[Side Story: Exposed] #BitrMe

[Grey Weston]

Grey was slower to notice Lincoln’s approach. His gaze swept through the dim interior with a critical eye. It wasn’t the detached gaze of an artist; the intensity of focus that contained an aloof sort of passion. It was the kind of off-kilter lens that devoured what it documented; a kindergartener whose small hands were clumsy in the narrow ovals of the safety scissors. Viewing the world from its lens was like cheap blotter scored in some darkened corner of a forgettable club; senses at once heightened and confused by the pulse-fast flicker of strobe lights, searing and disorienting with their paparazzi flash and fizz. It was the pursuit of the memory of that chemical taste - like cherries, or chocolate, or the too-sweet, syrup thick taste of bubblegum - and the way everything felt. Sounded. Tasted.

A mad scramble to capture everything even as the memory faded and it left the realization halfway through the night that it was already being forgotten. There was still a hunger in Grey’s gaze, but it was one that brightened the hint of hazel behind the waterfall of silver links. It brought to mind the rangy, long-legged predator his name was so often associated with, if teasingly. The stare of a man sizing up the guests; determining who was worth a second glance and who wasn’t. There was a distilled magnetism to the stare; unflinching and coy. Which was why, when Lincoln did come to stand before them, he didn’t seem overly surprised. He countered Kaspar’s gaze with a wry quirk of his lips; a gesture that warred with fondness and amusement. It was barely more than a hint of emotion - the gesture largely swallowed by the delicate weave of the metal that draped, curtain like, over his face.

The sensation of Kaspar’s fingertips against his hip encouraged him to shift closer. “You just did," he pointed out mildly. Any hint of annoyance that might have colored his words were tempered by the slow, idle stroke of his fingertips, and the sensation of the his nails as they barely caught against the leather, softened by Grey’s body heat. “But yes. Grey. One day I’ll work my way up to ‘the artist formerly known as,’ for the sheer irony.” The sudden cool press of the man’s lips against his head coaxed a brief, genuine smile. “Have fun!” He called, even as Kaspar began his retreat. “For the record,” he began, his gaze tracking Kaspar as he moved through the room, his head giving a slight shake as, predictably, he wound his way towards the bar, “I’m deeply wounded you rejected my elopement proposal. Heavy drinking. Heavy drinking and tears.” His gaze swung to settle onto Lincoln at this last, the hint of a smirk settling into place.

“But really.”he continued, sobering, “congratulations. This is pretty impressive.” The compliment was sincere; that much was evident from his tone. He studied him for a moment, chin tilting upwards at a slight angle. It was just enough to catch sight of the delicate filigree that wreathed Kaspar’s face. Rather conveniently, he noted, angled towards the pair. He didn’t drift closer, as some might have. It was cliche; clumsy. At best it smacked of arrogance. At worst, it was built on the shaky principle that proximity equaled intimacy. “I won’t keep you,” he said finally. “But if you’re free later, come find me, mm? We can, ah. ‘Consult.’" It was only then that he moved just close enough for the mixture of warm mesh and the sleek, wet gleam of faux leather that clinched along his shoulders. He’d likely hear about it later. Worth it, he decided.

[Maddison (DELETED 8452)]

Maddison was decent enough to place her hand over her mouth as she started to laugh. True enough, it had ‘not’ been an accident. It was sweet revenge for his girly drink, a drink that now he wouldn’t have to drink. This was why, Maddison assumed Robin wasn’t into girls. He ordered fruity girl drinks and hung out with Lincoln, who she could tell had an eye for Robin.

She could tell that he was irritated, but then again so was she. Would this be the fate of sire and childe? Setting out to irritate one another on person. She made a face when he stood, her hand slipping from his lap. The blonde dropped her napkins onto the bar top and gave a roll of her eyes. He was so dramatic.

She then was demanded to help him find the so called back room Lincoln had mentioned. He hadn’t asked. Robin. Had. Demanded. It. Maddison gave another roll of her eyes, she was getting good at perfecting that look. “Fine.” The blonde, herself, stood. Her dress was adjusted along with her mask and then she pushed lightly at his back towards the back.

It didn’t take long before she found the back room and slipped into it. She waited until Robin was in and then gestured to the outfits. There lay the one Lincoln had mentioned. “Do you need help dressing too, Sire.” She let the words leave her lips in disdain. Robin could pick up on it, that she was sure.

[Lincoln King]

The beautiful brunette, the party princess caught his eye and Lincoln winked in her direction to let her know he caught her drift. Oh, he would find her later for a dance at the very least and hopefully remind himself of her name. It was one of few things that could distract him from the unique pair that currently stood in front of him. Perhaps if the man in green came to step into his personal space once more he might allow distraction, but when the junior rockstar spoke he forgot all about the room for a few moments. He was being observed, in a manner that was bordering on dismissive but there was enough there to bait him and Lincoln was biting at the hook, letting it sink in against his cheek. Opportunity, somewhere in his distracted speech and casual introduction was an opportunity that Lincoln was hell bent on getting the chance to pursue. Connections could mean the world to a man like him, a man who wasn’t afraid to sink in his claws and climb his way to the top, hand over hand. Perhaps that was why he literally scaled walls, a physical representation of the emotional and mental journey he set himself on daily. Something at the back of his mind recoiled, irritably pacing and thrashing out against what was viewed as dismissal, the insecurity waking it. No, not it, it was him. Kingsley spoke in a whisper, his voice hoarse with warning but it was easy to drown out, to force him back into the shadows of his troubled mind.

Now was not the time for a switch in personality, especially not one that could be profoundly violent.

There was compliment in the man’s words, two, if Lincoln was counting correctly. Backhanded or not, he didn’t give a ****, he said the idea was interesting and that was enough encouragement for him to bat away the doubts. Hel had to be cool, it was his brand and if Lincoln understood one thing it was brand. The man was excusing himself but that was ok, because his was partner was left behind and Linc was very interested in him, also. This was the one who he’d joked with about lust bibs with, ones that had in fact been made, the small towels embroidered with the Bitr logo that were inside the swag bags waiting to be handed out to party goers as they left. He smiled at the blonde man, giving another wistful once over of his suit and remarked, “It is an absolute pleasure to have you here, and I would very much like to speak with you later, how often do I get the opportunity to awkwardly tell someone I like their music and get to eye their suit thinking how good it would look on me?” When he was gone Linc let his attention linger on the man with the silver chains across his face, even in the face of the golden boy son of Nik Cherry he was ridiculously eager to speak with Grey.

He could only catch glimpses of features, handsome he thought but it was hard to tell what was hidden away. “Grey.” The name was breathed out in a warm sigh, feeling the weight of the name in his mouth, full lips shaping it as if he were savouring it. It didn’t hurt that the man had shifted closer in the leather that looked warm and soft to touch, he wanted to find out but he caught the sideways glance and turned to see Hel’s gaze passing over them from across the room. Well, that was interesting. Linc managed to keep a flirtatious smile on his lips, bowing his head towards the man. “It's off the cards then? Elopement? How utterly disappointing.” He jutted out his lower lip in a pout, reaching up to tuck a fingertip beneath the man’s chin, nudging it gently upwards. His natural state was somewhere between flirtation and petulance, tonight he was endeavouring to put the better foot forward and was being rather bold even for him with that mask in place. “Thank you, I appreciate that and your support for this whole thing. I’m pleased we’re finally meeting, in the…” He gestured to the mesh shirt with a touch of amusement tugging at the corners of his mouth, “Flesh.” Linc would have let himself get absorbed by the topic at hand, to stay another few minutes at least but Grey was aware of his situation and was giving him an out.

Beneath his crown mask he wore a look of fleeting disappointment, a glimpse into some of the genuine emotions flittering about behind the host’s carefully arranged visage. He had cultivated an image and was endeavouring to stick to it, attitude included. Why was he letting this man even a brief glimpse? For some strange reason he figured he wouldn’t mind, he was someone who wasn’t going to buy into the ******** either way so what harm could it truly do? “Yes, I actually have to admit i’ve been putting this part off but you’re right, man. I’ve got to get up there and make nice to the crowd, get the formal part of the evening over. You WILL be seeing me again later in the night, i’d like to hear your opinion… I’m also going to expect an answer to this somewhat uncomfortable question i’m about to leave you with. Well, I guess it will be a statement but your clarification would be very welcome because right now I have a mighty assumption.” He gestured subtly towards Grey’s partner, brows up behind the gold mask. “You alluded to your boyfriend being, well, either pale or… Look, are you two… Other? Is he? I am. That's why this whole thing started, a passion project really, though don't get me wrong i'm a business man and a big fan of money.” His broad shoulders hitched in a shrug, he didn’t generally tell the world about his being a Sorcerer but it wasn’t a big secret. “We should REALLY talk if the answer is yes. I’d really like that, but either way, i’m not going to…” He tsk’d, smiling at him, “This is going to be between us if you answer. Enjoy yourself, Grey, i’ll find you later.”

He departed without another word, detaching himself the weighted situation, from the potential bombshell that held a sort of brevity and left him breathing hard. The man had to shake himself out of it, a shiver creeping down his spine and shuddering through his frame as he found gaps in the full club. Eventually he managed to make it to the small stage, green gaze seeking out Sal and pinning him with a hopeful look, one that asked him to listen up. Robin had disappeared with Maddison, and he was surprised to find himself disappointed. It would have been nice to know he had another friend there to clap for him, even if the guy was likely to somehow magically break a finger in the process because that was just the kind of weird **** that happened to Robin Little.

Lincoln made his way up onto the small stage area, giving a pleased smile to the room as the music grew soft enough that he could speak above it into the microphone. He found his head venue manager, getting the thumbs up from her that told him it was ready to go. A small bolstering breath was taken, a barely noticeable intake before he addressed them all. “Good evening to all of you, and welcome to the Bitr launch party! My name is Lincoln King and I am the owner, founder and a proud user of Bitr. This app was born of the idea that those of us who feel different, who feel on the outside deserve love too and the opportunity to meet others like us or who support us. I say us because I have always been different, always thought in a way that others took a while to catch on to. People tend to be afraid of things they consider to be different, or strange and even if they have a secret yearning, a desire to be a part of that world it can be confronting admitting it out loud.” He let the room consider his words, looking around to see who was listening.

“As a society we often struggle to accept things we don’t understand, there is a constant fight for groups who are a minority to be heard and to be allowed to live their lives without fear. We still see violence over race, over sexual preference and gender identity as if these things have any reason to still be shocking to us, we don’t simply let people live. Vampires, some of you might be thinking, are not people. I respect your opinion but politely disagree. Look, I admit that some have lost their **** and those of you without your own skills do need to be careful but do not be foolish and do not be bigots. That is the last thing we need, and it is my hope that Bitr will bring people together. Vampires are not the only things in this world that can be hard to explain, there are humans who have abilities that are out of this world and let’s not even begin to talk about the true terrors that lurk in the shadows. If anything we NEED vampires, we need the extra strength humans and we need everything in between to deal with those things that most of us don’t want to think about.” His words were spoken in a confident manner, assertive without being aggressive which was a mean feat but he was determined to get this message across.

“Bitr is about building connections in a safe and welcoming space, it is for EVERYONE, regardless of their sexual preferences or supernatural identity. I asked you all to wear masks to give you the confidence to come out tonight, to speak to people who you may not have met and break the glass with a barrier to give you that bit of confidence many of us need to make the first approach. If you feel that you have made some connections tonight, that you have been seen for yourself as you were even though you hide behind a mask then that gives me hope.” Lincoln reached up to his mask, holding it with one hand as the other made quick work of the ribbon that held it in place. Freeing it from his face he pushed a hand back through his dark blond locks, grinning out at the room. “As nice as it can be to have that initial crutch of a mask to hide behind, it can also feel utterly liberating taking it off. I hope for many who are afraid, or who struggle to make those connections Bitr can be that initial platform, that starting point to build meaningful and lasting connections or simply to, let’s be real, get your rocks off or your fangs wet. Whatever it is, it’s ok and you should be free to have the experiences you want without judgement. Bitr doesn’t judge, and I hope that each of you in this room will think hard about how you want to approach this new age we are entering. I hope it’s together, I hope it’s open to finding something worth fighting for.”

There was a final pause, a final moment before he would ask of them to decide, to either be with him or be without hope for harmony. “If you believe in this, if you want to try and make a place for all of us, to form bonds and be a part of a movement that could help us all reach new heights of understanding then I want you to feel free to remove your masks. If you feel constricted, if you feel constrained then let the world see your faces. If you aren’t ready, then I understand but I ask when you get home, when you take it off take a long hard look in the mirror or into the eyes of those you care about and think about what kind of future you want. Again, myself and the team at Bitr thank you so much for coming, for supporting us and ask that you enjoy the party! Don’t forget to grab your gift bags on the way out, and please don’t be shy, come say hello and have a dance. Welcome, friends current and future, to the Bitr movement.” He gave a broad smile, his head bowing to applause that was given before slipping off the stage.

His duty was done, his mask removed and he really did feel freer for it. His venue manager was waiting, taking the mask from him and pressing a glass of honey whiskey on the rocks into his waiting palm, the woman receiving a brief kiss on the cheek for her efforts. “You are my hero.” He breathed out, taking a deep sip of the drink and watching to see what happened. Waiting, for reaction or for repetition, for people to do something new or to stick to what they had decided was safe for the night. Kingsley tried to whisper doubt but Lincoln kept his head held high and his hope alive, even if they didn’t remove their masks then the very least they might pause to think. ****, at least he knew they’d all download the app and give him some money if his message fell on deaf ears.

Business was business, and all that, but for him this was business with a message. The young Sorcerer wanted to be seen, he wanted to be heard and to be allowed to soar through the city with no fear that he might be shot down for being something… Else. Lincoln refused to be another statistic, not for his lifestyle choices and certainly not for his abilities. He refused to lay down and take it, he would fight in his own way for his rights and for the rights of those he represented.

[Grey Weston]

His shoulders hitched in a delicate shrug. “Not entirely," he countered. His teeth caught at the full swell of his lower lip. It briefly softened his expression, aided, in part, by way he studied the other man from beneath his lashes. “Business ventures aren’t unheard of. Just think: we’d be the world’s most iconic power pseudo-couple.” He didn’t reject the familiar touch, chin tilting upwards at his fingertip’s coaxing. “I wouldn’t have missed it. Trust me, it’s long overdue.” Harper Rock had grown complacent, infatuated with a status quo that was rapidly falling from favor among certain circles. There were those, of course, who were equally quick to label them as malcontents; idealists who romanticized the political slant of the two dissenting viewpoints. Grey’d found the app to be refreshing in its honesty. It was ambitious; of that, there was no question. Given the opportunity, however, it had the potential to serve as the platform it was clearly intended to be, rather than yet another niche market fad.

“He wasn’t wrong,” he added. “It could be a positive thing. It’s definitely gotten people’s attention.” He didn’t add that ‘attention’ and ‘interest’ weren’t necessarily mutually exclusive. The majority of the city tended to slant towards a chronic self-obsession; eager to pause in their navel gazing to grab at any chance to be noticed. The gesture wasn’t lost on him. He glanced down a split second later, taking his outfit in as if noticing it for the first time. The slight smirk that tugged at his lips gave him away. “Likewise.” The shift in Lincoln’s mood was subtle. The sobriety fell over him like a physical weight; there was a crack in his careful composure. It was short lived, nuanced thing. Easily overlooked. Grey arched a brow in reply. The reluctance that lined Lincoln’s words didn’t seem like a polite affectation, put on for his benefit. He studied him for the space of a heartbeat, gaze holding a mixture of curiosity and sympathy. “Go,” he said. “Something, something, your adoring public.”

Lincoln’s next words gave him pause. “That was fast,” he said, a shallow, startled chuckle escaping him. “Two minutes into N--wait. I just meant that most people avoid the uh. ‘O’ question.” Grey rarely announced his status as a blood thief. For every vampire fetishist - addicts in their own right, chasing the high of a momentary rush of endorphins - there were half a dozen that would gladly finish what had been started years before. There was the human population to consider, as well. A scattered handful - those who still spent their time trawling faux-gothic websites that had been a pillar of the early 2000’s - would likely be delighted by the news. These same individuals often had questionable usernames, their bios proudly declaring themselves ‘psychic vampires.’ Whatever the **** thosewere. Then there was the young woman several years back who’d featured on a reality tv show, due to her penchant for drinking human blood from the source. The sort of rabble who were blind to the jagged-mouthed horrors that kept to the shadows of the city.

“Hold that thought. Come find us when you’ve got a minute. We’ll talk.” It was as close to a public admission as he was comfortable with. He had no reservations when it came to ‘outing’ himself, per se, but Kaspar was another matter. He was conscious of the fact that the man struggled with the decision, and the inevitable sensationalism that would follow. “Good luck!” He added, offering a slight wag of his fingers in farewell as Lincoln excused himself, making his way through the crowd. He tracked him for a moment, before turning away, his focus shifting as he pressed through the throng himself, steadily making his way towards Kaspar. He stole up behind him some minutes later, draping over him as his arms moved to lock around his chest affectionately. He didn’t speak immediately, content to hook his chin over his shoulder. “You know,” he muttered, the fingertips of one hand idly tracing a path down his chest, “when you said you were going to ‘check out the party,’ I didn’t realize that it was code for ‘I’m going to be a bar hermit all night,”he finished. The fingers of his hand abruptly curled around the bottom of his glass, tugging it lightly from his grasp.

His lips parted, prepared to say more, when Lincoln took the stage. He listened intently, absently drawing Kaspar closer. There were solid points - some of which meshed with a handful of other views that had been presented over the course of the month. He straightened as Lincoln reached the conclusion of his speech. He allowed his fingertips to toy gently with the faintly curled ends of Kaspar’s hair, whispering across the skin of his nape. He only hesitated for a moment, before reaching up to shove his mask up and off, carelessly discarding it on the bartop. His gaze swept, briefly, around the room, curious to see how many others - if any - followed suit.

“I believe I owe you a dance, Mr. Faux-Weston.”

[Robin Little]

The Allurist came to a halt in front of the outfit left behind in the dressing room. He loosened a sigh before rolling his eyes at Maddison’s comment. The outfit wasn’t at all as extravagant as the suit he was wearing. It was smart casual but casual nonetheless. Robin was weighing his options, wondering whether he should just continue to be uncomfortable and stinking like an alcoholic, with all the red wine sunk into his clothing.

But it was far too satisfying to be able to turn to Maddison and unbutton his jacket. To rip said jacket from his torso – revealing to her his bare chest and abdomen for a second time that night. Next he reached for his belt and the buttons holding up his pants, actually relieved to be able to peel them from his legs. He wasn’t bothered that Maddison was watching, even when he turned his back to her to pull down his saturated boxes to reveal his bare backside. Outside, the music had quietened and he could hear Lincoln making his speech. Robin didn’t particularly want to miss it.

Hastily, he dressed in the jeans and smart black t-shirt that he recognised as the outfit Lincoln had been wearing before the party had begun. It smelled of him – of his human warmth, of his aftershave. Robin almost forgot to put his shoes back on his hurry, his mask discarded, left behind with his ruined suit. The bow tie was still snug around his neck. He flashed a grin at Maddison as he took her hand, tugging her back out to the party.

Apparently, Robin’s bad moods didn’t last long.

”I work as a blood doll, for crying out loud. Kinda public,” he said. He’d caught the gist of the speech Lincoln was making, listened to even in the back room. It was only as the speech was coming to a close that he and Maddison came out to watch, two fleeting figures at the edge of dozens.

He was, of course, responding to Lincoln’s suggestion that masks be discarded and secrets revealed. Removing a mask didn’t exactly reveal Robin as a vampire, nor did it endanger Maddison’s secret if it was one that she wanted to keep.

As soon as the speech had ended, Robin clearly for the side of revealing all, the music started back up again. Now he was ready to have some fun. He wanted to have some fun. He didn’t want any more drinks spilled on him, nor did he want to argue with Maddison. He just wanted to have some fun.

”Let’s dance?” he suggested. He hadn’t missed Maddison’s tone in the back room – that tone that suggested she didn’t particularly like being told what to do. Though, she hadn’t said no. She hadn’t denied him. She hadn’t not done it. Still, now he asked, rather than told, and hoped that Maddison would agree.

[Maddison (DELETED 8452)]

Maddison gave an exaggerated roll of her eyes when Robin took off his suit jacket. "Oh, hot stuff." She commented dryly, and lowly. However, Robin was still able to hear it. There was that tinge of sarcasm tied to it, so he could take it either way. When his back turned, she rose a brow and appraised his bare behind. It wasn't a bad looking butt, not too flabby and not too toned. A normal, squeezable one.

The blonde shook her head and turned away from him. She shouldn't be having these thoughts about her sire. It was inappropriate to comment on his buttocks. The blonde crossed her arms and strained to hear the beginning of Lincoln's speech. She was sure Robin didn't want to miss it. She deduced that from the rustling of clothes and how fast he was now changing. Before it had been slow, lethargic movements, almost like he was doing it on purpose.

Soon enough, Maddison was yanked out of the back room. She was really getting flustered there for a minute. She caught the gist of Lincoln's speech. When Robin took his mask off, she undid hers, stuffing it into the pocket of his pants. She didn't have anywhere else to put it. It certainly wouldn't fit in her boobs. He then made the suggestion to dance and so she nodded.

"Sure, that sounds fine."

[Kaspar]

Kaspar had been chatting to another patron who had paused to compliment his mask when the King began to speak, the room turning to give their attention. He appreciated the sentiments the guy shared, and while he was a fan of the idea he still had reservations. It was all so public, it would be so easy to trace people from their little phone screens to real life and what damage could be done? Hel hoped that it wouldn't be the case, that it was go smoothly and that his own campaign might lay some of the groundwork for vampires and others to be able to fit in to society. When Lincoln took off his mask and made his final statements there were a few gasps, and a few ahhs, many people clapping or making supportive sounds. There was uncertainty, too, he thought but he couldn't be sure if it was that or shyness. His own mask remained in place for now, watching others removing theirs or simply continuing their conversations when all was said and done.

He was torn.

Removing it wasn't exactly a declaration of "i'm a vampire", but it WAS a declaration of sorts. It was a show of support, a promise that he wasn't prepared to give to someone he did not know or trust yet, his safety and security in the hands of those around him. No, he'd see how the night went, he'd take it off if he wanted to but not because he was asked. Grey was reappearing suddenly, arms wrapping around his chest in that familiar that had Kaspar leaning into him without question. "A bar hermit? I am not, I wanted a drink and I have talked to people while you were busy. You worry too much, liebchen." Kas teased, releasing the glass as the man took it. Dancing was mention, along with it a playful name that had Kas's brows rising and a laugh leaving him. Grey had removed his mask, he could see the man's handsome features when his hands lifted to cup cheeks, stroking thumbs against his cheekbones. "Mr.Faux-Weston? That is a new one. You know, my name is already long enough, perhaps if you play your cards right you can slip a bit of Kirsch-Grube in there somewhere. We can make it fit, hm?" His words were teasing, hips nudging forwards casually to press to his partner's as he backed him up towards where people were starting to dance again. "Komme, Liebchen. I want to see you move."

[Lincoln King]

Masks were coming off, he noted with a deep sigh of relief, not all of them but many. Some quite eager to remove them as if they were shedding something, tossing it away and free to let themselves just be. Others seemed tentative about the whole thing, toying with the masks that framed their faces before finally having the courage to remove them, looking around shyly but their smiles soon returned. No one seemed overly alarmed, or angry at what was happening though in some cases there were delighted giggles at people viewing each other's faces. He had a few people in mind who he wanted to locate, to see if they had removed masks and were on display; both out of curiousity over their decision and a keen interest in getting a proper look at them. Linc pressed further into the throngs of people, many heading to the bar or crowding the dance floor, the excitable chatter giving way to dancing an laughter. He received a few claps on the back and offers to shake hands to which he happily obliged, spitting out platitudes and gratitude to queries or offers of support.

He spotted Robin across the room, and was rather surprised to see him wearing his clothing. The smart jeans and black t-shirt he'd worn to set up in fit the men relatively well, Lincoln was slightly broader but not so much so that it was noticeable, perhaps the jeans were a little looser in the seat on Robin but this wasn't the major thing that caught his attention. The brat was wearing the damn bow tie, of his entire outfit he'd managed to savour that one thing. He had to laugh, carefully swerving across the dance floor to meet him and Maddison as they made it to a good spot to dance. "You are such a ****, Robin Little, though I have to say that the bowtie actually works with the neutral colours of MY clothing... You're just lucky i'm so kind and let you borrow my things."

Unabashedly he reached out, fingertips slipping through a belt loop and tugging Robin towards him, Lincoln bowing his head towards the man's ear and muttering. "Don't make me think of creative ways to get it off, Slave Boy. Hey... On a serious note, thanks for your help and support tonight, you're a pain in the *** and you made a mess with all that red wine but it's great having you here." His broad palm clapped to the man's shoulder blade, grinning at him and shifting his gaze to Maddison. "She be mad if I stayed to dance with you guys? Or would making her a little jealous help your tragic *** game?" The hand slid down his friend's back, giving a sharp swat against his backside. "I mean, you fill my jeans out PRETTY well but you could've used a few more squats before you croaked." His tone was teasing, and seeing as it was paired with a vaguely appreciative glance it was clear he wasn't terribly disappointed at Robin's figure, not at all, just liked to give his friend a bit of **** to keep things from getting heavy. The man stepped back a pace, letting the music wash over him as the DJ put on a track he could really sink his teeth into, Linc letting his body begin to rock to rhythm. "Maddison, you may want to hold onto his limbs, stop him flailing them like an awkward flamingo. You know, get close." He knew it would probably backfire, instead of the pair of them taking it as a boon, as an excuse to get close they'd no doubt get awkward or pissy. He did a turn on the spot, laughing cheerily as the beat picked up and the party goers got down with it.

[Elizabeth]

Elizabeth stopped her steps as she dug deep into her memory bank about Tate. Tate, was quiet and flitted by time to time in a variety of ways. Be it the family Crow, or in passing in the sewers or some other place. So it was unlikely (though there were still big blanks in her memories), that Cosimo and Tate had ever met. She turned to Cosimo and gave him a small smile with a shake of her head. "No, I do not believe so, Cozi." Elizabeth said in a thoughtful, yet certain tone. As if what she said was fact and truth, which was more for her benefit than for his.

"You will like her." Elizabeth said with a nod of her head, before she took a step in Tate's direction. However, after a few steps it seemed as if whoever was hosting the event decided to welcome everyone and make their presence known. "Perhaps in a bit." Elizabeth said, her voice soft and thoughtful yet again. She searched for the male, her eyes finally falling on him as Elizabeth edged closer to Cosimo, giving the male of the hour her undivided attention as she listened to his words.

And as he spoke, her eyes drifted around the room to both watch and listen to the reactions of the people in the crowd. She tensed, from her jaw to her feet, and waited. Waited for something profound and yet terrible at the same time to happen. The end, essentially. Or as close to the end as possible for vampire. A hunter, or perhaps a group of hunters to storm the place and start some sort of statement and war. But none of that happened. Instead, some people started doing what he asked...exposing themselves perhaps or indicating that they were standing with vampires, or at least had no problems with them. Very slowly, Elizabeth unhooked her arm from Cosimo's and allowed her fingers to go to her mask. Her fingers probed the green and black material around her eyes and brim of her nose before they dropped and she shook her head. "I cannot." Elizabeth looked in Cosimo's direction after sighing. It would be ideal if both species could embrace the other, but just in case they could not...Elizabeth did not fancy seeing herself subjected to harassment and other unpleasantness due to her either standing out, or revealing her true nature. "There are too many uncertainties. It is not time yet. For me." Elizabeth followed that thought, implying that if he, or even Tate wanted to remove their masks, that was their choice and fine by her.

[Robin Little]

Maddison agreed and Robin immediately had a hold of her hand, swinging it up and encouraging her to twirl beneath it. Given that Maddison was more his flavour, dancing with her was far easier than dancing up close and personal with Lincoln. Although he was not drunk, there was something about the night, something about the atmosphere and the revelation after the unmaskings that fuelled him. Or maybe it was merely Maddison’s presence causing a physical reaction within him that he did not quite recognise, but which he did not ignore or push aside.

Soon they were joined by Lincoln, who noticed the change of attire. The man was expectedly handsy, tugging Robin in only to soon let him go again with a slap to his rump. Robin chuckled to himself before circling around behind Maddison, as if using the girl as a shield between himself and the confident Lincoln.

”You saw that, huh?” he asked, referring to the wine. He gave a shrug.

”Congratulations on the shindig, by the way. It looks like it’s been a success,” he said. He didn’t respond to the suggestion of making Maddison jealous. If he could help it, he wanted no more trouble tonight. He wanted no jealousy and no anger. No more spilt wine forcing him into some secluded room or other. He just wanted to have fun, to dance and enjoy the time they had.

”I’m a little better at dancing now, thank you very much,” he said, though his tone remained light. Robin was one of those who could take light ribbing. His esteem was low enough that his pride generally remained unmarred by teasing, but high enough that it did not cripple him. Or so he liked to think. Underneath it all there were subconscious reactions at play, ingrained ways of acting that could not be controlled or manipulated.

But no one could be perfect.