A Chance Meeting [Phoenix]

[Ishaq (DELETED 4744)]

Ishaq slumped against the counter at the bar top, propping his head up with his hand while dully watching the late night news. It was after one in the morning and the activity in the bar had relatively slowed down. This, to him, was the best time to come into the bar. It wasn't crowded. Most of those looking to party had long moved on to bigger and brighter places. No one was acting volatile and attempting to start a fight. All was there were the usual drunks; the guys who had been the first to arrive at the bar when it opened up and now were going to be there until its closing. Ishaq didn't really fit into the usual bar crowd, though the young man did enjoy his alcohol from time to time. No, he was there because...frankly he was tired of being in the slums.

He didn't particularly want a drink; he just wanted a place where he could sit comfortably and elevated for a while. Shifting in the stool, he peered up to stare at the t.v. The volume was low and for anyone it would be hard to pick up the vocals. Luckily Ishaq was a vampire now and he didn't have that problem anymore. His eyes fluttered close and he honed in on the sound to pick up the topic. Ah, the elections. More politcal ********. He snorted as he threw himself into the back of the stool, gazing at the screen. Gilbert, the conservative. She was pretty cute for a politician he guessed. Shrugging, he turned his attention to the inhabitants populating the place.


Sure, he was lonely and the bar was a great place for meeting people. Now, he had to do was find someone he wanted to talk to. Getting up from his seat wasn't too much of an option. People, especially drunk people, were quite paranoid and any strange move could set one off. Ishaq didn't want to take that chance at all. His hands were blood stained enough from brawling with a couple of gangsters in the slums. Another reason he needed to be out and about for a few hours; he didn't know what the hell he was going to go back to should he choose to return there at evening. He might have to drop be the place, Jesse's place, for the evening.

His nose wrinkled a bit as he mulled over the conversation he had had with the man. How he chose him. How he hadn't fully experienced the new life he had given him. He wondered what more could he experience that he hadn't experienced yet. Perhaps Jesse knew something he didn't. No, he knew for a fact he knew. After all, the man had been a vampire a lot longer than he had. So, it would make sense that he would know something Ishaq didn't know. It was just a matter of how willing was he to stick around and to see, to fully experience.

The young man groaned and rubbed his hands along his face, frustrated. No, no. He was suppose to be relaxing. It wasn't time for him to be...trying to figure things out. His eyes drifted to the t.v. screen once again. Yet another politically geared commercial was being broadcast.

"This **** is worse than the ******* infomercials," he blurted out, pointing to screen, "At least those things show **** I might actually want to buy and use. I don't give a **** about what you're trying to do for this ******* city. Like...come on." He held his hands out, shaking his head.

"Do they think we actually believe they care about this ******* city? They're in it for the damn money. Am I right or am I right?" He looked around. Any takers? Any one?

[Phoenix]

On any given night, Phoenix could be found in any corner of the city. The fickle creature was loathe to stick to any set behavioral pattern other than the pure basics. There was reading, but that didn't send adrenaline coursing through her veins. There was hunting, but it didn't stimulate her interest long enough; even the most dangerous things she could find often proved no match for her skill. Burglary was often the same. There was hacking, but her attention span was limited and she often found it difficult to concentrate long enough to be effective.

By and large, her pattern was a lack of pattern, supplemented with the occasional foray into the unknown. That night's version of adventure was to walk through the bar doors. The name on the panel hanging above the door wasn't of much interest to the redhead as she made her way inside. She couldn't drink, she couldn't eat, but she sure as hell could listen to the late night, early morning gossip of the thoroughly inebriated. Sometimes, pearls of wisdom could be found amid the heaps of vitriol they typically spewed.

Thankfully, she remained mostly ignored by the staff; she wasn't in the mood to decline drink after drink. But listening... that she could do. Even if it was just to the TV blathering campaign ads in the background. More promises. More lies. More ********. Though the demi-fae candidate and the thrall intrigued her, she was still eager for this whole waste of tax dollars to be over and done with.

It wasn't long before she heard her thoughts vehemently echoed from the bar. Those honey brown eyes flicked to the source of the complaints. A man, young enough, and apparently not nearly drunk enough. Or perhaps too drunk... She couldn't quite tell.

"If you were so inclined and had enough money, I'm sure you could actually buy and use one of them," Phoenix piped up as stood from her seat, carefully picking her way around the tables and over to the bar where she sat. It was always so easy for her to slip her way between the bar stools - usually, she didn't even have to move them.

"They're either in for the money or they're in for whoever's providing the money. All boils down to the same ********. It just sucks that we're stuck hearing this for the next three goddamn months. Such a waste of taxpayer dollars, really."

[Ishaq (DELETED 4744)]

A part of Ishaq hadn't expected anyone to answer him. He knew he was in an establishment where more drunks frequent. Most usually didn't want to talk; so his shouting he expected to go unnoticed. Maybe a bottle thrown at him or even some patron telling him to shut the hell up. So when he heard a response, he sat up straight on his stool and glanced around to find the owner. Blinking, Ishaq propped his elbow up and rested his head in his hand in order to better see the woman; it was a woman who had answered him. He ignored the fact she brought up if he had enough money, he'd purchase something from the infomercials. He never wanted to talk money with anyone, nor did he ever want to talk about it in public. People were always listening even if it didn't seem that way, obviously. His nose wrinkled for a moment before his gaze dropped down to his attire. He wanted to make sure he didn't look homeless for everyone kept assuming he never had a enough money.

Instead, he chose to respond to her evident disgust in politics. Great, someone who shared his displeasure as well. "I can't think of a time where our taxpayer dollars were ever put into good use. Well...****, schools, I guess," he brought up, scratching just under his jawline, "But yeah. We're ******* screwed for the next three months. Makes me glad I don't usually watch t.v. very often. There's nothing of substance in t.v."

His eyes stayed on her form, explaining every crevices and line they could pick up. There was just something about her that he knew. Not that he knew her; he had no clue of her name. But he knew her. Or at least he knew her essence. Perhaps he has always been in company of vampires and he just never knew it. There wasn't anything about them that called out they were different from the rest of them. All that changed once Jesse got his hold on him and turned his whole world upside down. He snuffed out the glow of human in him and replaced it with....he didn't know just yet. He replaced it though, he knew that for sure. There was something incredibly different about her, he focused solely on now. He needed to be sure though.

He had an idea of how he wanted to find out but he wasn't entirely sure how. He didn't want to seem like a creeper in the bar. He had seen how most women respond to creepers, if they're sober. He didn't want her to blow him off completely. Then he would never know. Ishaq teased his bottom lip with his teeth as he often did when he was deep in thought. A part of him was aware of how incredibly stupid he looked but he couldn't help himself. He had to do it; it helped him think.

"Can I get you a drink?" He finally blurted out a bit too loud. It was the only thing he could think of to say without sounding like a complete dumbass. Other than the members of his linage, who he wasn't ready to address as family yet, he hadn't come into contact with too many vampires. He wanted to be his usual charismatic self, but he was sure she'd take it as him being a douche bag. So a blubbering nervous like fool? Sure, why not. He just needed to do enough to itch his questioning mind.

[Phoenix]

There were hundreds of things she could have said, but instead, she kept silent and observed, at least for a moment. What was it about her that interested him so damn much? She squinted down at herself, trying her best at subtle, and still failing. When it became obvious to her that there she hadn't unintentionally drenched herself in blood earlier, she cleared her throat and stared off across the bar at the cheap looking walls.

Bored confidence was a cloak in which she wrapped herself; it kept her warm and safe, if not distant from those around her. It was an easy, familiar shell to slip inside, and nobody was there to stop her.

"Schools," she agreed, "And pothole repair, though they do little enough of that these days. Douchebags." And now it was her turn to field him out. "What I'd like is the assholes to recall the military from the mausoleum. It's a bloody crypt and should be some kind of protected local heritage site, not a military blockade." She shook her head hard enough to send crimson curls flying. It wasn't an anger she had to feign, not at all. The quarantine about the mausoleum had been a serious inconvenience.

At the offer of a drink, her head shook again - this time, far less violently. "No, thank you. I've had quite enough to drink for one night," she lied with well practiced ease, ignoring his seeming nervousness. "One drink is usually all I can handle..." Believable, given her degree of emaciation. On a good day, she appeared frail enough to be blown over by a strong wind. In any case, it was a far better reply than what she'd nearly blurted: 'Sorry, I'm not wearing my roofie detecting nail polish.' That would have gone over poorly, but maybe she could have gotten a laugh out of Doc. Alas... Sometimes, having a brain to mouth filter worked in her favor; this was one of those times.

"Do you have a name or am I going to have to make something up?" Which she would, in a heartbeat. Bar Guy was the current front runner.

[Ishaq (DELETED 4744)]

She turned down his offer to buy her a drink. She turned it down. Was his ego hurt? No. He was happy that his itchy mind had been put at ease for now. Instead of pressuring her to let him, Ishaq laughed at her explanation. It seemed the less creepier option. "So, you're a lightweight?" he questioned with a slight smirk. Of course, he figured that's probably not why she was turning his drink down, but in the real world, it was a good enough answer to pass. He squinted his eyes, deep in thought. Come to think of it, he couldn't think of the last time he'd been in the presence of a lightweight. Most of the people he came across in the underground scene had been drinking since their early teens. Most were drunks anyway, himself included.

He drummed his fingers on the counter, drowning out the television now to solely focus on the redhead a couple stools down from him. She asked his name and he considered giving her a false name for a millisecond. There was no guaranteed they would meet up again, he figured. He could get away with it. But he couldn't think of a name worth using for a fake identity, so he threw out his middle name shortened. It was a name he used when he was out with friends in the scene.

"It's Alex," he answered, smiling softly before getting up from his seat. He wandered toward her, only to take a seat one away from her. Close, but just enough for her not to feel overwhelmed or mostly creeped out by his presence. Ishaq shifted on the stool in order to be facing her. To be honest, he welcomed her company. She didn't have to respond to him. She could have ignored his outburst like everyone else had. But he responding meant she too wanted company perhaps. Or she felt sorry for him. Either way, he had company.

"So..." Ishaq began, "First off, what's your name? Secondly, what's a lightweight like you doing in a bar? It can't be for its great social scene." He gestured toward the somewhat empty and mostly quiet tavern.

[Phoenix]

Those honey brown eyes flicked to watch his fingertips drum against the scarred bar top with open curiosity. He said his name was Alex and based on those dark eyes, the dark hair, the darker skin... Nix didn't believe him. He wasn't Caucasian - at least not fully. She'd spent long enough in Toronto to have some kind of appreciation for ethnic diversity, and of all the names he could have come up with, Alex was probably among those she'd believe the least.

It did occur to her that perhaps this train of thought was a bit racist, but the redhead didn't much care. No, she decided, his name was not Alex, but she'd let it slide. After all, Phoenix wasn't her true name either, so she could hardly judge.

"Alex," she repeated, watching him close the distance between them. The proximity didn't bother her at all. There was a strange sort of confidence that came with knowing that despite all appearances, she could beat the ever loving **** out of anyone who pissed her off. Or anyone who insisted on continuing unwelcome advances - not that he was; this Alex seemed innocuous enough. For now.

"My name's Phoenix." An amused smirk played over her lips at what he'd chosen to read into her words. Of course she'd implied she was a lightweight, but that wasn't necessarily what she'd meant. "I never said I was a lightweight - just that one drink is usually enough. I used to be a bartender, so I guess the magic of drinking until I can't see straight just wore off pretty quick. There's lots to see and hear in a bar if you know where to look and when to open your ears, though."

Nix had powers at her disposal, and she called upon one of those as she fell silent. Without any obvious effort, she took a measure of the man before her. Somehow, she managed to hide her shock by biting down hard on the inside of her cheek. This was Jesse's childe. Would he recognize the name? He clearly didn't recognize her...

[Ishaq (DELETED 4744)]

She made a point he couldn't dismissed. He had been on both sides of the spectrum. He's been sober. He's been so slaughtered he couldn't walk on his own or even speak. The morning after, sick as a dog. And if he was asked to recall his night before? Forget about it; it was guaranteed he wouldn't remember ****. But that was who he was as a person, always living from one extreme to another. He was either completely sober, no drugs and no alcohol, or he was completely slammed. He preferred to be completely slammed. He could do whatever he wanted and wouldn't remember any thing of it. Of course, it did strain his relationships. Ishaq could joke about it the next day, but for those who could remember his behavior, they were either terrified or disgusted. Mostly disgusted.

"What about the bar would you want to remember, Phoenix? Is it the people? The drinks? The atmosphere?" He glanced around. There wasn't anything worth remembering about this bar. It was quiet; most of the patrons were the usual drunks the bartender always had to call a taxi for. Instead of the television being on a sports game, one of many probably happening, it was set on infomercials. Nothing about this bar was spectacular; yet, here she was, telling him there was something worth remember. There was something worth keeping both eyes opened and both ears listening.

Contrary to what she probably thought of him, his eyes were open and his ears were listening. One thing he took so far from being a vampire, you're always aware even when you don't try to be. He heard every sound that echoed in the establishment, from the man, whose snoring was stopping his breathing every so often, to the creak behind the bar every time the bored bartender shifted in his stance. The bar, though dimly lit, shined brightly to him. They caught every shift of movement, even down to the liquor stored in the bottles. It was all surrounding him even when he didn't want to admit it. Even when he attempted to subdue it. It was all there.

"Why are you here? Shouldn't you be out with your friends? Or maybe a boyfriend...?" he questioned, curious as to why a woman, the only woman in the bar, would spending her time among the degenerates.