A Series of Unfortunate Events [Siouxsie]

[Robin Little]

The bar wasn’t really Robin’s scene -- so says the man who works at a goth nightclub. This bar, though, was rough and tumble. It was men in leather jackets and women in fishnet tights, piercings tucked into every crevice of their faces. It was the kind of bar where laws were flouted and occupants smokes inside. The music that played over the loudspeakers was indefinable. Men and women lounged around or played pool, or sat at the bar looking morose and threatening. And then there was Robin, dressed in plaid and jeans, completely out of place and drawing arched brows and odd looks.

What was he doing here?

Blood, of course. Where he was a blood doll who worked out of The Necropolis, expecting people to come to him, there were human blood dolls who worked elsewhere, and expected their clients to come to them. He was one such client; he gave away his blood for a living, which meant he was in need of more blood than most vampires. Blood bags mostly did the trick, but he often sought the fresh stuff, just to break it up a bit. There were plenty of willing humans out there, and he had only to take advantage of their services.

His fingers curled around the wallet in his pocket, keeping a tight hold on the cash he carried with him to pay for the transaction. In his other hand he had his phone, with its cracked screen and tape holding the case in place, trying to text single handedly.

I’m here. Where do I find you? he texted, while hailing the bartender to order himself… well, maybe not wine. Maybe he’d try to order something a little more hardcore, to try to fit in. Whisky? No. Rum. On the rocks. He would take the drink with him once he got a reply -- and while he waited for said reply, his gaze swept the interior. Knowing he had a tendency to bring bad luck with him wherever he went, Robin was more than a little anxious. A tendency toward bad luck and this crowd? It was like adding fire to a natural fount of gas.

WEARING

[Siouxsie Sephtis (DELETED 9320)]

Siouxsie liked this side of town. It was her scene down its core. That's why she braved the walk in the cold in her leopard print mini skirt and fishnets. She reached the bar and walked in with a heavy push of the door, drawing plenty of attention to herself - and she kept the eyes on her, too, because in a world like this she was hot ****. Tall, leggy, bleached dead hair, sharp makeup and boots heavier than the rest of her. She was very thin in her frame, but was padded out by the obscene, hand-painted leather jacket that she'd coloured bright red and yellow. This was the kind of place where she never had to worry about paying for her trips. She walked the length of the room and crossed to the bar, shrugging her coat down around her shoulders lazily. She'd start with a drink, and score something better later on.

She got a rum and coke, double, but she drank it mostly for the flavour. She turned and lent back against the bar, scanning the room quickly. She'd learnt how to pick out the best people for what she wanted - the shiftiest looking guys, or the total outsiders, they were the ones that had the good ****. She spotted a few dealers, but she had to avoid them, because she wouldn't be getting anything free off them any time soon. Siouxsie made money very sparingly, from a part-time job at a **** take out place and off of her art, which she made a few sales off here and there. Her best bet for selling paintings or custom clothes was at festivals, but festival season was over and she still wanted to have fun.

A couple of guys she'd already fucked with were around, and they watched her but didn't approach. Not yet anyway. They would later on, and she'd let them, if there wasn't anyone else. But someone new did catch her eye - nice looking guy, not dressed for the occasion. Jeans and plaid. She tilted her head in curiosity and she looked at him. After a short while, she had him sussed - or at least she thought she did. Likely a newbie to drugs, and someone he barely knows told him this was the place to get started. Guys like that were a good target - they'd spend too much money because they're naive, and they'd definitely do it for a forward stranger. She set down her now empty glass, insides warmed from the spirits, and pushed off the bar to head towards him on the other side.

[Robin Little]

The phone remained dead in his hand. It didn’t matter how often he pushed the button on the left hand side, the cracked screen continued to only tell him the time. The allurist rolled his head on his shoulders and sighed. It wasn’t often that he got impatient but with each passing second, his anxiety skyrocketed. He could just feel it. Something was going to go wrong, and the night could only go downhill.

He considered texting the blood doll to tell them to meet him somewhere else. Outside the bar somewhere but still in view of other people, if that’s what they were worried about. If they wanted somewhere public, to make sure that the vampire didn’t drain them dry, kill them without witnesses. Having once been a human blood doll, Robin knew the risks. He knew the kind of people he was playing with. One slip, one misstep, a little too much trust given too soon and it was one’s life on the line.

Hadn’t he ended up in hospital, once? But then, that had been no one’s fault but his own, too addicted to the high of that venom throbbing through his veins.

Just as he swiped the home screen to type out the text, however, a movement caught his eye. The girl who’d just entered, dressed in gear that looked homemade and wearing the confidence and swagger of someone who knew exactly what they wanted… was she the blood doll? Had to have been. Finally, he could get this over and done with and out of this bar before the roof came caving in.

He came to attention and, when the girl got close enough he cleared his throat.

”Veronica?” he asked, for all the world sounding like some guy who’d been set up on a blind date. Worse still, some guy meeting a random hook-up he’d found through Tinder. ”Robin,” he said, touching his fingers to his chest. He forged onwards, sticking to his assumptions and his wishful thinking. ”Do you want to go somewhere private or do you prefer doing this in public?” he asked. This had to be Veronica. Had to be. There was no other reason a girl like her would approach a guy like him. Right?