Transfusion

[OliWalker (DELETED 6095)]

Oliver Walker lived a rather normal life. He spent most of his day's alone in his small apartment singing to his pet rat and closest friend Bo. The day he died started out like every other day. He woke up late in the evening and found that his mother had called once again asking him to please call her back. He did not. Ever since his father had passed Oliver's relationship with his mother had been rocky at best. Every day is practically the same for Oliver. It starts with a phone call, then after that he forces himself to eat Something that resembles food, He throws on his denim jacket (which isn't very warm but sure looks cool) and heads down to the local pub for a beer and maybe some actual human interaction.

[Lancaster]

Lancaster’s was your average kind of pub. It was the kind of pub one could find in nearly every corner of the globe. It as the reason why Elliot had been so thrilled when Pi had bought the building; when she had suggested the idea of a business. The place had become like a baby to him. He nurtured it until it was fully grown, and now it had become a thriving thing. Something that he had control of, but which could also almost run on its own. Almost.

It reminded him of the pubs back home – the atmosphere of revelry and fun. With its mahogany set-up, its dart board, its pool tables, and booths and its fireplace, and its small stage at the back, it was a homely place. Warm, cosy, comfortable. Elliot felt right at home within its walls, and tonight he was right where he usually was.

Well, he was usually behind the bar or running the floor, or up on the stage. Tonight, he was mingling with the crowd, collecting glasses and taking orders; chatting to the locals who had come to know him. Maybe some of them knew there was something different about him. Hell, Dhara had said she’d been told he was a vampire but she would not say by who. Maybe it was just common knowledge among those in the know. It didn’t matter, anyway. Most knew him as just a nice, genuine guy, and that was how he wanted it to stay.

Having only just recovered from his recent illness, Elliot didn’t take to the stage; he didn’t yet trust himself to be able to hold a guitar properly. So he wandered. He talked. He delivered drinks. He was himself, in every possible way.