Bloody Mary's Bar
Given to irony, Bloody Mary's Bar is decorated primarily in black and varying shades of red. From the black bench seats and chairs, black tables, black walls with chilling red blood flowing down them in a continuous manner, it's quite obvious why this bar has the name it does. Deep red mahogany makes up the floor and bar. Dangling red star lights illuminate the bar, lending to it's somewhat creepy look.
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The sun has been set some time, long enough for Michael to have completed those things he required done and to have made his way to Mary's, the bar is as busy as one would expect from a Friday evening, the vampires are as usual making a show of it, while the fangbangers throw themselves at anything without a pulse. Yet despite the numbers it's proving to be a quiet night so far.
Michael's not joining the vampires in playing the part, instead he's sitting quietly at a table watching the room with the expression of one long dead. He holds a Trublood in his hand, although he seems to be giving it little mind.
~
It's that way with most vampbars, really. The breathers come in, gape, flirt, think they know what they're about. The vampires play the game, knowing there's a vein or two to be tapped before the end of the night — which is a damned sight more apetizing than the guzzling synthetics.
For his part, this is James' first time at Bloody Mary's. He cottoned on to the rules fast enough. They're not that much different than in any other similar establishment across the States.
He's left his dogs back at the hotel for the time being. They're safer there and until he knows this establishment's policy on big brutes like his, he won't risk offending the proprietor.
Thus, he strolls into the place with a casual swagger. Not a puffed-up, look-at-me-I'm-a-big-man-in-town swagger, but one of those natural rolling gaits that comes from centuries of wandering and walking into new situations regularly. Not, mind, that he's had all that many centuries to hone the trait. Still, he's had long enough.
As he enters, he strolls towards the bar and takes a moment to survey the place. His expression is neutral, as inanimate as any vampire's might be. Only the glitter of his blue eyes reveals that there is intelligence still living in the walking corpse.
After a moment, he turns to the barkeep and orders a bottle. Once it's been warmed, he takes it and turns back to survey the room once more.
~
Michael has been in town some time now. And since Mary instructed the staff to give him free drinks he's something of a regular, so he knows when there's a new face in the crowd, his eyes take in the new arrival, as do likely the eyes of many in the club, Michael seems to size him up somewhat, judging those traits that give an estimatation of age, and once this is done Michael offers a slight incline of his head to the other vampire. It's a measured and calculated gesture, exactly the required amount to meet good manners and not an inch more.
~
James' eyes fall on the stranger who openly acknowledges him. Most others are content to either eye him curiously — in the case of other vampires — or whisper to one another — in the case of breathers. Thus, the visitor takes note of him, and the precision of the greeting. He returns it in kind, surmising, at least, that this one has been around long enough to have lost the overt traces of humanity. After a moment, he even raises his bottle in a 'to your health' sort of way before taking a brief sip.
~
Even for most vampires it would be hard to judge what, if anything Michael thinks of either gesture although after a moment he returns it with a similar gesture, even going so far as to motion towards his table, a subtle invitation offered before Michael takes a sip of his drink his attention returning to scanning the room. He seems almost bored by the goings on although the astute might note his attention lingers somewhat on one or two groups in particular, although it's difficult to tell what draws his attention to those groups, and it's brief enough that it would be difficult to spot. It's at this point that Michael's approached by a couple of fangbangers, a few words exchanged, quietly explain that Michael's not here to feed.
~
James makes his way easily through the tables. He gives a brief, hooded smile to a couple of fangbangers that try to catch his attention, though he doesn't alter course at all. Indeed, he expression returns to neutral as he arrives at the table only moments later. "Evenin'," he greets softly, once the 'bangers conversing with the other vampire have retreated.
~
Offering a quick smile Michael once more inclines his head. "Good evening." He studies the man before him. "I thought I'd offer an invitation. I do enjoy meeting new faces." He finally shows what looks like emotions, it's a faint trace of amusement. "I seem to be seeing the same people repeatedly these nights. I am Michael Isonzo. Would you happen to be new in town, or have I simply missed you so far?"
~
"Naw, y'haven't missed me," James says, lowering himself into the proffered seat with a nod of thanks. "I've only been in town a couple of days." He offers a similar smile in return. "James Stockton." Apparently from England, if the accent's any indication. "Pleasure to meet you, Michael." His head cants faintly to one side. He looks about the place once more, merely because he doesn't know it so well as a regular might. And, since his host-of-the-moment has a habit of scanning the room, James feels no compunction about giving into his habit of doing the same. "Busy place, this. That's encouraging."
~
Nodding Michael's attention returns to James, his own accent's far more difficult to place, it's that rare mix of European, and even American accents that comes from long travel, there are even hints at his native tongue of Gothic, a language that fell out of use in the late middle ages. "Yes, Dallas has a number of our kind. And plenty of those willing to feed us." He sips his drink. "Still I suppose it's a mixed blessing in some ways, after all the more of us in a place, the more likely someone will do something to draw unwanted attention."
~
"Granted," James agrees. "It's one of the new hazards, to be sure." Prior to the Great Revelation, after all, vampires rarely gathered publically at all. "Still, we've survived hundreds of years so far. I expect we'll survive more." He's not actually blaise about the threat. But, he's also reasonably certain that, short of a firebomb, there are enough well-experienced vampires around that the threat would be neutralized quickly enough. "Particularly if the Leadership is vigilant."
~
Michael considers that with a slow nod. "The local leadership is exceptionally efficient. And I've no doubt we'll survive, I've seen myself through many situations that were more dangerous than this, but the fact that many of our kind are still adjusting to the new reality of our existence is obvious." He still watches the other vampire, his expression thoughtful. "Still it's good to know there are more than a few level heads to keep things in check if necessary."
~
James is speaking in tones that can't be heard by those without vampiric senses. In other words, he is careful not to let the humans around overhear his talk of heirarchical matters. "I went to present myself to the Sheriff, but met only with the Whip. So, I've not met His Majesty, yet, either. Have you? What sort of leader is he?" He's merely curious.
~
There's another slow nod to James. "The King is a just and fair leader… ruthless when necessary. He knows the least learnt lesson of leading." He pauses a brief moment. "He has learnt that the Law is his duty, he must see it served, rather than simply his will." He takes another sip of his drink. "I hear that the Sheriff is unavailable at present. If so speaking with the Whip should prove sufficent."
~
"I expect it will," James concedes. "I did run across the King own vessel. She's a feisty one. I take it he likes a challenge." He'll certainly not speak ill of the monarch. Especially not given who the Whip is. "How long have you been in this city?"
~
"Yes, Miss Cornett seems to be a very… feisty vessel, she also seems exceptionally capable." Michael seems amused once more. "I wouldn't presume to know what the King sees in his vessel, but I wouldn't be surprised if the appeal wasn't in the seduction. Now that we're 'out' it offers a number of opertunities for…. different relationships. As for me, I've been here since January."
~
James nods to that. "I don't doubt you're right," he says lightly, taking a sip from the bottle before him. He files the girl's name away in the back of his mind, however, since he wasn't formally introduced the night before. Apparently, Marius didn't see the need. It's not really a surprise. "Since January, eh? Then, I imagine you know the city well. Any advice for a newcomer?"
~
"Obey the laws. Both human and vampire. And don't upset the Sheriff or King." Pretty standard advise, but the first warnings Michael would offer to any new vampire. "Oh, and watch for the Fellowship, they're quite active in the city, mostly they just cause a scene, but some I suspect are more militant." He looks at James for a moment. "Having come from out of town, would you happen to have news of anywhere that might be of interest?"
~
Tit for tat. James won't argue that. "I've been down south of the border, mostly. And up the west coast. The border villages could use a break, I reck. Chattle, there, is catchin' it from both sides." Thanks to American law, the Mexicans have become quite popular prey. "If it keeps up, I wouldn't be surprised to see a more hostile environment." A beat. "Though, there's amusement to be found in that, too."
~
Michael shows no sign of caring one way or another about the news, his expression once more blank. "True, I'll admit back in the tenth century I spent a few years baiting a team of hunters; there's a certain entertainment in that." He speaks his voice becoming even softer, possibly even many of the vampires wouldn't hear. "Yet the war with humanity now would be… messy for both sides, much wiser to keep the peace for now at least."
~
Again, James nods. "Aye, I don't dispute it." He's not that much of a rabble rouser, in any case. A brief, hooded smile brushes his lips. "In any case, I've had enough of skirmishing for a time. Lookin' more for a place to settle down. For a little while, at least." How long? Who knows?
~
Nodding Michael chuckles quietly. "I came here for the same reason, a chance to take a break and get some peace for a century or two. I can't think of many times I've done so, but the change in circumstances certainly gives us the chance to re-evaluate doesn't it?"
~
"Aye, that it does," James agrees. "Don't get me wrong. I like a good dust-up. And travel's got its perks. But, it's time t'take a break. And since the colonials are so damned welcoming, be a shame not to take advantage of it, don't y'think?"
~
Nodding Michael smiles a little as he finishes his drink. "I'll have to agree, I do like the Americas, I came before the War of Independence, and I've found them more than welcoming during that time, I think now that we're 'out' if we can play on their strange sense of… political correctness we can make very well for ourselves." His voice still soft he speaks with an amused tone. "We should be turning our attentions to making money, that will be the best weapon in our future after all."
~
James, sitting at a table with Michael on this busy night, cants his head slightly to one side. "Money," he echoes. He gives it a moment's thought. "Aye. Probably. I've not much of a head for business, though, m'self." Indeed, the Brit's far better a tradesman or soldier than merchant or financier. He takes another sip of his 'Blood. "Not, I guess, that I've ever really given it much of a go."
~
Michael motions to the blood. "Put away a few hundred dollars… a few grand if you can, find a high interest locked account, you can get as much as two and a half percent interest each year if you agree to leave the money in long enough… it's possible to make your fortunes on that and selling things of every day use today in five… six hundred years time… I like to keep a few possessions in storage for such purposes." Michael currently stands, the table in question is Michael's usual, somewhat out of the way and giving a good view of the room, he motions to the blood. "Would you care for another?"
~
There's hesitation as Desiree enters the bar. She pauses just inside, stepping to one side so's not to block the door. The crowd seems larger than usual, but it's been a while since she bothered to venture into the vampire bar. Dressed nicely, she glances around, possibly looking for familiar faces. Eventually, she moves deeper into the bar, and spots Michael with s stranger. Again there's hesitancy, but Desiree lifts her head, and at least puts on a brave face. Thankfully, the only real looks she gets are from strangers, people she doesn't know and doesn't care about. Those she can ignore. A couple of the servers recognize her, smiling greetings. Eyes widen at the sight of her broken arm, but no one stops her to ask what happened. Slowly, carefully, she negotiates the crowd to arrive at Michael's table. "Evening, gentlemen," she says, her voice pitched so they can hear. "Room for one more?— or is this a private discussion?"
~
James glances down at his bottle. It's still half-full. "Perhaps when I'm done this one, eh?" A courteous nod of his head. "Ta, mate." It's thanks as much for the offer as the advice. As the breather approaches, and interrupts, however, he raises his eyes to her. His expression is that dead, neutral expression so indicative of vampires, it seems. Of course, he doesn't know the woman at all, so he assumes his host must. And, in any case, this isn't his table. Thus, he turns to regard the elder vampire, allowing him his right to answer.
~
Michael inclines his head. "You're more than welcome." He is after all the host. He spots Desiree and studies her a moment, there's no sign of his surprise, he hadn't expected to see Desiree here so soon after her attack, but he doesn't comment, his expression is the indifference he always used to use when with Desiree in front of vampires, but then for all he knows his expression of affection when she returned was what got her attacked. He shakes his head. "Please feel free to join us. Desiree, this is James Stockton. James Stockton, this is Desiree DeVilliers." He offers one of those emotionless smiles to Des. "I was just about to get a drink, would you care for one?"
~
Remembering her place, Desiree doesn't automatically offer her hand to shake, but inclines her head in respect. "Well met, Mr. Stockton," she says, her demeanor polite and deferrent to her surroundings. She's the human amidst predators, after all, and it doesn't suit for her to be rude. Looking to Michael as she takes a seatnot waiting for either man to pull out her chairthere's a nod for him as well. "I would," she says, glancing almost nervously around the bar, "like a mimosa." Her usual drink, except in Absinthe where she drinks absinthe. Other than that, she is quiet while Michael goes to fetch the drinks, waiting for James to speak before she does.
~
"Ms DeVillier." James nods his head in simple greeting, English accent strong even in those two simple words. Leaning back some in his chair, he does give her an emotionless once-over. Her nervousness is noted, as is Michael's relative solicitiousness. Perhaps the broken arm is the source of it; he doesn't know. He doesn't ask. At least, not for the moment. Then again, her broken arm may be as much a result of her nervousness as the other way around. James understands the minds of predators, after all. And, right now, her demeanor screams prey more than most of the others here. It's distracting. He breaks his emotionless mask to offer a somewhat hooded smile, sloping brows inevitably overshadowing glittering blue eyes. He doesn't, however, make any untoward motions toward her, assuming that she is under their host's protection. Indeed, he simply takes another sip of his blood and lets the smile fade away into that neutral courtesy many vampires adopt in the presence of strange mortals.
~
Michael doesn't wait for the drinks to be served, instead he gives the order and returns, sure that one of the waiting staff will make sure he doesn't have to wait too long. He sits next to Desiree with a nod to the woman. "I hadn't expected to see you here this evening. You're well I hope." He looks to James, with a slight smile. "Desiree and I have some associatation. We're currently discussing the possbility of doing business together." He too is aware of the image the nervousness gives off, and the statement is said loud enough that even the youngest of vampires would hear it. It's not the protection of a claim, but the fact that they're doing business means Michael would have legitimate reason to be upset should anything happen to Desiree.
~
When the silence stretches so far Desiree's nerves feel like they're ready to snap, she turns to regard James. For just a moment, she lets her eyes rest on his face directly, studying the nooks and crannies of his features. It's not a bold stare, but more a simple observation, and then she's back to being politely reserved. Taking a breath, Desiree appears to compose herself, the nervousness receding somewhat. Thankfully, Michael sits down beside her, speaking of their association. "I'm well, yes," she replies to the question of her health. "The arm still hurts on occasion, but not enough to send me back to the doctor." Her eyes cut toward Michael when the older vampire mentions the likelihood of them becoming business partners; she's not stupid, and can figure out the message he's giving. "I'd rather thought we'd gone beyond discussion," Desiree says with a soft chuckle. "The ball's in your court now. I'm merely waiting for your answer." Then, so as not to appear rude, she turns to James. "Forgive my impertenance, but are you from Great Britain originally? Your accent sounds like a friend of mine from the London area." Polite questions, not prying or probing, but there's more confidence in her tone of voice and demeanor.
~
"South London, aye," James replies easily, not at all uncomfortable in the silence beforehand. Nor after. He takes Michael's meaning clearly enough, however, and gives an almost imperceptible nod that's likely easily mistaken by the unobservant for nothing more than part of the sip he takes of his drink. "Though, I've not been there in a while." He notes the subtle change in her tone and his blue eyes glitter faintly. Perhaps she was unsure of her host's protection before. ~Interesting.~
~
Laughing Michael nods. "I suppose we are, although it's my habit not to confirm anything until after the ink has dried on the contract." He sounds amused, taking on the slight edge of feeling that many vampires adopt when wanting to put a human at ease. "Madam Trovanova is nothing if not shrewd. We're close to an agreeable settlement for her half of the business, but I suspect she will try to hold out for another couple of discussions." He seems mildly impressed. "And I must admit I had something of a fondness for her performance of Scheherazade." His attention turns briefly to the waitress as she brings over their drinks.
~
Desiree nods to James. "I thought so. I've been to London once, on a photo shoot for Vogue, but never got to see many of the sites," she remarks. "As Michael has discovered, history is a particular hobby of mine. England is so rich with antiquity, I'd love to spend a year or so visiting all the historical sites." Then, as if she realizes she's talking just to fill the silence, she smiles, nodding to him. When the drinks arrive, Desiree stirs her frothy concoction, then sips, licking foam from her upper lip. To Michael, she says, "Mdme. Torvanova called me yesterday. She said she's ready to meet with you at your convenience." Business. The tone conveys strictly business, as well—until Michael mentions having seen Alexandra dance. "You saw her? Before or after her defection? I've only seen pictures of her in Russia, those she was able to smuggle out, I mean." Desiree turns to James. "Forgive my outburst, but I've seldom met anyone who actually saw my partner perform. I'm told she was magnificent."
~
James follows Michael's lead and allows some display of emotion to surface. In this case, it's a small smile, less hooded than before, but still with those glittering eyes. "I can only imagine. I know Russia has a history of strong artists on the stage — in many disciplines. I've not been there in a very long time, either. And I admit, I didn't linger." A beat. That small smile to suggest a jest: "Too cold." Amusing in that he doesn't feel the cold in the least.
~
"After her defection. I haven't been to Russia for a very long time." He speaks in neutral tones. "She was magnificent, one of the best I have seen. Although your Swan Lake is far more… emotive." He sips his drink looking to James. "Have you ever had an interest in the ballet? I will confess I haven't followed as closely as I could, but I do like to keep up with all the arts." He then smiles. "London was always a beautiful city in its way, even in the days when filth was common on the streets, I much perferred it to Paris. And I think it may even match Venice in my opinion. And I managed to get to Venice in time for some of the Renaissance."
~
Desiree seems to relax almost completely at the familiar subject. "I've only seen touring companies here in the states, but the dancers were amazing. I would love to visit St. Petersburg, and see the Tsar's winter palace," she adds, smiling, "but only in summertime. I agree with James. All the snow and cold—" She laughs, the expression in her eyes acknowledging she suspects vampires don't feel temperature the way humans do. She allows Michael to ask questions of James, sipping her drink and letting her eyes roam over the bar and clientele. There are occasional moments when she can be caught letting her eyes rest on James, but those moments never last very long. When there's silence once more, Desiree comments, "Michael and I met at Meadows Museum when there was an exhibit of Renaissance paintings. I'm not as much of an art afficiando as he is. I much prefer watching performers and atheletes. Russia has a history of producing fine examples of both."
~
"London's home," James tells Michael. "A body usually has affection for his home." Another sip of his bottle. Then, generally: "I don't follow ballet, though, I've got t'admit. Nor many of the arts. They've always been… incidental to most of my purposes. I prefer Rome to Venice, London to Paris, Casablanca to Madrid. But, Istanbul and Dubai are something to see." He offers Desiree that faint smile again. "I've only been here a night or two. So, I've not let learned the lay of this city."
~
Michael listens to Desiree as she speaks. "Well perhaps that is something to consider while the studio is closed one year? I'm sure your students would benefit from some time in Russia to see the shows and maybe some of the sights." He seems to give that some thought. "In it might be possible to arrange cheap group fares to make annual flights to the different cities of the world. It's always educational to see the way culture affects the arts." He looks to James with a shrug of his shoulder. "I've found over the years that it's never wise to be so focused on a purpose as to ignore the trivial. Personally I've found as I've got older that without the trivial arts and hobbies life becomes far less… enjoyable."
~
"Ah, I see," Desiree says to James, smiling in return. "Welcome to Dallas, Mr. Stockton," she tells him, sounding like one of those tried and true Chamber of Commerce women. There's amusement in her expression, and she laughs. "Forgive my impertenince. I tend to have a warped sense of humor, at times." She pauses, sipping the drink, apparently now fully relaxed. "I've never been to Dubai or Istanbul. There are a great many places in this world I'd love to see, but so many are embroiled in wars. With my luck, I'd end up being taken hostage or something equally unpleasant." As Michael speaks, Desiree listens, but doesn't comment. At least not immediately. "Life needs diversions in order to be interesting." There's an odd tone to her voice now. "Personally, I prefer what some people consider dangerous pursuits—riding motorcycles, racing cars, things that have a bit of risk to them." She shrugs her good shoulder. "Danger adds spice to an otherwise dull existence."
~
James isn't quite so old as Michael. He knows only the very tail end of the Renaissance from experience. By then, however, the world was well into the Reformation. Indeed, he was turned quite close to the close of that era of strife. Thus, he merely nods to the elder vampire. "As you say," he says amiably enough. "But, my skill lies in my hands." He shows his palms as if the skills he speaks of could be seen written on his skin. His attention turns back to Desiree as she speaks of 'more dangerous pursuits'. The vampire's dead expression reveals nothing about what he thinks of that, though his blue eyes do sweep her up and down once more briefly. Then, glittering, they settle on her face for the full span of two heartbeats before his gaze slides away to scan the rest of the room. "Danger is a relative term."
~
Michael watches James for a moment. "All things are relative, at least that is my experience. I've not found myself in any personal danger in a very long time. I suppose I'll have to take your word for it." He runs a hand through his hair. "Personally I was always more skilled with the academic arts, although I did spend most of my life as a soldier." He frowns a little. "I found there was much more luck than skill in battle however. And far more won through cunning than courage." This is the first time he's said anything more on his experience of war than the fact that he fought.
~
There is interest in Desiree's expression, as she listens to the two vampires compare their thoughts. She's mildly surprised by Michael's offering commentary on his time as a soldier; he's always seemed reticent to discuss it. The only outward expresison of that surprise is the lifting of one eyebrow as her head cants to the side. "Interesting conclusion," she says slowly, eyes thoughtful. "Yet, can't skill determine the outcome of a battle? A well-trained soldier is surely better equipped with knowledge and skill to tip the scales between luck and cunning. Soldiers are, by nature, more than men carrying weapons. Otherwise, you're saying armies are nothing more than farmers carrying pitchforks, and we all know that's not true—albeit some armies were like that, I imagine." Desiree shrugs that good shoulder again. "Of course, I've never been a soldier, nor fought in a war. I do know how to shoot, and I was taking fencing lessons before this." She nods toward her broken arm. "My father and brother served in the military, though, and I've heard them talking."
~
James glances over to Michael. He nods his agreement, really, to his assessment. "Some soldiers," James notes, "are, by nature, much more than men carrying weapons. Just as many, however, aren't worth as much as the weapons they carry — no matter their training. That said, there's a fair bit of both luck and skill needed in battle. Skill makes its own luck. Just as determination and understanding that, if you have nothing to lose you have everything to win, can make its own luck. Cunning and courage, however, are interchangeable and each effective in its own way." He's no accademician. It's obvious in his accent and in the callouses on his hands — callouses he's had for centuries. He knows the guts of the foot-soldier, not the protected noble. He says none of it, though. He has no need to. Instead, he drains the last of the blood from his bottle and sets it down carefully.
~
"Skill plays its part." Michael smiles faintly. "But in a pitched battle you're as likely to fall to a peasant with a pitch fork as a trained soldier, most of the men I saw fall in /battle/ fell to blows they never saw coming, or arrows they never truly had a chance against. I remember speaking with a man who saw one of the finest knights in all of Europe fall because his horse caught its foot in a hole in the ground. I hear he took three other mounts with him." He shrugs a little. "As for cunning… a man who has his throat slit while he sleeps has no chance to show anyone his skill. It's possible to kill a dozen sleeping men and not make enough noise to wake one of them if you're careful. I suppose that is in its way a skill." Michael looks at Desiree. "Maybe I could give you some fencing lessons myself if you'd like? In exchange for the dance lessons you've given me in the past?"
~
Desiree listens with some degree of fascination to the discussion, nodding here and there when she hears something with which she can agree. "You'll have to forgive me," she says to both vampires. "I don't have the broader view of battles, weapons and war you two have. The only real war I've experienced were the two Gulf Wars, the war in Iraq and the current war in Afghanistan. So, my knowledge is limited to modern wars. People still get killed by stupidity, but the weapons are far more destructive than swords and pitchforks." She acceeds their point by simply bowing her head to them both. "I bow to your greater experience." It's serious and sincere, and she finishes her drink. A hand lifts, and she orders another. "This round's on me," she says, "for y'all being too polite to tell me to stick to subjects I know." Her laugh is musical, and she's almost a different woman than when she walked in. As for fencing lessons…? "Well, when I get use of my arm back, I will need a sparring partner to build up my speed and strength. I'm supposed to move on to rapier at some point."
~
James raises a hand to forestall her ordering another drink for him. "Sorry, luv," he says lightly. "Michael." He straightens some in his chair. "Fun as this conversation is, I've got to get back to the dogs. They'll be needing a walk before too much longer." Dogs? Yes. He has them. "Pleasure to meet you both, though. I hope I'll run into you again, in time." If they frequent here, it's possible. He'll likely be back. Preparing to take his leave, he rises now, tipping his head to both with a single gesture. "Have a good night, both of ya."
