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Blood in the Water
It was a strange kind of music, standing where the crowded city streets met the open air of the shoreline. Usually Danny found himself most at home in that twilight space, the bizarre duality of peace and chaos never settling fully on one or the other. Tonight neither the crash of waves and wind, nor the drone of vehicles and voices, could break through the deafening sound in the alley to his right, just behind his usual haunt.
Tick. Tap. Plop.
Blood in the Water was the peak of night life offerings in this coastal city. A bar turned denizens-of-the-nightclub on the very edge of the city's hold on civilization. The music just barely reverberated beyond the dense brick walls, splattered with graffiti, erupting into the softer nocturnal city soundtrack each time a door opened, only to be shuttered away again the next time the doors swung shut.
Tick. Tap. Plop.
Danny's hand went to his mouth as he felt his stomach lurch. The neon lights rippled on the ground, reflections tinged a rosy hue in the thick, wet pool in front of him. Red trailed down toward the drain until it met water, spreading and dissipating into tendrils through the clearer run off from the afternoon's rain.
People claimed sharks could smell a single drop from a mile away, and this city was full of them. The thump of music drowned out the steady drip, tugging Danny's attention from the limp mass awkwardly draped across the bench to the sudden pulse of lights inside the den of iniquity.
Stepping over the pool of tacky, less than fresh blood, Danny slipped a pill bottle from his shirt pocket and tossed a small handful of the tiny capsules back. He could wash it down with a drink once he got behind the bar. Pushing the imagery out of his mind, he relieved his coworker and washed the pills down with a tall glass of something clear and smooth, his eyes scanning for anyone who didn't already have a glass in front of them. His hands, just slightly unsteady, lifted a glass from the clean stack and he let his background thoughts fade into the music
"Warm or cold?" His voice was easy-going, volume trained just loud enough to be heard. The bar catered to all tastes. No questions asked or records kept.
Tick. Tap. Plop.
Blood in the Water was the peak of night life offerings in this coastal city. A bar turned denizens-of-the-nightclub on the very edge of the city's hold on civilization. The music just barely reverberated beyond the dense brick walls, splattered with graffiti, erupting into the softer nocturnal city soundtrack each time a door opened, only to be shuttered away again the next time the doors swung shut.
Tick. Tap. Plop.
Danny's hand went to his mouth as he felt his stomach lurch. The neon lights rippled on the ground, reflections tinged a rosy hue in the thick, wet pool in front of him. Red trailed down toward the drain until it met water, spreading and dissipating into tendrils through the clearer run off from the afternoon's rain.
People claimed sharks could smell a single drop from a mile away, and this city was full of them. The thump of music drowned out the steady drip, tugging Danny's attention from the limp mass awkwardly draped across the bench to the sudden pulse of lights inside the den of iniquity.
Stepping over the pool of tacky, less than fresh blood, Danny slipped a pill bottle from his shirt pocket and tossed a small handful of the tiny capsules back. He could wash it down with a drink once he got behind the bar. Pushing the imagery out of his mind, he relieved his coworker and washed the pills down with a tall glass of something clear and smooth, his eyes scanning for anyone who didn't already have a glass in front of them. His hands, just slightly unsteady, lifted a glass from the clean stack and he let his background thoughts fade into the music
"Warm or cold?" His voice was easy-going, volume trained just loud enough to be heard. The bar catered to all tastes. No questions asked or records kept.
no subject
granted, the bar here could work wonders when it came to their cocktails, which was half the reason he'd brave the crowds (less than ideal, truthfully, for someone trying to keep a low profile) when there were plenty of smaller, quieter options. )
Though it's really no trouble.
( his glass was still half full. )
no subject
The pills were starting to do their job, and Danny's unease ebbed away with the pleasant hazy tide settling over his mind. The face was just familiar enough, one he must have seen before, even if his habits didn't do his memory many favors. His fingers twitched with the urge to snap, searching for an 'a-ha' moment.
It didn't come, so Danny leaned on the bar instead, staring out at the crowd. His voice fell lower, conversational. )
Haven't had many of you drop in lately. ( The city-wide protests and outbreak of violence, on both sides, likely to blame. This was one of the more accepting
fearful?cities when it came to the more recently visible preternatural populations.Flickered images of a pale body lit with neon lights flashed through his mind, and he straightened, grabbing a glass to clean and occupy his hands. Too much blood to have been someone's post-bar snack. A fight earlier in the night, maybe. He rolled it out of his mind, the mental act accompanied by a roll of his bad shoulder. )
That kind of quiet is bad for business. Started thinking we weren't the night-life hub anymore.
no subject
Kids these days, ( the glass is tilted back, and ben takes a generous pull of the liquid inside, eyes falling shut briefly as it hits the back of his throat.
it was fresh, then ㅡ or as fresh as you could get without going straight for the vein. rare. a tongue darts out to catch any lingering drops, brows lifting as his attention shifts away from the drink and back to danny, taking his measure, )
no accounting for taste.
( ben could only speculate, of course, as to what precisely drew the younger vampires away from places like this, having stepped outside of those circles some decades ago.
the newer generations were likely as baffling to him as they were to danny himself. that strange, unknowable breed that spent too much time watching twilight and not enough time reading stoker. )
no subject
This man could be older than Danny by decades, even centuries. There would be no way of knowing at a glance. He didn't stick out like the younger crowd. They took pride in their newfound exposure, flaunted themselves to the world with that arrogant attitude only teenagers and young adults so easily lived in. They didn't blend into the crowd or the dark corners and their eyes weren't as sharp as this man's.
Like a cobra. The bartender mused, setting the now polished glass aside. The kind of gaze he could see someone getting frozen in. )
They don't know what they're missing. ( Confidence and a smirk. The pills were doing their job to steady his hands and his nerves. He wasn't wrong, though. The nightclub was owned by one of them. She catered so well because she knew which alleys their tastes drifted down. It was a bar before things came to light. She was just adapting the place with times. Really a gorgeous, clever woman.
Danny had taken her rejection a little rough, but that was years in the past now, and she had done him a favor getting his family off his back by pulling him out of their debt. Continuing to be a master of mixing cocktails for her club was the least he could do. )
Just don't let that group by the booths catch what you're drinking. Or do. I'm not here to judge either way. ( He nodded toward a gaggle of young adults happily downing drinks between bouts of laughter. Vampire groupies, or junkies depending on how you viewed it. They cased the place for bold and thirsty vampires to fulfill their need for the adrenaline rush of defying death. Some probably hoped to be turned, others just seemed to really enjoy getting bitten, or thought they would. )
Tall, mysterious, good-looking. They would eat you alive.
no subject
ben snorts, amused. the glass clinks softly as he tips it back again, striking the enamel of his teeth — still a perfectly respectable line of gleaming white, not a fang in sight. )
I doubt I'd be to their taste.
( an encompassing gesture, )
Too little leather, too much flannel.
( the only exception being the heavy jacket flung behind his seat, well-worn and loved. squint your eyes and ignore the too-pale skin and you'd almost mistake him for a normal man.
the glass is set down on the bar top and ben pins danny with an assessing look. )
What about you? Don't tell me your thrill chasing days are behind you?
no subject
He wanted to be where people were, enjoy too much alcohol, drugs that he had no business touching, sex, anything that helped him feel alive and made him forget the past for a little while.
It just wasn't as obvious with him as with the crowds he slid into. Not with the way Danny moved and talked. He gave off the air of a lazy cat lounging in the sun, unafraid and unbothered by much of anything. At least until his mind drifted backwards and time stopped existing in a linear fashion. Sooner or later his ghost always found him, and she would never let him forget. He would never let himself forget through her memory. )
I prefer somethin' more- open air. ( He couldn't say he preferred the older crowd with any honesty. People more his age were usually incredibly dull. )
You ever been to On The Docks? ( Danny's day job, working as a part-time chef at the restaurant that should have been his but never would be. After he asks it sinks in that it might seem ridiculous, asking a man of his particular tastes if he ever visited a restaurant, but Danny really didn't know that much about vampires. He only had cobbled hearsay mixed with varied fiction-based lore to base his guesses off of. )
They throw one hell of a party Thursdays after the sun goes down.
no subject
the clutch of groupies continue to giggle uproariously, and ben wonders how long it will be before one of them tries to risk the bar, and whether or not it would be worth putting danny's suspicion to the test. )
Don't do much eating these days, admittedly, but I do miss it.
( good food and good sex was what made life worth living. and, while it had been awhile since he'd taken a meal for the sheer hell of it, it was a pleasure he hadn't forgotten. )