[Caligrace] Perfect Illusion

[Bjorn]

His brows arched fleetingly at the mention of businesses. He wouldn’t have pinned her down as an entrepreneur, let alone someone who owned more than one business. He thought back to Lancaster, to Meara’s comment about learning management, and concluded that the allurists in this town were prone to commerce. It made sense; it required a certain amount of affability to pull off given their nature. Perhaps it was time he take note of those that surrounded him; Berlion had warned him that he’d have to get out of his mind and be more present in the world if he wished to gain its favour.

And that meant getting out of his comfort zone.

“No thanks,” he replied, closing the distance between himself and the door. Grasping the handle, he pulled the door open and held it that way for Caligrace to take the lead. The warm air, pungent with humanity, burst forth from the establishment.

Every muscle in his body was tensed, the music from the live band unpleasant in his ears. The Celtic punk-rock that drowned out the loud hum of conversation was too cacophonous for his liking.

“Store’s right ahead there. I’ll meet you in a sec.”

[Caligrace]

The quick arch of his brow should have insulted her, but it took a lot to make her doubt herself. She knew that she didn’t have the normal, stuffy, business attire about her. Her hair was too vibrant, her features too youthful and her personality – well, that was an entirely different story. She made it work for her, though. It was simple, really, how easily people seemed to flock to her. Freyja never missed a moment to tell her how charming she was, and most of what she had become had been at the hands of the Amazonian blonde.

Of course, none of the her supposed charm seemed to be working on the man before her.

“Okay, then,” she replied easily as she tucked that obnoxious stray curl back behind her the shell of her ear. After that, she didn’t bother to say anything else on the subject. She was intelligent enough to realize when someone wasn’t interested, at least for the moment. There were far more important things for them to figure out, all of which came to fruition when he pulled open the door. The scent of sweat, alcohol and blood filled the humid air, and as she felt the pulse of the music within her veins, she found herself quickly spiraling into a state of hunger and… something else.

Something more.

“I’ll go ahead and grab some things.” With a quick smile flashed in his direction, she ducked beneath the lifted arm of one of the patron’s and slipped between two more with a mumbled ‘excuse me’, before she found the shop. With a toss of her hair over her shoulder, she allowed that quick smile to form into something far more alluring as she quietly gave her order to the clerk.

[Bjorn]

Code: Select all

Backdated

It’d nearly been a year since he’d started working for Elliot. Few were the times he used the front door during business hours. Prone to sensory overload, Bjørn was happiest using the service doors at the back. Doing so forced him to retrace his steps on the fateful night he met the d’Artois patriarch, a solemn–but significant—reminder of how low he’d sunk and how far he’d come since.

The telepath entered the pub behind Caligrace and made a direct line for the bar counter. It was as much a need to steep himself in routine to keep himself from disassociating, as it was the job itself. Charged with the accommodation half of the establishment located upstairs, and having been gone for longer than intended, Bjørn convened with his co-worker to ensure he hadn’t missed anything. Things tended to go amiss much later in the night. Aside from handling reservations, the bulk of his job revolved around playing security when drunk backpackers lost sight of propriety in the wee hours of the night.

There was a part of him that had been intent on there being something to do, if only to put an end to this awkward encounter. However, when he was informed that there indeed were new arrivals, he felt a pinch of disappointment. Perhaps he wasn’t as put off by the socialising as he’d thought he was. Aside from Emerson, Meara, and Elliot, few were the people he exhausted himself over.

Check-in forms in hand, Bjørn made his way to the shop where Caligrace was completing her transaction. He had yet to feed but grabbing a blood bag and dealing with it upstairs would be easy enough. Sadly, it’d been the one routine he’d sought to break tonight by finding live prey.

Out of his comfort zone what with the music and throng of people pressed too close to his back, the telepath leaned forward to utter his apologies into Caligrace’s ear. Work beckoned. Motioning towards the clerk for his usual, Bjørn straightened and glanced around. Would the allurist stick around? Was this the kind of scene she was into, or, like him, had she only ventured here to hunt? He wasn’t about to find out, a loud whistle cutting through the cacophony as the bartender sought his attention.

Blood-bag and papers in hand, the lanky brunet turned on his heel and followed the bartender’s line of sight. At the door stood two exhausted backpackers, their belongings piled high on their backs. Offering Caligrace no more than a nod and bye, Bjørn made his way towards them and proceeded to guide them upstairs.

(It was imperative that Elliot put in a side-door for direct access to the hostel as manoeuvring through this crowd at this hour with that much luggage was just… Halfway through the floor, Bjørn took both girls’ backpacks – an easy 15 kg each – and followed after. They looked both impressed and relieved, but he was too wrapped up in keeping his calm to notice their reaction, or to check up on his latest acquaintance.)
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