze had lingered a good deal longer than was strictly necessary. Nor had the driver's indiscretion gone unnoticed. So, when Wesley had stepped inside and the street had cleared, both she and her partner in crime had descended on their target.

"If you gonna get hooked for car," her friend mumbled, sliding into the passenger seat, "at least get one that ain't sh-"

"Shut your mouth, Gina; I can't fuckin think."

With a huff, Gina sat back in the seat, shivering in her hooded sweatshirt. Her eyes scanned the streets, always on the lookout for a threat. As yet, the street remained deserted.

 

[Applo]

---

"Gee, thanks Wes." An impish smile spread across the scarred fledgling's face as she looked up at the lanky but stupidly hot blonde and waved at the empty bar in front of her and Hanna. "That smut you write finally started paying out then? Got enough for a decent car a-"

"Not much of a tab yet, Mr. Wesley,"

Twisting to look at the source of the voice that had cut off her friendly dig at Wes, Isabel found Leon gently pushing a vivid red drink towards her. It appeared to be a Bloody Mary just like Hanna had advised her to get; it even had the stalk of celery that they always had in TV shows. The smell though the smell suggested something different. Something more satisfying. Isabel gave the smiling bar keeper a questioning look.

"You should be able to stomach that. Added a bit of Specialty, too, which ought to help."

Lifting the glass with both hands, the youngest of the gathered vampires took another long sniff of its vibrant red contents before allowing herself the smallest of sips. The unmistakable metallic tang of blood filled her sense almost immediately. It wasn't fresh, Isabel could tell that immediately, but that wasn't to say it didn't taste divine. It was like she was biting into frozen yogurt when she was dreaming of ice cream; it wasn't quite right but still hit most of the right spots. Without pausing Isabel started to pour the drink into her mouth, jaw twitching as the beast took over and her mind emptied.

"So this is Leon's. Fancy, no?

The now familiarly dulcet tones of Amélie brought Isabel crashing back into the here and now, the nearly drained glass finally falling away from her lips. The horror of the fact that she had no memory at all of the last few seconds was more than offset by the feeling of calm and stillness inside of herself; for just a few moments, the beast was satiated. Spinning on her stool, the fledgling smiled shyly at the rockers as she sucked the stick of celery dry of the last dregs of the Bloody Mary before accidentally crunching through and swallowing a bit of the garnish when the french vampire asked Hanna if Wes was her boyfriend.

"If you saw an ugly ass car outside he's the moron who owns it if it helps." Shards of green flashed in the fledglings teeth as she spoke and as she twisted to face Leon once again she tried to dislodge some of them with her tongue. "Could I get another drink like this please?"

Once Leon was busying himself with the groups requests, Isabel looked at Wes before switching her gaze to Amelie and then finally Hanna. There was something she had been wondering ever since tall, blonde and handsome had turned up; the meeting had been invite only after all. Tilting in her chair slightly, purple hair came to rest almost against blue hair as Isabel whispered in her friend's ear.

"Should we tell him about the meeting?"

When Hanna's head dipped into a nod, Isabel beckoned Wes to come closer until his ear was by her mouth. In hurried and whispered tones she relayed what had happened at the meeting and how the Prince had suggested the started their search for the drug at Leon's.

"I was thinking maybe I should ask Leon if he knows about the stuff." Even after pulling back from Wes's ear Isabel spoke at a volume barely more than a whisper. "He might less cautious if it is just me, I dunno…I think I could tell him something he'd believe. Maybe its dumb"​

---

 

[Doctor Jax]

Hanna Wojciek

Hanna simply stood out a whole mile in this dive. If she was honest, this wasn't the kind of place she'd frequent, preferring far smokier, far less classier venues, as that was the place you found the best music. Places where you could see the edges of your soul start to fray off into the atmosphere around you, right into the decaying brick and industrial piping and spoon fumes. But this would do, she guessed. She didn't order anything, no need while her charge was getting something herself.

Wes entered the bar, and Hanna grinned, standing up from the seat to walk towards him and meet him almost halfway.

"Aaaah, thanks, babydoll. Sorry for the short notice, but I think I can make it worth your while," Hanna said, giving him a tight hug before heading back to her seat. Leon slid a drink to Izzy, smelling of old blood--

F*CKING STEAL IT GRAB IT YOURS YOURS SHE'S WEAK SHE'S SMALL HAVE IT TAKE IT ALL YOURS SO THIRSTY LITTLE SLUT WHY WAIT​

-- and she winked at Leon, a lazy smile spreading across her face. The mantra played in her mind. Strength in numbers. We have strength in numbers. Locusts are feared because they are many. Funny, that what had been her father's Communist propaganda was often now her lifeline. Amelie walked in next. Ah, so it seemed they were having a little bit of a powwow, all her patrons and employees palling around. It was almost enough to make her proud. Her time wheeling and dealing, making friends in low places, seemed to be paying off for her.

"Pretty darn fancy, yeah. Not my taste - no offense, of course," Hanna admitted honestly, shrugging her shoulders as she leaned against the bar.

"Who's this, your boyfriend?"

"Depends on how badly he's screwed the pooch," Hanna joked with a wide grin. She shook her head, clarifying, "Nah, this is Wes. He works at Max. Don't you, buddy?"

She playfully squished his cheeks with one hand, forming a fishy face, with a devious look, before releasing him with a condescending little pat. Leaning back against the bar, the diminutive hippy looked to Izzy and her question, doing a commendable job not eyeing the empty glass. She had chosen not to imbibe for the night for a reason. She had other dinner plans. Hanna was a big believer in delayed gratification. At Izzy's question to fill in Wes, she nodded, watching Wes' reaction.

"Honestly, Iz, baby, I don't know if that's the smartest thing. See, problem being, you're the new kid on the block, and he can smell that," Hanna said. She'd long figured out whispering was as bad as shouting. Showed you were hiding something. "Instead..."

And a grin crossed her face.

"I'd ask him if there's anything new on the street. Tell him I'm looking to shop around for my... stock," Hanna said. "Unless, of course, our girl Amelie here wants to ask for us."

She looked at Amelie sweetly, batting her eyelashes coyly. Oh, if she could send someone else to do the work, especially someone not associated with her own little group of riffraff, that would be stupendous. Sure, she may get less credit, but there was also less risk. Her Caitiff friend here was vulnerable, and Wes was... well, Wes.

user //mentioned
user //@Kuno @Lillian Gray @Applo

 

[Lillian Gray]

CS Link

Wesley 'Wes' James Moore

"Ah, ywah, I worf- Ha-ah!" Wesley grumbled as pressed his cheeks together. He rolled his eyes when she finally released him, extending one arm towards the newcomer, the other rubbing his cheek. "Hi."

Turning to Leon, he scanned the back of the wall until he saw what he wanted. The bourbon. He gestured to it. "Old fashioned. Just keep 'em coming."

Wesley dropped his hand to the counter and drew circles over the faint outline of an old water stain as the new blood whispered in his ear. His attention instantly diverted from the chic punk woman to the scarred new blood. The faint breath of her's against his skin sent a pleasurable sensation down the back of his neck that would have been more distracting had he not been so damn annoyed he wasn't invited in the first place. It seemed half of damn Max knew, but only Hanna and Isabel showed up. Hell even one of the lunatic Malkavians deigned to make an appearance before Prince Washburn. Wesley's nail began to scrape against the bar top, a literal itch with curiosity. He scowled.

Catatonia? Black powder? His hazel eyes darted to Isabel's pockets, then Hanna's, finally shifting as far to the side as he dared, wondering who had the sample between the three women. Not that he was interested in taking it, oh no. Now he understood why there hadn't been an invitation on his doorstep. Wesley had his own opinions, strong ones at that, about the drug scene. Most of his childhood was wrapped up in the slums of Hollywood and he did well to keep it behind him.

To put it plainly, he wasn't a fan.

It would have just been easier to toss the damn bag into the harbor and be done with it, but what good was that when the Prince was on his knees asking for help? The Sheriff right alongside him handing out goody bags of death?

Hanna was right, this was juicy.

He slipped his tongue over his fangs, his scowl replaced with a smirk. Wesley was far more interested now that he was here in person. Maybe it was the present company whispering in his ear. Invite be damned, all was forgiven. Hanna and Isabel could fill him in over one of Leon's specials.

Wesley perked up once Hanna began to speak again.

"Amélie?" Wesley overheard Hanna say the name. "Ah - well, if Miss Amélie doesn't want to, I could always try to persuade him with my stunning looks and wit." He shrugged, chuckling with some unspoken jest. "I probably wouldn't be welcome back."

 

[Kuno]

Amélie

"Nothing for me."

Eighty years ago, animal instinct would have overruled all sense and torn Amélie's mind asunder in its mad pursuit of blood - fresh and old. At present, it merely raised its hackles and barked like a mad dog at the drink in front of Isabel. A hard yank of its figurative leash, and the savage within settled...for now.

The rocker stared at Isabel a beat too long before switching her attention to Hanna. Wes, huh? Why did that name sound so familiar?

"Aha. Another employee of yours. I should have known."

Amélie wished she'd had her favorite cigarette holder on hand. She would have taken a long drag then, followed by a distracting moment of her tongue flicking through a smoke ring. Anything to occupy her hands, really. At present, all she could do watch Isabel once more, her eyes lingering on the now empty glass of Bloody Mary. She turned away before she frightened the girl further, the metallic tang of blood lingering in her nose.

She hadn't noticed before, but a gaggle of kine remained in the lounge, pressed in at one of the corner tables. Amélie watched them with a slight frown. Though they were clearly engrossed in their own conversation, she wondered if their drunken ears would pick up more than she thought they could. Ultimately, her concern was for naught; the vampires were too busy discussing nonsense. Total, utter nonsense. She couldn't help herself.

"What? You haven't...Oh for God's sake-" A small laugh escaped her. "Why don't you draw straws next? Merde."

Hanna was right. Isabel was greener than the pieces of garnish wedged between her teeth. And though she knew nothing about Wes or what he was about, something told her his alleged charm would not work as well he thought - secretly she wanted to see him try, but she would not say so. Hanna herself could have done it, but she was too lackadaisical about things for her own liking. Maybe Leon would have been receptive. Maybe not.

If only Hanna hadn't ruined things by asking her. Old as she was, to be asked like that gnawed at her sides in an unpleasant way. Pride was an ugly beast of hers, and it showed in the hard edge in Amélie's eyes as she smiled thinly at them, specifically Hanna.

"Here. I'll ask. Happy?"

With a small shrug and tug, her fur coat came off, and she draped it over the chair next to Hanna. She might as well get comfortable if she was going to be wining and dining the owner. Well, perhaps not to that extent; "charming" was not within her caliber. Curt and to the point was more so her style. She would suss out some answers with as little theatrics as possible, and, God willing, Leon would not toss her out on her ass along with Hanna and the rest of her clique. Merde. The lengths she went to just to please some old bastards in the Camarilla.

Down at the other end of the bar, Leon busied himself with some menial task behind the counter. Amélie stalked him from the other side, and she leaned forward across the bar, leather sliding against wood.

"Hey. Listen…" She threw a lazy look in the human patrons' direction. Her voice drew down to a low murmur, as if worried about others hearing. "Drinks don't really do it for me these days. Dope, eh. Starting to feel like I've tried it all. Seen it all, tried it all."

Ugh. Small talk. Her fingers tugged lightly at the collar on her neck. She wanted to choke herself with it.

"Leon, I am looking to try something new. Something with a little more oomph to it, if you've got it." She cocked her head to the side. "Know what I mean?"

And if he didn't, she would not hesitate to make it painfully clear.

 

[Red Thunder]

​

Even without any real crowd in the place, Leon's Lounge had a pervasive murmur to it just beyond the hearing of kine or Kindred that raised the hackles on the neck, should one have the presence of mind to feel it; most didn't. It pressed on the psyche, weighing on it like a homicidal succubus, terrifying but seductive, a lure and an anchor. It drew in the unwary with the promise of a good time, but once within, it drove them to the alcohol, the forgetfulness it brought seemingly the only escape from its presence. For presence it was, and no one went upstairs.

When Amélie drew Leon's attention, even as she queried him, she became suddenly aware of the murmur within the Lounge. His eyes raised, shifting from the glass into which he'd been preparing Wesley's Old Fashioned to gaze into her own. The movement was slow, as if made with great effort, and the corners of Leon's mouth turned up amicably.

"I'm afraid," he breathed, nostrils flaring even as the smile embedded itself in his cheeks, "that you must have mistaken my establishment. This is a place of relaxation for those who need escape from white collar drudgery. This is hardly some- punk rathole dive."

Slime may as well have dripped from his lips as he said this, the final phrase clearly offensive for him to even say. His eyes shifted back to his task, finishing Wesley's drink with a small flourish.

"I'm frankly shocked to be asked that."

He paused, glancing back toward Amélie's group, before beginning another Bloody Mary. To Amelie's hearing, the murmur persisted.

∆∆∆​

"Damn! That's a pretty gnarly slice! What, a bear attack you or somethin'?"

At Izzy's elbow, a young man seemed to have suddenly appeared. Dressed properly as a valet, if a bit sloppily so, he was a scrawny fellow, and the tangle of dreadlocks on his head only served to make him look the skinnier. Marcus gazed at the mark without any regard for personal space, avoiding crossing that final threshold by refraining from touching it. He had fortunately remembered to speak at a reasonable level, and his comment merely drew a single, uninterested glance from the table of kine in the corner. He ignored it entirely.

"You guys are vamps, huh? Blade-style blood drinkers? Guess that scratch is permanent, yeah?"

He was close, so close to them, and the smell of his lifeblood was tantalizing. Yet he showed absolutely no fear, apparently as comfortable around them as a mouse around a satisfied cat.

 

[Lillian Gray]

CS Link

Wesley 'Wes' James Moore

While Isabel may not have even shared his bloodline, or even be on any sort of intimate level of closeness with the older Kindred, Wesley felt a distinct need to place himself somewhere between the ghoul's hand and her scarred eye. She was one of Hanna's, and so was Wes. That made them related in some perverted way. And blood watched out for blood.

He was a ghoul, Wesley thought, he had to be. Hazel eyes narrowed to examine the poorly dressed valet. He was thin with a head of dreadlocks that Wesley already decided he detested. They required such little maintenance and were so easy to get wrong, and sitting atop his head made him look top-heavy in his sloppy uniform. His presence so close to a group of Kindred was either brave or just plain stupid. The stranger didn't know how the scent of his lifeblood tempted Wesley or the others, especially when he was so close that he could see the individual pores on his skin. Repulsive. Enticing. A debacle.

Oh just do it sweet pea, just a little bite, then another. A sultry voice murmured in his ear. He's just one ghoul, and then that bastard prince- Her voice sharpened. -he'll know he should have invited you. Just do it baby doll, just one, FUCKING BITE. Then we won't be JEALOUS.

Wesley's face relaxed into a soft grin and he made a noise of polite amusement. He held up his hand near the man's chest and took one step forward, compelling the stranger to remove himself from the newblood's personal space while she sipped on her meal, doing his best to not touch his uniform. Wesley was very careful about where he stood, not wanting to obstruct Isabel from view on purpose, but keeping half of himself between her and the stranger.

"Scars do tend to be permanent, Kine or Kindred." Wesley smirked, the gleam of his fangs could barely be made out through the expression. "That's what makes it a scar."

Wesley shifted his weight to his opposite heel so he was standing in Isabel's blind spot. He crossed his arms and continued to grin at the man. Marcus. A flashy name tag said as much on his uniform.

"Marcus-" Wesley tried, hoping it was correct. He instinctually made use of his Auspex as he continued to speak, listening just as much to the room around him as the man before him. Was he going to lie? "-how do you like working at Leon's? Does he treat you well?"

 

[Doctor Jax]

Hanna Wojciek

Hanna shrugged her shoulders as Amelie reacted with incredulity that they hadn't decided a plan of action just yet. The former hippie tapped her fingers against the bar, looking around at the classiness of the establishment. She had meant to come in on a quick dip, then head out. She didn't want to linger too long, especially with sunrise no doubt on their heels. She didn't fancy calling in a favor to have someone with a tinted car pick them up from the back, where the alleys might shade them from the fatality of the sun.

It should have been worrisome, but by this point it was more frustrating than anything else.

She idly watched as Amelie began to speak with the bartender, cutting straight to the chase with little fanfare. Her shoulders hunched as she hid a smile, ducking her head while beating the tabletop softly with a fist. It was hard not to laugh at the other woman's hamfisted attempt to solicit drug info off of Leon, and the look he gave her could have peeled paint. Like none of these dudes had ever danced the danced, did the prance, to get the skinny on what was out and about.

Briefly, she noticed the kid coming to talk with Wes, coming up on them where Izzy couldn't see, and she noted with some gratification that Wes immediately put himself between the dark-skinned, dreadlocked fool and her charge.

"Don't let him blindside ya, sister, just follow Wes' lead," Hanna muttered in her ear as she clapped Izzy's shoulder, and she pushed off her seat to go and save Amelie the trouble of jamming her foot further down her throat.

The hippie slid over to stand at near Leon, watching him drum up another Bloody Mary. Her grin was playful, elfin features full of simple, good-natured mischief. There was an aura about her, subtle, a confidence.

"Hey, hey, is that for me? You shouldn't have... Aw, I'm playin', I know better than to pilfer freebies," Hanna began, folding her arms on the bar. Blue painted nails drummed the service lightly, and she murmured, "'ey, Amelie, your due to society's paid - we're even. I didn't think you'd actually, you know, do it, else I wouldn't have bet you, but I guess you do have balls after all..."

Hopefully that might smooth some ruffled feathers. Leon apparently really prided the reputation of his place being sterling. Amber eyes turned back to Leon, maintaining a casual familiarity.

"How's it been, man? Everything chill? Things've been hectic in my punk rathole dive--"

Said with a distinct air of amusement, a broad grin that clearly showed she enjoyed the moniker.

"-- and I thought I might like to visit something quieter, maybe get some decor ideas. That, and you know me. I'm a gossip whore."

user //mentioned
user //@Kuno @Lillian Gray @Applo @Red Thunder

 

[Applo]

---

Perched on her stool, Isabel watched Marcus with her mouth half hanging open. She had nearly jumped out of her skin when an unseen person had quite literally blindsided her by asking about her scar before mumbling near incoherent denials when the very human smelling person asked if they were vampires. The question had floored the youngest vampire, and she had struggled to answer for a few moments. Fortunately for everyone involved Wes literally stepped in and pushed Marcus away from her, answering the question smoothly and in a way that was coded enough that only those in the know would understand.

A slight pang of jealousy ran through Isabel at how easily and gracefully Wes dealt with the situation. It was made all the worse by Hanna whispering in her ear to follow the beautiful kindred's lead. She wanted to be slick like Wes or Hanna or Amélie. She was so tired of feeling out of her depth all night, every night. It felt like gym class had back in school. She never seemed to get better, only flail about and embarrass herself. The rational part of her mind told her the other kindred had been doing this so so much longer than she had and like Hanna had said it would get better with time. The part of her mind where the beast lived wanted her to give up on the charade of trying to appear human entirely.

How much easier life would be if she just took what she wanted and pounced on this annoying kid with stupid hair. If Wes tried to stop her he'd get a glass in the face and then nails. This Marcus was hers and hers alone to feed on. She could half drain them and be out the door before anyone would react. It would all be so easy. So justified. Hanna had said it herself; she'd never been too discerning. Blood had made the hippy strong. It would make Isabel strong. Blood was the answer. She just had to seize it. Take it. It was hers. Her blood. Her right. HERS!

The high-pitched sound of metal tapping on glass dispelled the violent fantasy playing out behind Isabel's solitary green eye. Looking over to where it came from she saw Leon working on her second Bloody Mary. The sight of the viscous red liquid was enough to give Isabel the strength to push the beast back into the darkest recesses of her soul and chain it there.

Once again in full control, or at least as much control as she ever had, Isabel was suddenly aware that Wes had just asked Marcus a question. It took the purple haired fledgling a few moments to remember what had been asked of the kid but when she did, it inspired other questions in her. Hanna had said to follow Wes's lead, so she would.

"You see any cool shit working here." One of Isabel's hands idly picked up her near drained glass while a finger from the other hand began running around its edge hunting for any of its precious cargo. "Do you get any crazies in here on busy nights?​

---

 

[Kuno]

Amélie

Leon seemed to take great offense at her straight forward question. There was a seething edge to his cordial tone; his words were made to cut, and cut they did. Surprisingly, Amélie took it in stride, albeit with some annoyance. She didn't actually get angry until she heard the murmuring.

It was an indiscernible noise, like the low hum of conversation amongst an assembly of people gathered together. It came suddenly; the heavy din of disembodied voices washed over those presently speaking and filled the room with ease. She made to turn and look about the area, before she caught herself, the sudden realization dawning on her. She knew then what had happened. She knew. She knew.

Amélie said nothing. Her skin had paled considerably, and the gibberish in the background only served to stoke the fire building within. She tilted forward, if only slightly; but as venomous words came to mind, Hanna sidled up alongside her. The petite woman murmured something in her ear, but it was distorted by the nonsensical voices in her head. She did, however, catch the tail end of what she said to Leon, and her eyes seized upon the offended party.

The murmuring continued on incessantly. As her hand came to rest somewhere near Hanna's arms, a palpable heat emanated from her skin. Her eyes cut towards the other woman, and she nodded slowly in agreement, turning once more to the lounge owner.

"Mm. Same for me, I suppose."

The words were uttered so coldly she may as well have been dead. Well. Dead dead.

"Heard some rumors about the place, so I came out of some...misplaced curiosity, I'm afraid. But t'inquiète...don't worry. I'll kill those rumors for you."

It was an olive branch; icily offered, yes, but an olive branch nonetheless. He was lucky she was there on the Prince's orders. When the intrusive noise continued to march on, her temper flared.

"Do you mind turning off the fucking noise?"

The tacked on bitch went unspoken.

 

[Red Thunder]

​

"Fine, yeah, he treats me fine, just fine."

Marcus eyed Wesley with a bit of trepidation that hadn't been there when he first approached, the kind of trepidation a person shows when a dog the first thought friendly bristles at them. To Wesley's Auspex-enhanced eye, the doorman was very obviously a Ghoul; the aura that surrounded him showed thin threads of vampiric Unlife swimming about the kid's own, fading imperceptibly slowly as Life reasserted itself. Should he look about the room, he'd see that the other erstwhile guests were indeed Kine, while Leon looked to be Kindred.

For his part, Marcus blinked hard a few times and smiled again, apparently comfortable once more.

"Leon's is great, man, no lie. There's some happening people that show up here, man, even when the other places are closed," he chuckled, shaking his head. "I tell ya; it's a good thing I dig the hours, 'cause I dunno Leon could manage all these bigwigs without me. Especially after last week, man. These mobster-lookin'-"

His eyes widened, and his mouth snapped shut. He coughed distractedly, the self-sure confidence gone.

"Anyway, I'll go see where Leon is with your drinks, huh?"

Eyes lowered, Marcus moved to go.
@Applo @Lillian Gray

∆∆∆​

At Hanna's approach, Leon had actually stiffened even more noticeably, if possible. The incredulous look he laid on her as she weaved her quickly conceived lie was by no means veiled. But he gave no indication besides of complaint or argument, and when Amélie confirmed the assertion with what amounted to an unspoken apology, he shrugged.

"Rumors are parasites, spreading from host to host. Convince enough people to disregard them, and they will die soon enough.

"Not that I would deny you gossip, Ms. Wojciek, seeing as you have crept from your cave to brave the moonlight." The corner of Leon's mouth turned up. He completed Izzy's second drink and set it down beside Wesley's. It would figure, of course, that the very two people from whom he'd made drinks were now in conversation with his valet. "Between us, I heard Salvatore is making a bid for the Astro World district. Surprising, for a Ventrue, given the area's narcotics probl-"

But Amélie's comment cut his exposition sharply, and he furrowed his brow at her.

"Noise? What are you-?" Comprehension dawned across his face. "Ah. Forgive me; you must be Camarilla. A pleasant deterrent for any Anarch to have, I think. Particularly given the haughty nature the Prince's subjects tend to have."

He sneered before placing his hand on the underside of the bar top and making some movement or gesture. Immediately, the murmuring ceased to Amélie's hearing, returning to the dull level just beyond hearing.

"Thank Ms. Wojciek for this boon. The Camarilla are as a rule unwelcome, and only your association tonight keeps you from the same."
@Doctor Jax @Kuno

 

[Kuno]

Amélie

Amélie's eyes just about rolled out of her skull.

"Well isn't that cute," She replied. Her words dripped with condescension. "Don't hurt yourself with all that hospitality, now."

She was edging dangerously close towards all-out open hostility. The noise had dissipated, thank God, but Leon continued to stoke her ire with his petty antics, and the Tremere vampire was quickly forgetting her own tenets of decorum. Nothing but the Prince's assignment kept her in place, but even then...Well. Let's just say there was a limit to the woman's curiosity. Her toes had been stepped on, and she was itching to go.

Could she leave on a civil note? Maybe. Mustering up the dregs of her manners, her eyes swiveled back to Leon's smug face, back to looking at his needle thin, limp excuse of a mustache.

"The Camarilla are as a rule unwelcome."

She smiled coldly.

Yeah. That's all he was getting from her.. Hanna could get the info from Leon about Salvatore since the old fart was so intent on sticking it to the Man. She did not deign to give Leon any more of her attention. Ignoring the irksome presence behind the bar, she looped an arm around Hanna's shoulders and pulled her in for a side hug.

"Dunno about you, but I'm headed out. This place is a drag," Amélie sighed. She leaned down, giving the petite woman a quick kiss on the cheek. "Au revoir. We'll chat later."

At the other end of the bar, Wes and Isabel were wrapped up in conversation with a dreadlocked man. As he stepped away, Amélie stepped in, showing an uncharacteristic familiarity towards the Neonate as she came close.

"I'm leaving. Isabel, it was a pleasure to meet you." She kissed the woman lightly on the cheek before turning to the handsome blonde, repeating the action automatically.

"Same for you. Good night, Wes."

She hauled her fur coat off the seat besides Isabel and put it on with a flourish. There was a ghost of a smile on her lips as she glanced back at the duo.

"Stay safe, you two."

 

[Lillian Gray]

Collaboration with:
@Red Thunder
@Kuno
@Applo

CS Link

Wesley 'Wes' James Moore

Wesley smiled with charm, being careful as he reached out to place a hand on Marcus' shoulder to stop him from leaving. Something still felt off. A little strange. Mobsters? That was certainly something interesting, and Wesley was naturally curious as to what the valet was speaking of.

"Please, Marcus, why don't you stay hm?" He asked sweetly. His grip wasn't tight, but there was a certain air of demand which threatened Marcus not to take another step away from him. Wesley wondered if he'd tell him outright, or if he'd need to use more of his blood to charm the young man into behaving. "I don't mind waiting for my drink, not when the conversation is good."

From across the bar, Amélie left the company of Leon and Hanna and turned their way with an icy stare. Wesley automatically turned, lips kissing both sides of her face before smiling with an idea.

"Wait, Mademoiselle Amélie, are you going so soon? Marcus was about to tell us a delightfully delicious story about some mobsters. Sounds fun. Non?"

Marcus, still in the act of moving toward Leon, stopped dead in his tracks when Wesley touched his shoulder. Amélie, having left the bar owner and Hanna behind in favor of joining the others, or at the least to bid them farewell, might notice a distinctly pale pallor previously absent. A shiver ran up his spine, and he began to sweat aggressively.

"I- uh, I didn't say mobsters, man; j-just that they looked it." Should any Kindred eye the valet through Auspex, they'd see lines of panic through his aura. Still he faced away from them, apparently not wanting to look Wesley in the face.

Slowly and delicately, Isabel reached out and pushed upwards on Wes' arm to break the older kindreds grip on Marcus's shoulder. She could tell how spooked the valet was. It didn't take a kindred to spot the signs, just someone who was all too familiar with feeling like a rabbit surrounded by wolves.

"Sorry about Wes, its uh you know a vamp- kindred thing you know, finding things out and stuff. It's like an obsession and its ummm worse for him cause he's a writer. He just has to know how every story ends." Isabel wasn't sure about the quality of the lie she was spinning but she was pleased with how it sounded. It sounded kinda plausible. Hopefully plausible enough that Marcus would believe it and not think more of their attempts to get stories out of him. "He's crap company for watching a film on tape; you go to make pop...sicles outta the freezer and he fast forwarded to the end."

Wesley turned, obeying the gentle hand on his arm and taking a step back from Marcus. His eyes narrowed slightly, but the grin remained plastered on his face. It was well practiced and warm, yet still held an air of duplicity at a second glance. Like something wasn't right. He slid his arm around Isabel's back and broke his transfixion on Marcus, disappointed he had pushed too far and gotten nothing in return.

He should've known better.

"Right." Wesley hummed. A decent lie. Nothing he couldn't follow along with, so long as the new blood felt like trying her hand at talking to the ghoul. "Sorry Marcus, been a while since I heard a good story. Actual gossip tends to be mostly unfounded. Exciting to listen to, but not very interesting at the heart of the matter."

"Marcus. Darling."

The French woman remained poised by the bar counter. There was an air of impatience about her as she cut in tersely, her eyes seizing on the young man. Somehow she'd taken Wes's bait and remained, curiosity overriding all common sense. The mention of mobsters had had the wheels spinning in her head. She thought about the preventative measures Leon had put in place at the lounge, and she stared unintentionally at the ghoul.

Could it be that someone as likeable as Leon had more enemies than she thought? Impossible. She simply couldn't fathom it.

Biting sarcasm aside, she could tell the boy was scared out of his wits. Whatever Wes was asking about had spooked him, and continuing to badger him for information would get them nowhere.

"Can you do me a favor?"Amélie asked, jerking a manicured thumb towards the end of the bar. "Their drinks. Can you bring them to us? Please?"

Marcus had finally turned to face those speaking to him, though his eyes never strayed to Wesley's. As Isabel offered apology, and Wesley verified it, he nodded minutely, still tight-lipped. His brow still glistened with anxiety, but his breath now came more evenly.

"Drinks?" he replied to Amélie, clearly still recovering his wits. "Drinks- oh! Yeah, erm. Definitely."

"And, er, maybe I'll come back with a story, too, yeah?"

He looked from the rocker-chick to Isabel and back, then finally to the Toreador, to whom unnatural feelings of predisposition had begun to take hold, and he gave the smile of a scared kid enticed with a lollipop and a puppy.

But now was not the time to linger, or not at least this second. Leon had trained him in his position well, and Marcus took Amélie's hint. Cautiously, he shifted around the Kindred gathered there and eased toward Leon and Hanna, where he waited patiently for Leon to notice him. Occasionally, he'd throw a glance back, likely trying to gauge whether the secret meeting of the three Kindred had come to a close.

Wesley turned to Amélie, letting his power fade into the background as he addressed her. Something the man at the bar, Leon, had said had the hairs on her arms bristling. Whether or not she knew it, her brow was at an ever so crooked angle, hinting at her annoyance. Or, Wesley thought, maybe annoyance wasn't strong enough of a word. She seemed downright pissed off about something.

"I'm glad you decided to join us." Wesley smirked. He extended a hand to officially introduce himself, "Wesley Moore. You're Amélie, hm? I've seen you around, you sing. Well."

Amélie stared at the hand outstretched towards her. Frowning, she took the man's hand in her own and shook it firmly, her skin ice cold to the touch.

"Thank you," She replied stiffly. "I am Amélie Dupuis."

It was not lost on her how well he pronounced her name, or the bits of French he'd used early on. She cocked her head to the side. "You are...you speak a little French?"

"Oui." Wesley grinned, quickly changing from English to French. "My mother was French, before all of this. But, what do you do, hm?" He crossed his arms, shrugged, before saying something that sounded an awful lot like flirting no matter how you broke it apart. It was directed at Amélie.

The French woman's head tilted ever so slightly. Whatever Wes had said managed to soften the frown on her face, and before long she was responding, her words quick and light. There was the hint of a smile on her lips.

Wesley paused, as if lost in thought. He quickly recovered, leaning over the short table with a cocky smile as he winked at Amélie. Maybe she'd find him cheeky. He was still a Toreador, after all.

"Ummmm…" Seizing on a pause in the babble of french between the two old kindred, Isabel tried to swing the conversation back into a language she could understand more than five words of. She felt like enough of a spare part tonight already without Wes trying to get off with a woman he'd just met. "So what do we do now? Do you think he's gonna tell us anything?"

"Hm? Oh, sorry sweetheart." Wesley smiled sheepishly at the new blood, Isabel. "I'm not sure. I don't think he likes me very much."

"Maybe. I think he's just scared to talk about it," Amélie answered evenly. She settled into the seat next to Isabel, eyes panning over to where Marcus waited for their drinks.

"Why don't you talk to him, Isabel? You might draw him out of his shell…"

"I can, uh try I guess? I dunno maybe we-"

As if on cue, Marcus seemed to almost materialize at their backs, drinks in hand. He handed the Bloody Mary to Isabel and the Old Fashioned to Wesley before turning to Amélie with a sheepish look.

"You didn't ask for a drink, so I wasn't sure what to get you." He shrugged apologetically. "Sorry.

"But-" Clearing his throat, he dropped his voice, casting an uncertain eye Leon's direction. "You, uh, you wanted to know about the special visitors I mentioned? Er, Mr. Wesley? What'd you wanna know?"

"Umm… you said they were mobsters." Using both hands, the fledgling held her new drink just against her chin savoring the rich metallic smell. "Why were they here? What happened? Did they threaten to feed anyone to the fishes?"

As Isabel heard her last question a wave of embarrassment about how stupid she sounded crashed over her and she hastily took a large sip of her drink to hide her gaze from everyone else; it was several long awkward seconds before the new blood lowered her glass again and even then her eyes avoided Marcus's.

"Sorry, I don't get out much now. Ah watch a dumb amount of tv."

Secret French

"And I lied, you have a lovely voice. If you sang something a little smoother… now that'd be more my taste. Ever consider jazz?"

"Ah, yes. I have sung jazz before, I think. Many years ago in New York." Amélie looked different as she spoke her mother tongue. Softer, even. "It was more popular then...not anymore. So I went to the next best thing."

She still had her coat on. Amélie recalled vaguely that she was supposed to be storming out just about now - to hell with Leon and his dirty lounge - but something caused her to linger, her features warming ever so slightly as she met Wesley's eyes.

"You have heard me sing? How come I've never seen you before?"

"You're a difficult woman to meet. Popular. I am not. But, here we are. Finally face to face, far too early in the morning, wondering if the valet will tell us about his new friends or not." Wesley uncrossed his arms, opting to shove his hands in his pockets instead. Why hadn't they met? Hanna seemed to know Amélie well enough, had she been around the bar before? He couldn't recall.

"The next time I see you, I will say hello. Hm?"

 

[Doctor Jax]

Anarchy, Together​

@Doctor Jax and @Red Thunder​

"As I was saying," Leon breathed, eyeing the retreating form of Amélie with a mixture of vague contempt and deep disappointment, "Salvatore is stretching his claws. Haven't you heard?"

Hanna, who gave a surprisingly warm embrace to Amélie as she left, returning the kisses to the cheek with candor, pulled a pair of almost golden eyes back to Leon. She leaned against the bar with a cock of her head, eyebrows slightly furrowed.

He paused, giving a hard look at the drinks he had made the others on request, as if unsure of their quality. Pulling a vial from within his waistcoat, he released a single drop of it into each drink: blood plasma, by the smell. Nodding in professional satisfaction, he replaced the bottle.

"The Sewer Rats are getting greedy."

Hanna tapped her fingernails against the bar.

"You know - I was wondering about that. They're a little more bold than usual."

She often worked with the ugliest of their kind, and now the suddenly-tense negotiations with them started to make some more sense. She had been having to pull teeth - and rank - with some of the Nosferatu who peddled her the human supply necessary to keep her bar running on its specialty drinks. She couldn't just grab blood plasma the way Leon did to draw customers in - she sold something far more rare.

Tainted blood. Drugged blood. Addict blood, at the moment of climaxing high.

"I hadn't realized, though, that they've started to branch out. Usually, they keep to themselves. Is it that they're getting antsy over something? That's not really like them," Hanna stated.

"It's hard to say. They peddle in secrets, of course, so the truth is rarely forthcoming."

Leon's focus shifted right toward the other Kindred gathered. His eyes followed Marcus closely as he approached his master, and the Ghoul glanced over his shoulder. He never spoke up, but remained standing silently, waiting to be addressed.

The bar owner ignored him, save for the glance he'd already given him.

"But maybe the truth is not so difficult to determine. The kine's sports arenas are havens for the narcotics industry, especially during their off seasons." Leon clicked his tongue. "Or so I'm told. Yet, I've been generously forthcoming, my dear. As with the Sewer Rats, secrets trade for secrets. What gossip might you have?"

He gave a toothy grin, most unbecoming of his hitherto well-to-do persona.

She knew she wasn't about to get a free drink, as it were. And she was always prepared for these kinds of eventualities. Knowledge was power, and among the Anarchs, staying a step ahead of the Camarilla was important. And… besides, maybe they could help each other out.

"I think… our glorious leader around here is meeting up with someone awfully shiny," Hanna stated, toying with a dirty glass. "Snooping around a bit, and you know what, I just… happened to see someone get off a boat walking towards this dude's car. I was thinking to myself, 'why in the world would someone come in to Houston by boat, when there's a perfectly good plane out there that can do it in a few hours from anywhere.' So - Kindred, probably, from a long way away," Hanna said in a low voice. "Might be worth looking into. Maybe he owes a debt, maybe they're reinforcements, heck, maybe they've got a whole conspiracy on us independent folk."

She shrugged her shoulders.

"I definitely don't know. I'm just a bar owner in a dive,"she said with a growing, charismatic grin.

Eyebrows raised and smile gone, Leon gave the slow nod of a head bow. Clearly, he'd not been expecting this. Clearing his throat, he tapped the counter beside the drinks. Marcus snapped to, taking both drinks in his hands before rejoining his earlier companions.

"Interesting. The winds of the city are shifting.

"And so, maybe, are allegiances. It has not escaped my notice that three Anarchs have taken up with a boot-licker on some common purpose." The smile returned, though now it had only taken up residence in one corner of his mouth. He gestured toward her conservatively. "I produced, and then you in turn. It is now your turn, in show of good faith. Tell me: what would the Prince want with you and your- friends."

Leon was no idiot, and she knew that coming in. It would've been an insult to his intelligence, and the man did have his own connections that could be… useful. But, she wasn't ready to completely unveil every secret.

"Honestly, baby, your guess is as good as mine. He asked us a favor, sent us off on our merry way to nowhere. He pegged you first as someone to ask, and I figured, why not pay you a social visit while I was at it?" Hanna said, mixing truth with some easy omission. "But you're right. City's shifting. You know if you ever need it, my door's open."

And she did mean it. Strength in numbers. But each man helps himself.

"If you start hearing the rumblings of something weird and not at all nice, gimme a shout. You know where to find me," Hanna said with a smile, rapping the bar. "We'll get out of your hair."

His smile deepened.

"Ah. Yet you have given more information. And I shall repay in kind."

 

[Red Thunder]

​

At Isabel's inquiry, Marcus' eyes sparkled, and he laughed.

"If they was gonna, this is definitely the city for it. What with the harbor and sh- uh, stuff."

The tension and fear readily evident in the kid previously was entirely absent at this point, likely by some natural inclination toward the amiable, an obvious friendliness toward the Thinblood in particular, and the freedom from terror Wesley's Discipline had evidently worked on him. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his loose uniform, and dull smile on his face.

"Anyways, yeah: they looked like mobsters. The suits, the hats, all of it. Maybe ... I dunno, four or five of 'em? They came in to talk to Leon. I didn't hear much; boss told me to leave, so I did." A truly wicked grin stretched his lips, and he gave a subtle glance toward Leon that spoke to long practice at clandestine inquisition. He lowered his voice conspiratorially. "They went upstairs. I followed them ... to the door, anyway. Listened through."

The atmosphere began to feel more claustrophobic, though without direct physical or mental oppression. The ambiance of the bar, until now the dull murmur of quiet conversation between groups who wish their topic to remain private, had died, and the Kindred about Marcus would be aware of it suddenly, as if it had changed while they were unaware of it. All that broke through was the deep tick tock of a small mechanical clock on the wall behind the counter-top, and of course, Marcus' story. The kine at the table some distance away seemed frozen.

"They wanted to know about the Veil, they said. About the border between life and death." Marcus looked once more to Leon, and sweat gathered on his brow. "These mobsters had some bonkers accents, too. Sounded ... I dunno, man, but it wasn't American.

"But the craziest thing: they asked about crossing the Veil while you're asleep. Like, dunno if they wanted to join the ghosts or what, man."

Marcus paused, considering, then took a deep breath.

"After that, Leon opened the door up, and I got caught. Had to spend the next three nights in the closet, man. Not great, but that's what I get for being nosy." He paused again, blinking. "Anyway, ya'll need any more drinks?"

@Lillian Gray @Applo @Kuno

∆∆∆
​

Hanna didn't immediately leave. Given Leon's suggestion of further information, maybe it wasn't so odd. Knowledge, after all, was power. Especially in these modern nights.

"A little birdie told me," he started, the shadow of a smile pulling at his cheek, "that the drifters are more numerous than they have been in earlier nights. Hobos on trains, stowaways on cargo ships, runaways on Greyhounds. Even travelers on bicycles and hitchhikers in sedans. They've been showing up in the city in larger numbers than have been seen in a few decades.

"Ah, but maybe you haven't seen a larger homeless population. I wouldn't blame you; I haven't either." He pulled a shot glass from a shelf and examined it. "Interesting, that the rats gather but show no sign of lingering."

Turning, Leon reached to the top of his display and retrieved a bottle of green-ish glass that bore an aged label marked Pure Pot Still Whiskey. He filled the shot glass to half before topping it off with two drops of the pure plasma from the vial within his vest.

"It's been some nights since I've last had such an entertaining guest. On the house, bellissima. It's been a pleasure."

@Doctor Jax

From the separate table came the sounds of chair legs on flooring. The kine, six of them, youngish men looking various degrees of intoxicated, were standing up from their table and moving toward the exit as best their staggering strides would allow them.

 

[Doctor Jax]

Hanna Wojciek

If she had a heart, it would be pounding.

She loved to get new information, and she had gotten a whole slew of incredibly juicy tidbits this evening. The Nosferatu were getting stingy, starting to move in. Narcotics was busy, and Astro was getting crowded. Did that mean there were more Nosferatu proliferating? Sired without the consent of their dear Prince, dealing a nasty drug that put Kindred right to sleep? Hard to say. But she was going to chew over it.

She was going to work at it like a pitbull on a bone. Suck that marrow dry. Squeeze until blood dripped out, to lap up.

Leon's generosity was not taken for granted. She knew that this was a big deal, that he was offering yet more information. Trust amongst their kind was hard to win - and even if this were a lie, it was still telling. She would keep on her toes, but that didn't mean she wasn't open to listening.

"A little birdie told me that the drifters are more numerous than they have been in earlier nights. Hobos on trains, stowaways on cargo ships, runaways on Greyhounds. Even travelers on bicycles and hitchhikers in sedans. They've been showing up in the city in larger numbers than have been seen in a few decades," Leon said with conspiracy in his tone, and Hanna nodded along.

"Ah, but maybe you haven't seen a larger homeless population. I wouldn't blame you; I haven't either." He pulled a shot glass from a shelf and examined it. "Interesting, that the rats gather but show no sign of lingering."

"Real, real interesting," she hummed.

She thought on it. The Uglies expanding their territory. The homeless coming in droves - but not staying, not showing their presence in the subway stations, the alleyways, beneath the bridges. Attracted by some siren call, more than likely spread mouth to mouth like a fetid kiss, a promise of something perhaps. It looked like she was going to be paying them a visit. Her interest was piqued, and she could always go under the guise of finding some new addict.

Yeah - finding a new addict. A new drug to get high off of. A means of testing out this new 'thing'.

Leon poured her a shot of something old, dropping in a single tap of blood plasma. The Beast roiled against its chains in an emotional wave, but she contained it with practice, a steel will. She took the glass and raised it in salute.

"Na Zdrowie," Hanna stated, a Polish toast, and she knocked back the liquor. The harsh bite of alcohol did little to affect her, but that little added drop - Mmm. Heaven. It almost felt like actually drinking again. "Thank you, Leon. Try not to be a stranger, eh?"

She rapped the bar lightly with her shot glass, giving a little finger wave. Walking over to her compatriots, she grabbed her bright yellow rainslicker, noting the peculiar air around the trio. Leon's henchman - Markie Mark? Mork? Whatever - seemed excited. Behind her, she could hear revelers getting ready to leave. Sunrise was not long off, and riding in a convertible in daylight was a stylish death, but not one she was interested in at the moment.

"Ay, kiddos, we ready to go?" Hanna asked.

XXX //mentioned
@Lillian Gray @Applo @Red Thunder// Current Company

 

[Lillian Gray]

Obligatory Reference:
Dude, Where's My Car?

CS Link

Wesley 'Wes' James Moore

"Kiddos, you wound me. I'm older than you are." Wesley grinned coyly at Hanna, but, he did move towards the door after doubling back to down his drink. He threw a few twenties on the table as payment before tossing in a hundred on top for whatever it was Hanna learned. Soothed by the subtle addition of the plasma, Wesley felt better about leaving now. Before walking out the door, he made sure to tuck a decent tip right into Marcus' front pocket, winking in appreciation. when he stepped out onto the sidewalk he was expecting to see something. Preferably his own car.

Only the see, well...

Nothing.

He took the keys from his pocket, hitting the car locks twice. Still nothing. It wasn't a trick of the eye. Wesley remembered very clearly parking right up on the curb, not locking the doors, as was his usual manner. No one in their right mind would steal such a flashy car. Besides, he never left it uncovered. If someone wanted to hop into the driver's seat they very well could. It was a goddamn convertible after all. It was almost too obvious a target.

Apparently he was wrong.

A crystal clear voice murmured sweetly in his ear. Find them. Find the fuckers who stole you're car, rip out their throats and--

Wesley cleared his throat, silencing the sugar sweet voice he knew as the Beast, and drummed his heel against the pavement impatiently. He knew better than to expect the car to magically appear before him if he tapped his heels together and wished the magic words, there's no car like the green machine, there's no car like the green machine. That was all Hollywood, honey. Special effects and a bit of prop magic wouldn't bring his car back in the next five minutes. Not his car anyways.

The Toreador closed his eyes. A dark smile spread across his face. He scoffed once, twice, before muttering darkly to the company around him, "Someone has a death wish. They just don't know it yet."

That's right honey, that's your car. We don't like it when people steal from us, hm, baby?

Wesley tried to keep the thoughts at bay, but, no. Why? He was pissed. Beastie was right. Someone was going to die. He wanted to rip their throats out. That was his car. That was his property. And you know what? Wesley didn't like being toyed with by someone he didn't know all that well. It was vanity making sure its grubby claws were still at the heart of Wesley's matters. Mess with Wesley's things? Dead. Because it's mine.

Mine. The resonating thought wouldn't clear his thoughts. Mine, mine, mine.

"Well, Hanna. I guess we part ways here. I can call you a cab, since this was my fault." Wesley pulled his cell phone from his pocket, seemingly unperturbed on the surface by current events as he searched his contacts for a Kindred friendly ride. Maybe Hanna could tell, she'd always been good at figuring him out. "So sorry about this, lovie, I'll try to be back before sun up. Hm?"

 

[Applo]

---

While Wes knocked back the rest of his drink and headed for the doors almost immediately, Isabel stayed firmly in her seat, sipping at her drink. Partly this was because the beverage Leon had made for her was too thick to just be thrown into her mouth and partly because it came in a tall glass. Mostly though, Isabel didn't move because she didn't want to. Just at that moment she felt an incredibly pleasurable sense of peace. The hint of blood in the drink was enough to calm the beast into a stupor that left Isabel's mind almost entirely her own. She almost felt human.

The rational part of the fledglings mind knew she was barely consuming a few drops of the liquid that dominated her unlife; that as almost as soon as she emptied this glass the thirst would come back with a vengeance; that this was just a moment of respite in a never ending storm. Isabel knew all of this and so she sipped as slowly as she dared, stretching the drink as far as possible. By the time Isabel finally put her glass down and made to follow Wes the vessel looked as if it had been licked clean; which in fact, after a few furtive glances around the bar by Isabel, it had.

The thin-blood was halfway to the door, halfway to making a decent exit when she glanced at Marcus and suddenly felt guilty. She hadn't lied to the ghoul; she did watch a dumb amount of TV and was starved for intriuge, or at lest she had been till tonight but the manipulation made her feel just a bit shitty. Yes, she was pretty sure Wes had slipped the kid some cash for their trouble, to her mind she owed Marcus something too. It took her a few moments to workout exactly what she could offer the ghoul in repayment for what he had shared.

"Hey Marcus," Tapping the valet on the shoulder to get his attention, Isabel carried on in a half whisper."I just wanted to say thanks for the stories man, so I got one for you. You asked about my eye earlier, it was when I was tur- umm baptised. I tried fighting what was happening so the guy, you know." Splayed fingers raked gently along the scar patterns."It's pretty much the last thing I remember before umm all this."

Not waiting for a response from the ghoul, Isabel dashed for doors, out onto the street, and, stepping around the kine lurking on the street outside of Leon's, made her way over to where the others were standing.

"Where's our ugly ass ride home Wes?"​

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