Claims Glamours and Laws oh my


A Monday night is not the busiest of nights for a bar, but it is also when waitresses are more likely to score a night off. Rather than stay away from the bars, underaged Mellie has decided to try hitting up a different one. Stepping inside this particular establishment, the teen hovers on the threshold for a beat, before committing and moving deeper within. She eyes the bar, but then opts instead for one of the couches, angling over towards it before sinking into it, arranging herself in a somewhat provocative pose. Now to find someone to buy her a drink, usually an easier task than trying to convince the bartender whose job relies on not plying the youngsters with booze.

Sometimes, finishing the day off with a cocktail is just what a man needs. During her examination of the bar, Mellie will find a certain Ivan Fontane perched casually upon one of the stools, exchanging pleasant but superficial chatter with the bartender that's serving him his scotch on the rocks. "Yeah, man. I don't know. I'm not a big fan of the Cowboys, to be honest. And, hey! No spitting in my drink, or I swear to God, I'll not tip." His grin is broad and amicable, though there is something akin to weariness in his gaze.

Most certainly, Absinthe is not her normal haunt. Isobel drifts right into the establishment, not bothering to look and see who is about. She is a woman with a mission, and that mission at the moment is actually work - not the type she does for Will, but the type she does for a living. So, with a portfolio looking object under her arm, she stops several stools down from Ivan; whom she's luckily not noticed yet, and she sets the portfolio on the bar. "Please inform the manager that the photographs from the winter-fest carnival are here, and that the cheque should be sent to E3 at his earliest possible convenience." To lock this into the mind of the mortal bartender, she does a brief glamour.

Then she hears Ivan. "Oh, /hello/ little dinner." Wink.

She gets a few looks, but no one, heh, bites. Well, if the mountain won't come to Mohammad… Mellie waits it out for a few moments before pulling herself back upright, impatiently eyeing the establishment. Monday nights are harder; social drinkers instead of drunk partiers who are far gone enough to think it's a good idea to buy a drink for the not-quite-jailbait. Since most of the action seem to be going on at the bar, she opts to relocate, rising smoothly and beginning to saunter in that direction, attempting to catch an eye, or a snatch of helpful conversation.

Ivan glances over his shoulder as a distinctly familiar drawl, and with a quirk of his brows, his attention falls upon the blonde woman. A moment passes, and then another, during which Ivan lifts the scotch to his lips for a drink. "Mhmm. Well, hello to you too, anxious eater." He retorts, his lips curled in a wry, bemused sort of expression. He's not being particularly welcoming, but he certainly isn't shooing her away - which means there are certain facts that he still remains ignorant of. As his gaze sweeps the bar - a paranoid tick of his - they fall upon Mellie, lingering perhaps a second too long, possibly allowing her to have the impression that it was an invitation. "How's you, anyway?" This is to Isobel.

Waiting just a moment longer to ensure the bartender got her message fully, she slips over beside Ivan. A hand is placed upon his shoulder, she teasingly slips behind him and snaps her teeth. "Full," Isobel murmurs. "So do not fret." Her eyes catch the young woman, and immediately she turns to face her. "You," she says pointing briefly to Mellie, "are out of your element." Attention is turned back to Ivan, and she says, "You and I have something to discuss, if you have several moments of spare time."

Looking for a sign, Mellie does take Ivan's lingering glance as an invitation, if her come-hither grin and sidling over in that direction are any indication. Of course, being addressed directly does even more to pull her in, even as Isobel's words stop the girl in her tracks for just a beat. She's not quite sure how to take that, before simply laughing it off with a wry chuckle. "Trendier a place than I usually frequent," she replies. Yes, she's out of her element due to the nature of the element, not her age. But then, she did manage to get work in a bar, so it's not even entirely a lie. She steps up to the bar now, opting to lean back against it rather than face the bartender. Propping up her elbow on the surface of it, she gives her hair a toss, revealing a few faint scars on her neck, for those who know to look for these things. "Of course, that could be helped with company…" Or a drink, though she doesn't come right out and say that, as her dark gaze flickers between them both. She's pretty much just ignoring the fact that there was a conversation going on here.

Ivan is trying his best to remain composed, yes. He is trying to remain cool, and collected…and to not instinctually go for the silver-gilded dagger he has hidden in his sports coat. But it's kind of difficult when a vampire that has expressed, in no uncertain terms, her desire to drink from him is around. Especially when she's behind him, and touching his shoulder, so close to his throat. The reality of it prompts a shudder to run down his spine - a gesture which can be taken as both positive or negative, depending on their perspective. "Me?" He murmurs, low and emotionless. "Well. I suppose I can spare a second or two…"

Oh, but look, a Mellie! Though Ivan may not really express it, he there is a bit of relief in the way he looks over to her, his lips curling into a wry smile.

Oh, to be flanked by two attractive women. His life is oh so hard, you must understand.

"Hey there, stranger." He greets Mellia amiably enough, lifting his drink to her as in a toast. "Ignore Miss Symon. She's a bit…exclusive."

An extremely disgusted look is given to Mellie, Isobel's fists clenching a little - the only real movements she's made in a while. "Flaunting those scars as though they are prizes is deplorable. Only the lowliest of the low would care to taste from one who has been so frequently fed from." It goes far beyond exclusivity. Isobel genuinely dislikes fangbangers, looking at them as though they are used cheeseburgers or something of the sort.

Fingers reach out to tease at the back of Ivan's neck, letting him know just how close she can get when she's full. Just to tease him. "Perhaps not the best thing to discuss in front of prying ears though, hmm? It is a slightly more private topic of conversation, involving the girl you are bedding."

Mellie's eyebrows arch as she gets such a reaction from Isobel, though she does have the good grace to straighten up a little, letting her hair fall back over her neck, to hide the most obvious of the marks. "I haven't had any complaints," she replies just a touch defensively, though her tone is far more respectful than any human would get expressing similar sentiments. Clearly quite a few people find her digestible, or she wouldn't get fed on so often. Instead, she brings her gaze back to Ivan, her smile slow but returning. "Hey," is offered in return, smile turning a touch coy as she lets her eyes drop meaningfully to his drink that's been lifted in toast. What she wouldn't give for one of her very own… There's a quick glance back up at Isobel as she teases Ivan, Mellie's dark gaze taking in those fingers on his neck, still fascinated even if her feelings are a touch hurt. One eyebrow arches slightly at the hint of gossip, but she makes no offer to make herself scarce.

The night is still young, and the atmosphere in Absinthe is mellow. There is no commotion, nothing that particular writes this off as anything other then a typical, average afternoon. There is a hum of conversation and life found in the air, and at the bar are three particular persons of interest. One underaged teenager. One Whip. And one Sexy Beast (Ahem).

Ivan doesn't notice the fang marks that mar the smoothness of Mellie's neck until Isobel comments on them, clearly not used to inspecting people very thoroughly when he's in a bar for leisure and not work. Or for any purposes other then appreciating female assets. And so, when his eyes swivel in their direction, he proceeds to peer at the youngin' with something resembling curiosity and just a tad bit of something completely unreadable. Unlike Isobel, however, he does not comment on her appearance, choosing instead to roll his neck, attempting to shrug off the offending cold fingers that are found at the base of his neck. For the moment, he wont actually instruct Isobel to stop touching him, but his tension should make his desires quite clear to her.

"You want something to drink?" It's almost wry, the question posed to Mellie. Of course she does. Ivan recognizes that look - it's one he's preyed upon so many times at so many clubs and bars in his past. Plus, it's a welcome distraction from Isobel, who unnerves him just a bit. "What would you like? I'm in a giving mood. Just on-…"

He ices over, jaws clenching tightly as he cants his head to the side in order to peer at Isobel. "Yeah?" He grunts, rough and low. "What about her?"

"The reason," Isobel responds dryly to the underaged girl, "That you have not had any complaints is because you are an easy meal." The entire point of feeding from the hoof is the hunt. It makes everything all the more enjoyable. While she speaks, she turns her attention from Ivan again, all so that she can stare directly into the young woman's eyes. A glamour is in the process of being weaved. Something she's loathe to do, but the girl's presence necessitates it. "You will not remember a single word that you hear in regards to the conversation that is about to happen. When you leave here, you will go home and sleep, and you will find that you had a rather enjoyable evening." She does not tell the girl that she should not be here, or that she should not be attempting to purchase alcohol due to her underaged status.

"First allow me to help you. She, is the underaged waitress at Bloody Mary's. A fangbanger. Should you be caught purchasing alcohol for her, it may look bad with your political aspirations." Still standing behind Ivan, though no longer touching him, she continues. "Miss Tyler is once more of sound mind. While she is still being protected by the Sheriff, she is once more able to be claimed. There were two who offered their protection of her, and they were informed that this would now be acceptable /should Miss Tyler agree to it without coercion/."

Isobel shifts just enough so that she can seat herself beside Ivan. "Before you go off into some diatribe, you may ask questions about the claim and I will willingly explain them to you so that you understand the true nature of what is happening."

"Yeah, all right," Mellie agrees to the offer of a drink, acting for all the world as though it were Ivan's idea in the first place. So kind of him! It earns him a grin and everything. Even though he's quickly distracted, she still puts in her order, not wanting to waste this opportunity. "Martini would be fine." It's tossed out ever so casually, when really, she's just hoping it seems classy enough for a joint like this. Does she really seem so out of place? She might have gone on, tried to score more or chat him up in the hopes of turning one drink into an evening of them, but it comes her turn to be distracted.

She's not terribly hard to glamour, her will not lacking but readily pliable, and having no supernatural protection against the feat. She listens to the order, not arguing it, simply nodding her comprehension of it. Though she'd surely protest getting drink-blocked here, this time she doesn't say a peep in that regard. Eyes rather passively move between the pair as they converse.

Once inside the door, Guy pauses for a few moments giving the occupants in the room a few moments to look at him. He makes a show of smoothing out and straightening his jacket as he lifts his gaze to regard the trio at the bar. A knowing crooked grin creeps into his features as he spies the young fangbanger, a grin that becomes even more pronounced as he spies what could potentially be a heated conversation. Never one to let conflict deter him however, he begins walking towards the bar at a deliberate pace.

And all this Ivan watches through sharp, calculating eyes, shining a brilliant gleam as he's given a first hand account of just how the vampires manage to do their own brand of proverbial magic. It fascinates Ivan, almost as much as it unsettles him. And grimly, he lifts his glass to his lips once more, taking a sip of the liquid courage before bothering to speak. "Mhmm. So that's how it's done." He comments easily, less cold and more scientific then before. "I was aware that your kind had an…ability of that effect. But, I didn't know the exact nature of it." When she comments on how she can help him, he grows quiet, contemplative, but eventually he rolls his shoulders in a shrug. "Let her have at least that. The 'tender is a friend of mine, and there aren't witnesses around that would hold up as anything other then hearsay." After all, Mellie already ordered. And she does look older then her age suggests.

But then, Isobel is offering him news. One of the important variety. Immediately, his slouch disappears as his body language turns somber, and he actually angles his body in her direction in order to fix her with a suspicious look. "Claim? Why does she need to be claimed, if she's still being protected by the Sheriff? Why can't things just remain the way they are?" He inquires, frowning darkly with a tinge of possessiveness found in his tone. Suddenly, he freezes. Could this be why that vampire had approached the two of them the other day? "Why did you have to announce it to anyone? She's going to be fucked with again!"

"Language, little dinner. There is only one man who is allowed to use such in my presence." Despite her irritation with him, her voice is cool and calm. Isobel allows the drink to be ordered for the underaged girl without any fuss. Should it come to it, she knows who will be implicated in the matter and it will not be her. "The Sheriff cannot keep care of her every night, and his care of her nearly got him killed. Should he sacrifice his life to keep your bed warmer safe?" Her brow quirks upward, and she holds up a hand. "Before you speak, consider that it is /of her own free will/ and that she is able to deny it if she wishes. The message was only given to two, and I fully suspect that anyone else besides myself who attempts to lay a claim on her are merely doing so to show the Sheriff in an extremely bad light. As you are well aware, a position of power does not exactly garner one many friends." There is a sly little smirk upon her face. "Should you desire it, I shall lay my own claim upon her in lieu of the Sheriff. Merely to keep her safe until the dangers have passed, at which time I will relinquish the claim. I have no desire to involve myself sexually with Miss Tyler, nor do I feel the need to feed from her. I much prefer men." A pointed look given to Ivan at that.

Mellie's gaze continues flickering between the two as they speak, trying to follow it. It's fascinating for one so obsessed with vampire lore - even if she won't be able to remember it later. And the promise of a drink definitely puts her in a better mood. Ivan would score some major points if she'd be able to recall him forging ahead. Then again, getting the drink alone may earn him all the points he wants. Since she isn't quite as involved in the conversation and feeling not inclined to butt in for once, her gaze is freer to wander the bar, and so the approaching Guy does catch her notice. Her eyebrows lift slightly as she gives him a quick once over, and then he gets a grin.

Guy makes his way to where the trio is, stopping just short of entering anyone's personal space. Hands thrust casually into his jacket pockets, he tilts his head slightly to regard the conversation. The expression on his face shows he's clearly enjoying the present tension in the air. He doesn't spare Mellie another glance for the moment, not directly anyway. He waits for a moment or two for anyone to react directly to his presence, and then softly clears his throat.

With all that's happening, to say that Isobel's first comment throws Ivan off-guard is an understatement. For a man not used to habitually swearing around people who aren't close to him, it takes a moment for him to review his words and spot the offensive bit. And when he does, he can't help the slight bemusement he feels - after all, it's a distraction from the severity of the topic of conversation. "What? You mean fuck? I'm surprised that bothers you - I'm surprised anything bothers you, considering your immortality and all." Ahem! Now, back to the situation at hand. Mild irritation does settle upon him when she mentions the Sheriff's sacrifice. "Considering he charged me with her protection with the promise of doing the same? No, I don't believe he should sacrifice her. But damn straight he should be holding her interests in mind." He points out lucidly.

Silence. Silence, and then finally, the deep sigh that is often produced when one is particularly troubled. Does he believe Isobel is offering such out of the kindness of her heart? Not for a second. "She's under the impression that you're conspiring against her." Beat. "What do you need in return?"

But suddenly, he turns his attention over to Guy, standing there. His eyes flicker over to Mellie as if trying to discern whether she summoned him over, then back to Guy, and then, his expression falls into one of utter neutrality. "And who, pray tell, are you?"

"I was raised to be a proper lady," Isobel replies simply, leaving out the fact that she nearly took up the orders and became a nun. "So certain words are still offensive to me, despite my years." Before she continues she spots Guy, just seconds before Ivan does. "I will be with you in a moment," she says simply to the unknown vampire. "I have business to deal with first." A slight brush-off, but one that is necessary at the moment.

"Were I conspiring against her, little dinner, she would not have had the time to become paranoid over it. I will admit that I do not exactly admire the fact that she is the one responsible for the injuries, as the Sheriff has promised to her well-being and is unable to see to it all of the time, I offer my services in his stead. The claim, should you be able to convince her of such, will prevent other vampires from feeding from her without my say so, and I am not inclined to share what I consider to be mine." Even should it only be a short while.

"A favor is all that I ask. I will not request that I feed from you, since that is rather anti-climatic. A mere favor of my choosing at some point in the future. I have done a little research, little dinner. Your grandfather is a very powerful… /human/." As though she may just know more than she's letting on.

Very briefly, her attention turns back to the underaged fangbanger, just to ensure the glamour is still in effect, and as it seems to be, she simply nods at the girl.

Not a proper lady, Mellie doesn't even blink at the language being bandied about, but that's probably not a huge surprise. As Guy ignores her, she loses interest in him momentarily, instead turning back to the conversation she's trailing along with. The glamour seems to be holding true, and Isobel's nod is returned. She eyes a stool as if pondering having a seat, but for the moment, opts to keep up with the cool leaning up against the bar instead. Taking up her drink when it comes, she takes a healthy pull from it, with the gusto of the underaged. Her gaze flickers back over to Guy as Ivan questions him, mildly curious about who he is herself.

Guy slowly moves his gaze from Isobel to Ivan and opens his mouth like he's about to speak. Instead he closes it again and pauses long enough to adjust a stray strand of hair that seems to be bothering him. He observes Ivan while doing this to guage his reaction to this behavior before responding, "Guy Tombes, and you?" in a bemused tone. His accent is an odd mixture of French and Germanic.

His response to Isobel is a simple shrug and a soft "hmph." His gaze this time does wander back down to Mellie for a moment before making it's way back up to Ivan and Isobel.

Ivan is not willing to discuss the topic with so many witnesses around, and so he merely clenches his jaw, turning away from Isobel. "You offer will be taken into careful consideration," he reassures the vampiress, turning away from the fanged ones as if to reiterate the fact that he is Done with the conversation. Once again, the glass of scotch is swirled. "Mhmm. Fontane. Pleasure is all mine." This is all he offers Guy without bothering to look at him.

After this, he is looking for a distraction - and he finds it, standing not too far away in the form of Mellie. Considering her idly, he jerks his chin towards the stool beside him. "Why don't you sit? I'm afraid I don't know your name either."

Isobel has half a mind to tell the newcomer that this underaged bar waitress is fair game, as she /is/ known around Mary's as being a willing donor. But not here, not in a public location, and most certainly not in the open. The impatience of the new vampire is noted with a bit of a smirk. She may not be the Sheriff, but as her dealings with Ivan started before the man arrived, surely he can wait a moment or two more before supplicating to her, or whatever it is he intends.

A curt nod is given to Ivan. "That is honestly more than I was expecting from you, little dinner. I appreciate you hearing me out. I will advice you of one thing though. Mr. Nishimura may have already received her acceptance of a claim, and if that is the case I will have no way to protect her. He is honorable however, and I will keep my eye upon him for you to ensure she comes to no harm by his hand."

Her stool swivels around to face Guy fully, and she simply says, "Tombes. I have yet to see you in the city. What is your business in Dallas?"

As the other conversation winds up, Mellie takes another sip of her drink, still just loitering until Ivan addresses her directly. She's happy enough to serve as distraction, glancing back down at the stool and then up at him with another grin. "If you insist." Settling herself on the stool, she crosses one leg over the other and then picks up her drink again, swirling it about. "Mellie Cornett, at your service," is offered rather flirtatiously. Her gaze flickers over to the other two, but her attention seems to remain largely on Ivan now.

Guy removes an offending speck of dirt from his jacket sleeve before turning fully towards Isobel. He does retain a slightly amused expression at Ivan's display. "My business is… as it usually is. However, what I'm doing in Dallas is living, so to speak. I'm going to be staying here for some time."

"If that is the case," Ivan speaks up, to Isobel though his attention isn't on her, "Then I will strongly suggest he recant the claim. Nothing good will come from it, I assure you." Because this particular trooper would be very, very unhappy. Pushing aside all unpleasant thoughts, he returns his attention to Mellie, quirking his lips in an expression of mild amusement. "At my service, huh?" He repeats with a slight shake of his head and a wry smile. "Yeah. I'd imagine so. D'you like your drink?"

"Then it will be necessary to make the nature of your business known to the Sheriff." Isobel eyes Guy carefully, committing the name and the image to memory so that she can attempt to either recall who and what he is, or find something in regards to him in a book or a file back at the estate. "You may have temporary residence, and will need to check back in with the Sheriff when is once more available. He is occupied with business at the moment."

A grin is given to Ivan. "My offer will stand either way, even though the methods of protection will be hindered if that is the case. You have my word on that, little dinner."

Mellie's gaze lingers on Guy and Isobel for a moment, before flickering back to Ivan, coy grin returning as she traces a finger around the rim of her glass, her dark nailpolish chipped and dull. "Mmhmm," she replies with a slow nod. "Thank you. I was getting a bit parched." It's really just about good hydration, that's all. "Lucky I can rely on such generosity." Okay, she's laying it on a bit thick, but it's done with a touch of self-aware wryness. She's always a bit ridiculous, but sometimes she's at least conscious of that fact. Sometimes.

Guy smirks somewhat at Isobel's statement. "I'm quite certain that the sheriff has more important things to worry about than what my business ventures are, as long as I'm not violating any of /our/ laws. I will be staying at one of the vampire friendly hotels in the area until I can procure something more permanent. I've no wish to make waves, not immediately anyway. I'm sure you're quite busy enforcing claims" he eyes Ivan and Mellie for a moment before looking back to Isobel again "and whatever else you might have on your plate."

A phone rings and vibrates, Ivan scrambling to answer it. Before he does, he offers a smile to Mellie. "Excuse me. I need to take this." Response or no, he's off the stool and out the door, to get to a quieter locale for the call.

"Actually, that is where you are wrong." Isobel looks directly at Guy now, a slight agitation apparent in her eyes. "While the Sheriff does have important things to tend to, he /does/ concern himself with what your business ventures are in the city, as it is /his/ city, and therein lies his concern." There is a brief pause. "As I am acting in his stead I am going to /strongly/ suggest that you understand that the Sheriff here may run things differently than you are used to and that you make an appearance at the estate to let him in on the exact nature of your ventures. "Until that time, I would suggest you keep yourself above all laws in all respects, Mr. Tombes, the Sheriff would not like it to be otherwise." With that, Isobel takes her leave, not far behind Ivan, but not close enough so that the poor man thinks she is stalking him.

With her source of alcohol scrambling out the door to take a call, and the other two not paying her much of attention, Mellie weighs her options for a moment. Still nursing her drink, she turns her gaze out to the rest of the bar, trying to spot another kind soul who might be convinced to get her the next one, ready to drift off in whatever direction seems most promising.

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