#23 [Seventh Night]

Fear. Archon tasted the word in his mind. He had rarely felt it through the years, even when kine. Instead, he had had to make sure he was on his toes, preventing anyone from catching him off guard. It was all probably due to the fact that he was not afraid of death, or pain. He knew both could hurt him, the latter for sure, but that would not make him into a coward that shun away in corners of the world. Maybe he really was afraid sometimes, deep down inside to the core, but did not pay any attention to it. It really did not matter, as Archon did not act in spite of being afraid or because of bravery. He followed his instinct, did what came natural to him. And in that process, he did not care for emotions that did not tell him where he was going.

So Beyonca was unafraid. For what reason? Was she too devoid of fear, was she brave, or did she simply see no point in being afraid of de la Cour or other Kindred? Well, Archon had to take her word for it, as there was no one else that could speak her mind but she. The Kindred were powerful, but reading the mind of others had never been litterally. Instead, they read body language, tone of voice, scent and other signs of the untrue or hidden meanings. It seemed to Archon as if Beyonca was determined she had a path that entwined with the hunter's, if only for a while. He could not forbid her, and he would not. But he did see beyond her words, into a realm of danger. A place where all things came to be a labyrinth of the deleterious, the venomous and the nefarious. If one did not tread carefully. He so wished Beyonca knew what she was doing. Her words lingered in his mind:

"I will not deny an opportunity to speak to him again though, if we happen to cross paths once again."

Would Beyonca's choices and her behaviour travel as a pestilence among his clan, among their nation of undead? They would all have a reason to worry if others saw it as an invitation to go and play with the hunter. Beyonca had survived such an encounter, maybe just because she talked to him in a room filled with vicious predators, as de la Cour would never have been stupid enough to challenge them there. As time passed, as every second and minute was born and left behind, he grew stronger. The Tremere blood in him called out to them all, telling them that what ever he was before had now morphed into something even deadlier. If the Tremere did not teach him their secrets, his blood would. The only thing that really saved them now, was the blood bond they had with him. Who knew what was on the hunter's mind. Of course, Archon believed he could not kill them all off, but he was sure the hunter could inflict enough damage for him to be concerned. There were so many doorways open to de la Cour now, that had been closed before. Archon did not care for this revenge anymore. Three years were enough. They really did play with fire, and so would Beyonca should she face him again without bystanders.

"You would be wise not to seek him out", Archon confirmed, this time without the softness in his voice. "But your curiosity troubles me. First Ada Von Vita and now de la Cour. Is eternity that boring, my dear?"

What he felt told him more than her words. She said she would "not deny an opportunity", if their paths happened to cross again. Opportunity. That word held more than it usually did, because of her facial expression and the texture of her voice. It seemed to him as if she actually wanted to speak to de la Cour again, and saw it as a positive thing should it come to be. She did not speak of standing her ground, being the best Ventrue she could be if she should have to face him again. No, she spoke of the opportunity, and not the risk that it really was.

"The Tremere are not to be trusted", he emphasised. "You can not depend on any clan but your own. The Tremere do not invite us, so if you go and fraternize with them, you do so at your own risk. And when it comes to the hunter, I can not stress enough that you must be careful. I would not forbid you to communicate with him even if I could, but I would be much more at ease had you given me the slightest impression that you fully understood what it entails."

The fraternal air about him was consumed by her statement. Archon had realized that even if she really was sorry, she would not back down. Maybe she had a cunning way that would shield her from the hunter, but he could not be sure. The situation of having a hunter turned Kindred was brand new, and they should all be careful. However, Beyonca seemed carefree, and it did not sit well with her Primogen.

"This is how this is going to work", he concluded. "I will send word to our clan that the matter is resolved. That should ease some of the tension, and give you safe passage. What you do after you leave my office is up to you, but I have lived for more than half a millenium, and I do think I know a thing or two."

He leaned forward, placing his forearms on the desk. The beauty before him looked more fragile than he had to assume she was, if wronged. But he did not want anyone to anger her, since the outcome could be her doom rather than anyone else's. Archon hoped for a bright future for his fellow Ventrue, an endless stream of good things to come her way. Not even the gods knew what would happen if the opposite powers got hold of her circumstances. This Ventrue, visiting his office, was an enigma. Archon's least favourite kind of vampire. Since she was his own, he did feel for her, as he felt for them all. Yet, she held something no other Ventrue did. His genuine concern, not derived from his serious business sense, but from his heart.

"Should you run into the hunter again, mind this: Do not let him come too close. He is a Tremere. They can conjure spells out of thin air, and we do not know what this particular Tremere has in store for us, even if he is a newborn. Make me proud, Miss Beyonca."

*sneaks in* I'm a little intimidated by how massive this RP is, and the fact it's been going so long, but I would like to join in all the fun. May I introduce a character? (Sorry about the watermark... I got it from deviantART.)


Short Bio:Falesyia is the only child of a self made multi-millionaire. The only thing her father loved more than her was his growing businesses, casinos. She was seven when her mother disappeared, leaving her to grow in the chaotic world of gambling, shady dealings and greed. She was always by her father’s side, watching how things were run, deals were made, and money earned.

When she turned eighteen she thought she’d see how things looked from the other side of the tables. During the night, she had caught the attention of a mysteriously handsome man, something about him captivated her. Despite should have knowing better, she welcomed his advances. When the man, who said he was just passing through, invited her to his suite she went willingly. As they were in an embrace Falesyia was overcome by the most intoxicating feeling she had ever experienced. The man was gone by morning, leaving Falesyia craving the intense experience. A craving that has not been fulfilled in the eight years that have passed.

Now that her father has passed on, Falesyia is the sole proprietor of the rather large casino chain. Though she is beautiful, she is a business woman to the core. She’s a rather astute woman, usually forceful with her silent stare. She does enjoy the nicer things in life, however, they do not satisfy her completely. She can usually be found at Posh, the most exclusive establishment she owns.

About Posh:Falesyia owns several casinos, however only one she considers home. The Dive is one of her smaller establishments, consisting of only three floors. The bottom floor being where you’ll find the usual casino amenities. Plenty of slot machines and tables to spend your wealth in effort to strike it rich. A buffet area is also on this floor. The second floor hosts several suites for those who wish to stay in luxury, and can afford it. Falesyia's private suite is there as well as the offices and security personnel that can see everything going on below. Also located on the second floor is a set of doors that lead to Falesyia’s favorite place.

Behind these doors which are always guarded by two rather large bouncers, you’ll find a stair way leading to the third floor. The third floor is where you’ll find Posh, an invite only private area where only the elite of the elite, the richest of the rich are allowed. A much more intimate area, with only one table of each type is run. The stakes are high, the thrills intense.

While most who enter Posh are well known celebrities or business men, Falesyia keeps watch on the bottom floor. If someone catches her eye, or seems to be on one hell of a roll, they may be approached by her agents and invited to sit with the high rollers.

((( ooc: Hi Shenanigans!

The more the merrier, as the saying goes. You are more than welcome. Great character!

Even if the roleplay has been going on for some time, you can always ask if there's something you wanna know.

Just jump on in. )))

(((ooc: *does a happy little dance* Welcome, Shenan!)))

((OOC: Thank you for the welcome. :grouphug: Right now, I think the hardest part is going to be finding a place to jump in. I don't want to interrupt anyone. I shall spend sometime reading. ))

*edit*

Falesyia tilted her head ever so slightly, allowing the man standing behind her to place a kiss upon her cheek. His hands that had been resting on her shoulders patted them in reassurance before he turned to leave the room. She sat in silence, disappointment over coming her. Why was it that so many men thought she would be easy to deceive? Most often her jade eyes would see right through them and their schemes. She did not get to where she was in this business by being a fool. Sure her father had practically handed her a lifestyle of wealth and fortune, but if one was to maintain it, they had to be shrewd.

The back doors to the room opened, a muscular man walked through them now approaching the table where she sat. He spoke not a word, as he knew she preferred it that way. “Tsk tsk tsk” she began, “It seems our friend has thought far too highly of himself. Now he must be dealt with.” The man nodded in understanding and exited the same door the idiot before him had. If you stepped foot in Posh, you better be sure you had the guns to back it up. Once you fell from the owner’s graces, you would be in a world of hurt. Literally.

After a moment or two Falesyia stood and left the dimly lit back room. As she stepped through the doors her eyes scanned the various stations in the room. All she saw tonight were the usuals, seated in their leather chairs at the dark mahogany tables. Having been satisfied that there would be no more excitement here tonight, she made her way to the entry doors only passing through them after whispering into an agent’s ear.

She descended the stairs to the second floor, gathering her purse from her suite, she continued down into the main lobby. The noise of the action in the crowded bottom floor had become so familiar to her that she hardly noticed it any more. Once outside she climbed into the limo that was waiting for her. The driver looked at her in the rear view mirror, his eyes communicating he was eager to take her where ever she pleased. “Brody, I wish for a change of scenery,” she began to address him. “Take me somewhere new, somewhere different than what I’m constantly surrounded with.” Her request had been rather lacking in details, but she had come to trust her driver. The man was one of the few faces that had not changed since her father passed four years ago.

As the limo drove about she absentmindedly stared out the darkly tinted glass. At first all she saw were the bright flashing lights of the strip. Each casino declaring theirs offered the best entertainment, the most bang for your buck. Though that was the air she breathed, the very source of her survival, every now and then, like tonight, she ached to get away from it all. As the scenery changed out her window, her mind drifted as well. To the running of the business, to fools who dared to gamble on fortunes they did not have. She had no problem teaching men like that a lesson. One they would not soon forget.

As the limo gently came to a halt, Brody spoke. “Will this do?” Falesyia’s eyes focused on the sign out her window. The Haven huh? “Yes, it shall do for tonight.” As the door was opened to allow for her exit, the pounding beats of the music inside danced their way into her ears. She grabbed her clutch and stepped out of the limo wondering if perhaps she was a bit overdressed for such a club. Long, elegant dresses like the one she wore tonight had become her uniform of sorts. She was comfortable in them, even when it made others around her not so comfortable. There’s only one way to find out. She reasoned as she prepared to enter.

Much to her pleasure, she wasn’t forced to wait for entry. She had learned long ago, if you arrive in high enough style, you could get in anywhere. Once she was inside she made her way to the bar. She would have a drink while her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting of the club.

((OOC: Please let me know if anything needs to be changed. I didn’t know if there would be a bouncer or a waiting line, or nothing at all, so I tried to make it vague enough to cover the bases. Oh, also needless to say, she's approachable.))

(((ooc: Shenan - It sounded just fine. Excellent even. There are bouncers, and a waiting line, but like you said in the RP, she wouldn't be made to wait. )))

"I have felt it too."

Moira's words came so soon and so suddenly, the statement made Valerian blink with slight surprise. It was as though she had tapped into him even before he had started speaking. Or rather, his art. She seemed to be so in tune with what was displayed on the canvas that she could read things between the lines, between the brush strokes, that even Valerian himself had trouble putting his finger on. While he did fully understand his art, it was often on such an emotional level that he found it hard to do it justice when trying to put it into words. Him, a poet, struggled to find the right words! And then Moira had, in less than an hour, managed to not only fully understand, but fully express the meaning, the significance in two of his paintings. Something no one had been quite able to do before. Many have tried, and some had gotten rather close. But none of them had hit the nail right on the head like Moira, in the way that made him want to go 'Yes! Yes, that's it!'
He really was truly and deeply in awe of her. Her understanding of him opened something up deep within his chest; a desire to pour everything he was out to her, a desire to see the same understanding in her eyes as she viewed every last piece of his personality. Not a knowledge that would leave him completely uncomplicated and predictable in her eyes, but one that would have her understand where he was coming from. An ultimate confirmation of sorts, that he was not alone in his way of thinking. He was unique, he knew that, in that he welcomed everyone into his life with the same friendly affection, and that his intentions were rarely anything less than good and sincere. And he had always feared that to the other Kindred, that left him impossible to relate to. Not impossible to enjoy, to desire, to open up with, no. But relate to. And to have no one to relate to him, that would be to be truly lonely.
But, while he was eager to see if Moira harboured a true understanding for who, and what, he was, at the same time he was well aware of his tendency to get caught in the moment and... not exaggerate exactly, but experience something that went far beyond what the other person saw and felt.
It would be wise not to get carried away, but to take a few moments to allow the first waves of excited enthusiasm to pass. Luckily, Moira provided him with just that, as she soon continued to speak;

"Darkness...has been part of my work for some time as well, even in the sketch I have penned this morning, a... memento of yesterday's banquet. Had I known, I would have brought it with me."

Ah, how he wished that she had. He would've been overjoyed to see someone else's art for a change, to study the way they had moved their pen or their brush, the depth in their art, to learn about them, even from them. Moira especially.
But, by telling him this seemingly small piece of information, she had answered one of the many thousands of question he'd had on his mind regarding herself. He'd wanted to ask if she had some of her art here, in Los Angeles. He didn't know how long she had been here, but it couldn't be long. Rumours of such a splendid creature would've soon reached his ears, especially since she herself was a Toreador. But she herself had preceeded any rumours, thus making him think she couldn't have been here for very long. And so that had left him with the question if she had created something while here, or even brought something with her.
Now, without having to pry, he'd recieved half an answer, which was enough to keep keep the question from bubbling out of him.

"A visual poem", Moira said, now coming to the part of her reaction that had left him filled with such anticipation; the observation of the painting itself.

And as she confirmed that she had indeed caught the small verses hidden in the shifting hues of the paint, a smile of pleasure and relief came upon his lips. Her eyes had picked up on them, and even though hers were perhaps more keen than those of most people, he was happy. Just one person seeing them was enough to him. He took pride in making his pieces subjects to different discoveries by different people. Not just having the viewers interpret them different, but actually seeing different things in them, leaving them the chance of discovering something new the next time they viewed it. It added an element of constant suspense, of never getting boring, even to the most jaded of art critics.

"An interesting choice for a composition with such distinctive protagonists#, Moira continued. "Strength concealed in a frail female shell and foreboding threat present in shadow. It reminds me of so many other tales, among which that of our own forefathers, Lilith and Caine, reaching out throughout the aeons, visible even as recently as yesterday, at the banquet. Would I be mistaken to assume that has been your inspiration?"

A small gesture of shaking his head, sending the still somewhat damp locks of hair sweeping across his cheeks, was Valerian's only reply, confirming that events at the ball had indeed inspired him and guided his hand. It was as though he was afraid to say something that would interrupt her train of thought.

An elegant, flowing movement turned her around to face him, and as he beheld the now very serious look on her face, his own smile slowly faded in it's presence. She was looking at him with grave contemplation and it seemed the conversation was taking a turn away from 'just' art, to something far more fateful.

"You say it feels almost prophetic...", she said slowly. "And you are not alone in that belief. Are you familiar with the myth of the Antediluvians and the Final Nights, Valerian? There has been some unrest in the Primogen Council back in London; some believe such tales to be real, and imminent. I cannot say, but I find it impossible to deny the presence of... something, growing closer. Something as dark as that shadow there, in your canvas. I am surprised that one so young has felt and understood it, however; most Neonates dismiss them as the deluded fictions of paranoid Elder minds."

The last words were followed by a slightly dry and ironic laugh, before ebbing away and leaving a soft smile on her face once again.
Indeed. The words that had spilled forth from her lips, were no small matter. Antideluvians and the Final Nights... For a moment, Valerian had to wonder if he was just a tool. A way for the universe, for the blood, to communicate with the Kindred. To warn them that something sinister was being woven into the delicate threads of fate. Was that why he was sometimes so overcome by inspiration that he simply had to paint? Was his inspiration not coming from within his heart and his mind, but from his blood alone?
No... In a way, it did seem likely. But it just didn't feel right. He rarely thought about the myths and prophecies that spoke of the Antideluvians rising and devouring them all. His carefree nature rarely allowed him to dwell on the worries of the future, but rather kept him firmly locked with all the joys of the present. And there was just something in his gut telling him that the shadow in the painting was there to symbolize something else, something closer, more tangible, more... real.
And yet it was still something just beyond his reach.

"That is to say, I am pleasantly surprised", Moira added, instantly dispelling his musings as her voice took on a more buoyant tone. "Forgive me, I sound so grim. You have a gift, Valerian: that of translating a part of yourself into everything you come in contact with: your art, people you meet, even the rooms you dwell in. I have felt it so vividly both here and while sitting in the lounge – I hope you will forgive my brief intrusion into its past? I wanted to thank you for the opportunity of being here and experiencing it first hand, and hope that your inspiration will never fade. That would be... a terrible thing."

As she finished, she did so with a smile holding such warmth that Valerian, although trapped in an undead body, could almost feel it heat up his cheeks. It was a smile so sincere it brought pure joy to his heart, and needless to say, it drew a smile equally warm from his own lips.

"Thank you", he said, lowering his gaze to the floor and inclining his head slightly, feeling deeply honored and humbled by her words. "And please, don't apologize, as there is nothing to forgive. It is no secret that the lounge has seen many... private moments shared. Though I will ask that whatever details presented themselves to you, you keep secret. Many of my... friends favour discretion."

So, that was what he had felt when he had stepped through the door to the lounge. her senses at work, the intensity they left hanging in the air. How interesting it would be to know just exactly what it was that she had felt. But again, he wouldn't pry.

As he spoke, his gaze had found it's way back to her face, and as he looked into her eyes, that's when something else occured to him. Something she had said while speaking of the Antideluvians. Something that he had registered, but that had been pushed aside by the gravity in her voice, temporarily banishing all sidetracking thoughts from his mind.

"You are a Primogen?" he asked with eyes twinkling with curiousity, as he vividly recalled her words of the 'unrest' in the Primogen council of London, regarding their forefathers.

After the doors were kindly opened for her, Falesyia stepped into a world that was just as loud as her own, yet entirely different. Not one to stand around and look a fool, she didn’t pause once she was inside. Instead she instantly made her way to the bar on the right. Placing her clutch in her lap, she noted that the lady behind it was, at the moment, busy talking with a woman in a light pink dress that contrasted greatly with the darkness of the room.

Falesyia crossed her right leg over her left, sitting parallel with the bar. Her eyes scanned the room, her thoughts complemented Brody, had indeed done just as she requested. The dark club would be rather depressing if it wasn’t for the lavish velvety purple that was entwined with the black. No doubt designed to provoke a sense of mystery in its patrons. The beat that resounded from the speakers was like a mating call with one’s inner rhythm, welcoming any and all to the dance floor that lay opposite of her. Her eyes browsed through the people that had heeded the call of the music, she saw that most were dressed as if their purpose was to compliment the décor.

She returned to look upon the bartender, who appeared ready to make the drink of her choice. “Strawberry Margarita please.” The woman behind the bar got right to work on making her drink. Falesyia watched as her hair bobbed with her every movement. She was a pretty woman who Falesyia guessed was about the same age as herself. The hue of her red hair perhaps slightly lighter than her own. Of course it was hard to tell for sure given the lighting of their surroundings.

“Thank you.” Falesyia replied when given her drink. She slid a fifty dollar bill towards the woman’s hand on the bar while she continued “This shall cover my drinks for the night.” She took a sip of her drink through the straw, pleasantly surprised that it did not taste of cheap tequila.

((OOC: Thanks Ghanima for giving me an invitation of sorts! I’m sorry, I tried to think of something to say in character that was deeper than “get me a drink”, but didn’t succeed to well. Oh well, she’s still approachable.))

((OOC)) Hope you don't mind Ada butting in. If you do feel free to ignore her, she'll get over it. :D

((OOC: Nope, don’t mind at all. I welcome it.))

As soon as Falesyia noticed the quality of her drink she spotted a woman who seemed to not be happy with her seat at the bar. The woman with long dark hair strolled closer to Falesyia, her long leather coat sending a gentle breeze over Falesyia’s crossed legs as she passed. The fact that she had just been sitting a few seats down before coming to sit on the other side of her made it painfully obvious that she was interested in Falesyia’s presence.

It was almost as if she was warning Falesyia that she was being watched. She imagined the woman was a regular here, perhaps she had a good reason to be interested in the newer patrons, perhaps she was just plain nosey. “Jack and Coke please” the woman ordered. Her choice of drink obviously more rough around the edges than Falesyia’s went hand in hand with their obvious difference of taste in clothes. It was as if her order deliberately highlighted the fact that folks dressed like she was, were not normal around here.

Being quite well versed in the tactics that owners used to find out who people were in their establishments, she decided she would make things simple for the woman and soon prove that she had no ulterior motive for being here.

She turned in her chair, her back now to the bar. Her eyes lingered on the people that were dancing as she spoke, “Was your other seat lumpy, or do you just have a better view of things on this side?” Falesyia's brow raised as she turned her head to face the woman. Her words were not spoken as a threat, she was just stating the obvious and saving her from having to initiate a conversation.

((OOC: GAH! I’m sorry. lol She’s not coming off very sweet right now. She thinks you’re on the owners’ pay roll and doing the job of checking her out. I know you’re not. But she doesn’t.))

((OOC)) LOL, it's alright. Ada's calmed down a bit since before, I promise she won't throw you across a fountain.

“Ah I see, That must be his then, right?” Jessica turned to look at the painting behing her. It was his, beautiful none the less. “Beautiful piece, albeit dark and broody." Annie shivered. She didn't think it was that cold in the club, but then again, Annie was human.

“I was an artist once... A singer." Jessica turned at the thought. She remembered her voice. Goregous. "Been a long time. And now, here I am tending bars.” Annie stopped and helped another woman at the bar. Kine, by the smell of her.

"It doesn't have to be that way you know. Why don't you ask Valerian for a gig? He can't be that much of stickler, especially to a fellow artist."

((Sorry, in a hurry. Shared computers you know. BTW, Welcome Shenanigans! I hope you enjoy yourself.))

As Falesyia turned her head to look on the woman who had sat just a few seats from her, she saw the hint of a smirk on the woman’s lips. At least she was amused. Falesyia thought to herself.

“Consider it a more interesting, if not slightly… louder view.” She stated as she swirled her drink and barely sipped it. Falesyia had returned her head to look over the dance floor, a smirk of her own coming to her lips.

“I’m Ada, by the way. And you are…?” Falesyia turned in her chair to completely face the woman now. She held out her right hand for a handshake, the universal signal of truce. “Falesyia.” She answered the woman in a matter of factly air. Her voice was now completely void of the slightly sarcastic tone it had just been filled with.

“I'm obviously new here,” Falesyia kept talking while she twisted in her seat to get her drink off the bar. If Ada was really as interested in her as she thought she was, she would make things easy for her. “Just needed to get out after a long day of work.” She added, taking a drink of her margarita. “I imagine you’re here often?”

(OOC: lol I'm glad my gal won't be getting in a fight during her first few minutes of creation. And thank you elektra... I'm sure I will. ))

((ooc: I wanted to apologize and let Atropa and Elektra know my posts will probably have a small delay; some unpleasant events IRL rather fried my creativity. I hope to have a reply in tomorrow though))

(((ooc: No worries Ghanima. Take your time. And thanks for letting us know. Hope everything works out.)))

(((ooc: Will RP Valerian tomorrow, and Adrien as well if XsnowdropX still hasn't replied by then.

Everyone - I have just added a new section to the website http://www.vintagestars.com/river/VtM/; a downloads one. There you'll be able to download my three characters, and you can also submit your own sim versions of your characters to me to add to it, if you feel like it.)))

((Cool! I'll get started on Jessica!))

Falesyia’s eyes alternated from roaming the dance floor to looking at Ada while she talked. All the while holding the glass in her hand as if it were an extension of her arm. “Actually, I used to be a regular, but this is the first time I’ve been back here in a while. I was…” Ada had abruptly stopped her sentence as if she had been distracted. “…out of town for some time.” Falesyia gave a slight nod of her head to show that she was listening. It seems she had been wrong, and this woman was not on the payroll as she had thought.

“Long day of work huh? What do you do for a living?” Falesyia had seen the question coming, in fact she had sort of baited it. It was the same exact thing she did time after time, place after place. If you mentioned work, they’d always ask what you do. Falesyia never answered the question with a hundred percent truth. She didn’t exactly lie about it though. “I work at a casino downtown called The Dive.”

There was her stock answer. She wasn’t fool enough to go around advertising she owned such things, for doing so would be asking for trouble. No, instead she did a simple statement such as that. Sometimes it would get people interested, and if she was lucky, she’d get a new customer. And like normal, she’d follow it up with taking another drink, giving Ada plenty of time to continue the conversation.

((OOC: :laugh: Thanks for the laugh Penny! I love Ada’s reaction!))

“Hmmm… It must be one hell of a casino job, to pay enough for that.” Ada nodded her head towards her. Falesyia was grateful she had already swallowed the drink she took, as Ada’s response had been rather blunt compared to what she usually heard. Most times people would just give her an odd look, but rarely went so far as to question her about it.

Falesyia smiled. “Yes, well… not everyone who sits at the tables is a customer. Many times if a man has acquired the attention of a woman like myself, he’ll continue his run when otherwise he would not." She turned in her seat once more to place the glass back onto the bar. "Regardless of their status, married, single, poor, rich, all men seem to have one thing in common. They pride themselves on showing off in front of women.” Her smile appeared on her face, as if convey she knew Ada could understand that. Men did tend to be so focused on proving themselves where women were not so inclined. Really Falesyia had been speaking the truth. As she had spent many a night attached to the side of a newcomer in Posh. It made them feel lucky, or perhaps special.

“How about you?” Falesyia asked quickly, wishing to turn the tables. “What do you find yourself doing during the day?”

((OOC: I realize that is a very dumb question for a vampire. But… what can I say? She’s human!))