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Sayo jolted awake in his cheap bed startled. He looked around his room with narrowed eyes. His muscles were tense and fangs bared. However, there was no danger. He growled at himself and at his stupidity. "That damned nightmare again," he mumbled to himself and got up without looking at the digital clock beside him and went to his restroom where he attempted to straighten his spiked hair to no avail.

It shouldn't bother him since the fang bangers and others at the Bloody Marry seemed to like it, but it still annoyed him. He hated the fact that his glamour was being wasted at the bar where humans flocked and waited in line for him to bite their pretty little throats. He never bit a single one, but always teased them with his fangs.

He went back to his room and looked at the clock which read 7:00 A.M. "Day? How could it be day?" he opened his drawer and pulled out his phone and looked at the date. "You have to be kidding me! I slept through the night? Oh man... Alexis will have a fit that I wasn't there last night." Why had he slept through the whole night? He sat down and thought about it before realizing he had been up the day before trying to finish a painting he had started.

"Damn painting," he muttered to himself. He didn't want to loose his sining job just because of a stupid hobby. He was older than Alexis, but if she was angry, Leonide might step in and that wouldn't go well for Sayo. Since he had missed feeding on his host because of his slumber, Sayo opened a second drawer where he kept a packet of TruBlood AB - type. He opened the package and drank the contents.

Once finished, he threw it out and sat down on his bed again and made sure to set his alarm and tried to go back to sleep. He wasn't tired, but he wanted to be awake at his job and apologize for his absence and hopefully not be fired.

The mall was crowded and there seemed like there was no such thing as a endless crowd. But for him, the mall was packed with all kinds of street races. You had your punk rockers hanging out near the food court. The emo kids hung out by the hot topic.

The happiest type of the street races where the preps that where into the two hundred dollar pants. So many human races, it was almost a big joke . Wait it was all a joke. The multiple races of myth walked around in day light and night time with these single minded parasites.

Grunting, he passed the bad thoughts away and started walking towards the bars where the real action as to be found. But before he could get there some dork had gone and bumped into him. Taking the hit he would step back a few and say." Watch it kid, you never know who might get sprung."Flashing a sinister smile, he walked away from him and headed again on route to the greatest place on the earth.

Hello Booze land and hello babes. The sun was up and there was nothing he could do about it. He felt kinda uncomfortable on the sunlight but he just had to deal with it. A cute girl had walked passed him and was heading to the same place as him but he had no idea which bar she wanted.


Laughing gentle he was about to enter the land of oz. The promised land of the sinners and fornicates. How sweet thou smelled, and how delicious did thee taste. That was how life should have been like. Take what you want and never give it back. But who could control Salvage De Legion, a man, no a insane history mythological story passed down from generation to generation. He was nothing but a big story, the changelings where nothing more then a nightmare that came and went in a child head and no one cared to seek them out.

The entire 60 minutes of what seemed a fraction less, it was time for the young waitress to head back into the mobbed cage to wait on more strangers. Maudette's Bar & Grill. The young brunette sighed, feeling a bit dizzy. A good guess would probably be secondhand from Henry's marajuana. She didn't really mind it, as the toxin kept her mind off of the random courses of chronic depression she was still trying to fight off. Wearing that sweet, pre-rehersed smile once again, her next line of business was the customer that just arrived. Prepared with her clicked ball point pen and memo pad, she walked up to the near entrance table the male customer sat at.

The vibes Hana got from the man had seemed calm and simple, so she didn't dread waiting on him like she usually would with the other strangers that came in. She even enjoyed the fact she was his server, considering he was obviously an attractive man. Hana giggled a bit before asking him what he wanted to order, Casually twirling a few of her long, chestnut waves that rested on the top of her breast. Maybe it was the marajuana that amped up her mood, but she didnt think much of her behavior. Locking her eyeliner coiled emerald eyes onto him, her pre rehersed smile had actually faded to a real one. Since living in Greenville, somehow she inherited a bit of polite, old fashioned accent.
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"Evenin' to you. My name is Hana and I will be your server fah the day. What can I get cha'?"
Hana asked with a bubbly tone of voice, waiting for the customer's response.

His mama sometimes told him, stuck somewhere between laughter and exasperation, that Joe was two parts kitty-cat and one part human and not the other way around. He didn't possess the same kind of social filter most folks did; the one that told them to keep their heads down and not to make a stir.

So when Hana stepped up to his booth, pen tip poised on her mint green guest check pad, Joe took his time looking up. His gaze started just beyond the toe of his boot, where her legs appeared in his field of vision, and dragged slowly up, assessing as it went, slowing on all the more interesting bits of a woman. When he finally looked her in the eyes, his expression was neutral, as if this were a perfectly acceptable code of conduct. He didn't even have the decency to flash a sheepish smile.

"Hana," he started out, his own Texas drawl thick as molasses and just as slow moving. "I'll have the eight ounce sirloin, cooked mid rare. Mashed potatahs and broccoli on the side." His attention skittered away from her momentarily, over her shoulder to the bar, where he studied the handles on the tap. "And a pint of Stella Artois, if ya would. Unless you pour 'em tall. Then bring me one of those, instead."

He folded his menu then and shoved it back into the caddy, the way it'd been before. His hand paused before drawing away and he looked up at her, eyes abruptly gone narrow with seriousness. "How's the pie here?"

The curvacious brunette smiled to the man, unconcously running her hand that held to the pen to the side of her tight black denim-wearing hip. Gazing emerald eyes onto the man as he spoke, she was determined to remember his distinct orders to the tee.
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"Maudette's pie is probably one of the most flavorful you ever did taste. Fresh out of the oven. I'd reccomend blueberry. Our cooks makes sure yah tastebuds reach their satisfaction peak with the tiny whoppin' of all natural whipped cream on top. But ofcourse, thats fah you to judge. Care to have it?"
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She asked with a hint of perkiness in the tone she spoke in. She didn't really understand it, but she actually felt positive so far in the day.

Joe's upper lip tugged up into a faint curl of distaste. "Make it apple and leave off the cream, would ya?" Ideally, a slice of apple pie would come steaming hot with a side scoop of vanilla ice cream, but he didn't want to kick up a fuss. Pie was pie, as far as he was concerned, and even when it wasn't all that good, it was still one of the best things about walking around on two legs ninety-five percent of the time, trumped only by sex, cold beer on a muggy day, and criminally fast cars.

Before Hana could ask him more questions, further delaying the arrival of his beer--the size of which was still in question--he tipped his head back against the wall and shut his eyes. He'd slept most the day away and still found himself heavy-lidded and lethargic at odd moments throughout the day. And if he wasn't playing the role of the sleepy-eyed tom, then he was uncharacteristically restless. Older weres felt the pull of the moon less keenly, but Joe was more attuned to the lunar cycle than a woman to her uterus. This was how he found himself stone sober and half asleep at Maudette's in the middle of the day.

Half asleep, of course, because when he felt the rush of passing air and heard the server's footsteps making their retreat, he slitted one eye open so just a sliver of reflected light could be detected below the lid and watched her retreat with an appreciative smile.

Nodded to the man before walking away with a smile, heading quickly to the counter yelling her new order to the cooks. She slapped down the memo sheet for them as well. After the pending order was taken care of, she ran to the bar area and made him his drink herself. She poured it in a tall stine with the engraved text in script that read " Maudette's Bar & Grill" on the front.
The brunette then poured a glass of ice water, putting both beverages on her round tray, heading back to his table. "He's much more demanding than the other customers, so why am I not helplessly aggravated yet?" She thought to herself with a giggle. She giggled.. but why?
The curvacious waitress hurried back in no time to the male customer's table, setting his beverages in front of him while she smiled to him with rouge lips.
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"One 20 ounce stein of Stella Artois and a glass of water to ease yah stomach from the afterburn."
Hana said with a friendly tone.
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"I'll be right back with yah meal. Thankyou fah yah' patience."
She smiled with her round serving tray held to her left side, walking away after that.

Joe sat back with his twenty-ounce, taking long, lazy pulls off it and toying with the idea of stepping out the front door just long enough to have a cigarette. But the beauty of ordering his hunk of beef mid-rare was that it took roughly six minutes to cook, and with the place filled up to half capacity, it wasn't going to take much longer than that for his food to arrive. So instead, he savored the taste of his Stella, licking his lips each time the glass clinked back to the tabletop, and let his mind wander.

The steak arrived, cooked to perfection, and Joe sat up and planted his feet flat on the floor. He offered her an appreciative nod and when she asked--as all servers asked, the world over--if there was anything else she could get for him, he shook his head and tucked in.

He was the impatient sort of diner, who only cut one piece of steak at a time and sawed off the next as he was gnawing on the last. Sometimes he'd scoop a square of meat through his potatoes, or spear a piece of broccoli on the same forkful, and shove it all in together, washing it down with a healthy swallow of beer before his food had been properly chewed.

Two parts jag, indeed.

When he was nearing the end of his meal and there was nothing but a few bites of potato and the grease of the sirloin pooled at the edge of his plate, he signaled for the check. It was getting late, after all, and soon it would be dark, and since the vamps had started running rampant, he liked to get to his final destination before the sun completely set.

Hana heard the male customer's call for a check, and with that, she went behind the main desk where the Maudette's orders are caculated by a computer instead of the old cash register. It was 2009 after all, so society was progressing with their technology. After a few seconds, out came the check. The brunette waitress placed it in a tiny black check holder, making her way back to his table with the little feminine swag she always had in her walk. With another greeting rouge lipped smile, Hana placed the tiny black book in front of him, looking into his eyes for a breif moment.
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"Thankyou. Hope you enjoyed your stay."
She said politely.
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After that she gathered the dishes that remained on his table, placing them back onto that ever famous round serving tray she had with her to do so, smiling once again to him before slowly departing towards the resturaunt's kitchen.
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Marcus pulled on the wrench with a monumental effort, waiting what seemed like an eternity for the “click” that the bolt was torqued to spec. He'd spent the last 4 hours pulling a rusty civic apart to replace the clutch. A civic that he'd indicated to the owner wasn't worth the rubber it was rolling on more than once. But the man had insisted that it be repaired. So, Marcus did his job. As he seemed to always do, just bite his lip, say “yes Bud”, and go to work.

Bud's wasn't that bad though, as far as shops went. He'd worked at a few when he lived up in the great white north, and this particular one was the most easy going. A small, downtown 5 bay shop that looked like it'd been around about as long as cars themselves. There was a small used car operation that Bud ran as out of the front office, made a few bucks on the side buying up beaters or wrecks and having the boys in the shop fix 'em up. The prices were fair, and the pay wasn't bad either. Marc had enough cash to pay his rent, play with his truck, buy smokes, and get loaded every weekend. If that wasn't decent pay he didn't know what was.

Marcus put the wrench back in its place in the cabinet, put its socket away in its drawer, and tossed the rag he was using into the bin. He headed over towards the wash basin, and squirted some of the orange smelling pumice cleaner solution onto his hands, which looked like they would belong to a coal miner.

“ Headin' home fuzzy?”, Bud yelled across the shop.

“ Yeah, I just finished on the Honda, you can tell Jake its ready tomorrow. Mrs.Reynolds' Buick is another story”. He said across the shop while he washed his hands. Bud started walking over.

“ What do you mean?” he asked.

“ The trans is blown. She's gonna need to have it re built.” He said simply, finishing up with the basin and drying his, now clean, hands.

“ I'm tappin' out, I'll talk to yah tomorrow Bud. Take 'er easy.” He said, heading to his locker in the break room. They were supposed to have some sort of new guy coming on board soon, he'd heard about him through some of the other employees, but his shifts had never lined up so he hadn't yet met him. He spun his lock, pulled open the door with a nails-on-chalkboard sound that it made, and grabbed his jacket and lunchbox, and keys and cell, then headed out.

He walked to his truck, put the key in the door, popped it open and tossed in his stuff. He sat down, pulled his seat belt over himself and put the key in the ignition. And turned it, causing the truck to roar to life. The cammed 383 barely idled when it was cold, and he had to keep nudging the throttle as he pulled out a smoke, rolled down the window and lit it. Once it was lit, he grabbed the Hurst style shifter, put it into first,and headed for home.

Once he got there, he immediately checked his messages, which there was nothing but telemarketers, then took a shower. Afterward he had no idea what he was going to do. Not overly interested in any of the bars in town, as he'd been to them all...well, all except one. The Bloody Mary was the only place he'd never brought himself to go. Not so much out of fear, if a vampire wanted to kill him there wasn't a whole lot he could do about it, it was more out of a simple lack of interest.

Most people he'd met treated the whole vampire issue like it was something that was a big deal. He never really understood it, maybe it was because of his upbringing, but just because somebody has different dietary requirements and a hypersensitivity to UV doesn't necessarily mean you have to hate them. He shook the mental debate out of his head, deciding to spend the rest of the night inside.

((OOC: I unno how to get him involved...I'll figure out a way somehow. Anybody who wants to conveniently know his cell number can.))

Once she had reached her destination, she held to the tray of used dishes, walking a few feet into the resturaunt's kitchen. She bumped into the 5'10 homosexual cook, Henry who was on his way to wiping down the counter, a clean cloth in his muscular hand.
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"Oh, sorry bout' that"
Hana said with a light laugh.
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"Hah, its alright, Baby girl. You finally off ya feet now?"
He said while holding to her shoulder.
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The young waitress smiled with an exagerated sigh, nodding at the question while she couldnt help but lean back against the wall a bit. Obviously strucken with that worn out feeling that everyone who worked would feel at the end of their day. Her long chestnut hair couldnt help but fall into her face when she sat down at the closest bar stool that was behind the counter. She stretched a bit, tapping her recently manicured nails against the marble. Henry smiled to his co-worker, wiping down the counter around her.
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"So who was the last fool you waited on? I want them' details juicy."
The muscular homosexual said.
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"Eh.. a handsome man who looked no older than 25."
She laughed before continuing on.
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"He ordered alot so he must enjoy the food."
Hana said while laughing a bit to Henry.

Henry smiled with a hand to his hip, wearing a wife beater that indeed exposed his 'pecks'.
His lips puckered as he spoke with a slight shake to his head.
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"Girl, he bettah like the food I slave ovah. I aint the best cook here for nothin' ya know."
Henry smiled to the waitress.
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"Ofcourse you're the best, Henry, doll."
She agreed a bit over exagerated with a laugh.
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"Was he cute?"
The built cook asked.
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"He was indeed a good lookin' man. Maybe if he comes again you can see fah yahself?"
Hana said as she smiled to him.
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The homosexual cook shrugged then, finishing up the counter.

"Mhm.. I'm sure he was if you say so, baby girl..but what I wanna wrap these biceps around is a vampire."
Henry spoke deviously.
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Hana couldn't help but think when she heard the word vampire. A vampire had never came to Maudette's Bar & Grill before, so she wondered what it would be like to actually wait on one.
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"It would be excitin' to have a vampire here at Maudette's.."
The brunette thought out loud.

Henry agreed, also thinking about vampires. Mostly thoughts of how they'd be in his bed, but he soon changed the subject.
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"So did he give yah a good tip?"
He asked the curvacious brunette.
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"Ahah, I still have yet to go pick up his payment. I'll do it after I'm done with the dishes I just brought in."
She responded.

It had happened a while after lunch, before the sun had really moved into afternoon proper. Arranging flowers, Fiona whistled to herself cheerfully, ignoring her grandmother's "Whistling girls and crowing hens, all come to some bad end" that made a vague attempt at coming back to her. That set done, she popped it into the folded bright cardboard container with the waterproof lining and moved up to the front of the shop to put it in the display. That was the last display of the day, and since she was really only there to make things and cover Merry when she wanted a break, she would be done untill closing when she had to sweep up. There'd been a backlog of flowers from yesterday, so she'd not had to make so many today. Just as Fiona was turning away from the window, hair caught up in a messy ponytail, the door chimed and in walked Darryl. He looked fairly unremarkable, one of those brown eyed brown haired boys you saw everywhere and never thought anything of. Fiona felt an irrational urge to leap out of the window action movie style and run till she hit Mexico. But that wouldn't do. She put on a bland smile as he beamed in her direction.

"Hey F-fiona, um, how're you?" he asked, stumbling slightly over her name. If ever I have a man, he will be able to say my name no matter what. Fiona mentally vowed. Then an idea hit her. Whoever said it had to be a male?

"Good actually, I was out last night, and met this really nice girl."

"Oh, um, that's good." Darryl replied. Fiona airily made sure she didn't look at him, arranging one of the boquets and allowing a dopey big grin to spread across her face.

"Yup, I got her number and everything, she's really pretty too," Fiona enthused blissfully. Darryl was starting to look a bit perplexed.

"I really hope I get to see her again, she's just too cute," Fiona gushed, hiding a smirk as she saw the reflection in the window as the lightbulb went on.

"O-oh, um, that's nice, I hope yer real happy with her and all."

Fiona turned around to smile at him radiantly. "So what did you come in for anyway?"

"Er, just to say howdy. I guess I should be going." Bright red, Darryl walked just a little too quickly out of the shop. Figuring she should get a move on with tidying up the back while she felt happy enough to float doing it, Fiona floated away from the window. As she passed the tiller, Merry leaned over and held up a palm. As aunt and neice high-fived, Merry grinned crookedly.

"Not a single lie in there." she commented.

"The best lies are mostly truth," Fiona giggled. She stretched lightly. She'd attempted calling Fletcher's home number, but had gotten the answering machine. Knowing the girl probably lived with others, she'd left an ambiguous message. 'Hi, Fiona here, just thought I'd call and see how you're doing. Here's my numbers by the way, in case they don't show on your answer machine.' If her parents asked who Fiona was, Fletcher seemed capable of a quick bit of tale spinning.

The day that followed her night at Bloody Mary's went by in a blur for Alyssa. It was made up mostly of sneaking to her parents house, shoving boxes into her car, and bringing them home to be unpacked. Once home, she made avoiding their phone calls her sole mission. She knew she was upsetting them by moving out, and chose to deal with her guilt by simply avoiding the whole situation. It was wrong, and she knew that, but conflict and confrontation were things Lyssa liked to avoid. Of course she wasn't proud of her actions, but what could she do?

Lyssa was so guilt ridden that she had even started unpacking the boxes that littered her apartment. Every time her phone would ring, she cringed. And every time her mother's voice would fill the room, asking the question of 'why she was doing this' Lyssa felt a knot form in her stomach.

Sure, moving out was a natural part of growing up, something no one should feel guilty over. Her parents were just overprotective. Who could blame them for wanting to keep their only child safe in such a crazy, mixed up world? Especially after her brother had disappeared at 4 years old. They thought they were doing Lyssa a favor, keeping her close meant they were keeping her safe. Now they were having a hard time understanding why Alyssa wanted to be away from them, it was understandable.

If Alyssa sat and thought about the whole situation any longer, she was going to go insane. Instead, she opted to actually do something. While she still wasn't ready to actually face her parents, she needed to do something to let them know that she hadn't completely fallen of the map.

So, it was the guilt and need to do something that brought her to a flower shop. While she had never gone in before, the two woman who worked there were known for their fantastic arrangements.
"Hello?" Alyssa called out as she entered the shop. Her gray eyes scanned the shop, but no one could be seen, although she did hear movement. "I just need to grab flowers for my mother. Something that says 'I'm sorry, I love you but I have to do this'. If flowers can say all of that..."
Although said out loud, those last few sentences were mainly just Lyssa thinking to herself. Great, now people were going to think she was crazy.

Murdoch awoke slowly from his dreamless sleep. His eye lids blistered and swollen almost entirely shut. His body was stiff and immobile, as though after all these long years rigor had finally set in. He had fallen into sleep sitting up, leaning against a damp concrete wall. He looked down at his lap. Bleary eyed though he was, the brilliant shock of strawberry blonde hair that stuck out from a hole in the blanket shocked him back to reality. "Alexis..." his voice came out hoarse and gravely. He made a futile attempt to shift the sleeping beauty in his arms, but the pain was too great.

There was nothing he could really do. He was helpless, weakened as he had become. A case of Tru Blood was visible about 15 feet from where he was frozen. It didn't matter though, not at this point. He had given Alexis much of his blood, and that pathetic bottled excuse for sustenance would do him no good at this point. He needed real fresh human blood.

He gritted his teeth and let out low growling moan of pain and exasperation. This was the thing he hated most. That feeling of utter helplessness. He suddenly went numb and lost all semblance of time and space. His torturous memories took over.

Winter, 1854. One of the coldest on record. And yet Murdoch had managed to claw through the icy ground. Ten feet down. Broken and battered, blood tears blinding him, his flesh ripped from his body while the onlookers laughed, drunk on their power and the blood of countless innocents. The sound of the silver lined coffin hitting the cold hard ground was almost deafening to one as broken as he was. Kicked hard in the ribs, several of them shattering as he fell onto his back. Howling laughter echoed through the trees as the fifty foot high fire burning behind his captures, caused their silhouettes to appear elongated and terrifying. Monsters out of a childs dream. Like a pack of jackals they circled before grabbing him by the arms, ripping the tendons and muscle, heaving him mercilessly into the coffin. Flesh searing, screams of terror and agony, the terrible sound of dirt being piled atop his tomb.

"Ashes to ashes my friend. Ashes to ashes..." The voice trailed off in Murdochs head.

It wasn't until about an hour or two later, Hana decided to leave the workplace. Even though her shift ended at 10pm sharp, she had always waited for her homosexual friend, Henry, who also worked at Maudette's as one of the cooks. As tired as she was, she wanted to go Greenville's park that was nearby. She would usually go there on her own on friday nights to clear her mind. Alot of the time she went there to sing, considering the neighbors in her apartment building always complained about her japanese vocals that blasted from her amplefied microphone late in the night. So what? She was a recovering insomniac after all, and was saving up to get soundproof padding for her bedroom. Not like the tentants complaints were any sort of threat, but she was polite young lady, a polite young lady who grew tired of adjusting the volume on her amp.

Henry was kind enough to drive the brunette to the park, even offered to stay with her for a while, but she respectfully declined his offer. She felt like she needed to be alone for a while.
After thanking him for the ride, she headed deep into the park's large walkway path, looking for a nearby bench to sit at. Heading further down the path's path, she held to her black tote bag she had with her, soon seeing several streetlight poles that were mounted on both sides of the path. Hana started to see a few benches. Making her way to one of them, she took her green ipod out of her bag, clicking it on as she leant back into a comfortable position against the bench, listening to the song " Where Is Love" by "Round Table feat. Nino". The japanese jazz song calmed her body down as she had been on her feet all day at Maudette's. She adjusted both earphones securely, practicly meditating where she was. The park in Greenville was indeed nice at night, since no one usually went when she did.

Joe did, in fact, leave a decent tip. Workin' people had to stick together; that had always been his philosophy, so he tossed down a neat twenty percent and was gone as the sun was setting. He pulled his bike into a convenient store located on his route home, picked up a sixer of Heineken just to change things up a bit, and rode on home.

He kicked back in his living room, booted feet thrown carelessly up on the coffee table, and switched on the television. It was a waste of a day off, he realized, and night had set before he had accomplished anything more than grabbing a bite to eat and a shower. He blamed the jag and his feline tendency toward sloth. In any case, if there was something worth doing in this town, he had yet to hear about it.

He had work the next day, anyway. Wasn't any point in going out just to crawl from between the sheets, ass early the following morning, to check brakes and switch fluids and jot down VINs and be generally under-worked (but that's what never bothering to license got you) whilst nursing a hangover.

"Well, Seuss, I know how you feel," Joe said to the fat black cat lounging in the armchair across the room. She was looking at him, narrow-eyed and wholly unimpressed with him.

The rest of the afternoon had proven to be quite uneventful. Fletcher had spent an hour or two sitting at the table in the food court fiddling with her new phone. She believed she knew how everything worked now, but she was pretty legit when it came with technology so it hadn't really been a challenge. People watching had turned out to be more fun then she'd originally imagined. Especially at the mall.

It was entertaining to watch a shoplifter, and also observe the scuffle when a security guard chased them halfway around the place before having to stop for a breather. She wasn't a fan of stereotypes but not once today had she spotted a healthy, reasonably fit member of the security team. They really did have too much time on their hands. And she supposed that the easy access to fast food didn't help either.

More time passed and she could see that night had once again come. The mall was now fully illuminated, the only thing hinting at the time was the black world that lay outside of the few windows that littered the place. A person could fool themselves into thinking it was still daytime, so that they could continue their shopping rampage. Fletcher was usually that very person, but not tonight. She had other things to do.

When her taxi arrived she was surprised to see the same man from last night resting comfortably in the drivers seat. It was a strange coincidence, but he appeared to be relieved for some reason. "You're lookin' a lot better miss." He chimed as she slid into the passenger seat. Fletcher smiled politely and responded with a simple, "Yeah, I feel a lot better too."

The car ride went by pretty quickly. It was the least awkward few moments she'd ever spent with a taxi driver. They got talking about the Strip, and then he even went so far as telling her about his family. He was a nice guy, with what sounded to be a beautiful wife and kids. Fletcher felt almost envious. He really couldn't shut up about his children, how wonderful they were. Whenever he wasn't with them he was always talking about them, or at least thinking about them. The same couldn't be said for her own father.

"Hey, thanks for the ride." She said while she tried to find the money for her fare. The driver shook his head and then tipped his hat, "Don't worry about it, I enjoyed talkin' to you though." Fletcher frowned, ususally she would have insisted that he was payed properly but the serene look on his face was something she didn't want to ruin. "I enjoyed talking to you as well, have a good night."

Fletcher had requested to be dropped off a few blocks away from the Bloody Mary. Hopping out of a cab and walking straight into a place like that was hardly an entrance. She could remember this part of town from last night, they'd passed through here on their way to safety. Things had changed because of the rain, but something more serious had also happened.

Vandals? She thought, stopping in front of the shabby old house that now sported a broken window. It didn't look as though it had been vandalized, more like someone had leaped through the window. The landing must have been quite painful indeed. Now Fletcher had never believed in Karma, or 'what goes around comes around', but something compelled her to check this place out.

"Hello?" She called anxiously whilst easing her way in through the window, carefully avoiding any of the remaining shards. Her curiosity was overriding any and all of the common sense she possessed, and she stood uneasily on the other side of the window, peering around the inside of this place.

Murdoch lifted his stubbled chin and cocked his heavy head in the direction of the rickety stairs. He sensed a presence drawing nearer to his house. Most likely just curious local children seeing who could get the closest to vampires creepy house before getting scared and running away.

He had never killed a child, but was teetering on the verge of total and utter desperation at this point. No. He'd sooner lie there and rot than murder an innocent. He lay his chin back down upon his icy cold bare chest. Waiting. That was all he could do now. Just wait.

Whomever was outside was slowly making their way closer. He heard the anxious breathes being drawn. The steady heartbeat growing louder. The dainty footfalls just out side the broken window. He listened intently, wondering who this fresh intruder might be.

"Hello?" The voice was young and most definitely female. Adrenaline began to flood through his body. He slid Alexis off his lap and gently onto the floor. He knew there was no way he could walk so he lay down on his belly and dragged his full weight by the tips of his fingers towards the steps. Nails digging in so deeply that spidery cracks began to form throughout the concrete foundation. Blood tears ran down his face as he clawed and strained with every fiber of his being to reach the bottom step. He lapsed out of consciousness and his forehead hit the the splintering wooden step with an awful crack.' No! Don't loose it now, keep going!!' He managed to raise his torso enough to lurch his way up to the third step. He ignored the gut wrenching noises his broken bones made as they grinded mercilessly against each other. 'Almost there...just a couple more steps'. He figured he could reach the door with one more good heave forward. He laid his full body weight onto his right arm and practically threw himself against the lead door. Perhaps too hard, as he almost tumbled back down those cursed steps. He stopped himself from falling by thrusting his nails deep into the thick metal door which caused a sound much like a car being crushed in a junk yard. The dear young thing, were she still out there, was bound to have heard that.

Fletcher blinked in surprise at the noise. It had come from behind her. Upon further investigation she realized it was a basement. Had someone locked an animal down there? She'd almost managed another word before someone rudely interrupted her. One moment she was upright, the next she was sprawled out on the dirty wooden floors, the wind knocked straight from her lungs.

Immediately she began to regret her random act of kindness, pushing any thoughts of Karma straight from her mind and into the trash. After taking a moment to re-organise her thoughts, she propped herself up on one elbow and turned her head to cast a glare in her attacker's direction. As soon as she saw him her heart plummeted in her chest, and she felt as though she was going to be sick all over this strangers house.

Shit. Her mind seemed to squeak while she practically cringed at the furious man towering over her. This situation was going to take more sweet talking than even she could stomach.

"Léonide." She purred, managing to flip herself over so that her back was now resting on the floor. Fletcher was going to compliment him first off, but a streak of rebellion emerged. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" She sat up straight now, folding her arms across her chest in defiance. "I knew you'd be offended but this is ridiculous. Criticism should be accepted with gratitude, not stalked and thrown to the ground!"

Thinking back to the broken window, her eyes widened in fury, "Did you break the window as well? You really trashed this person's house, just to get me alone? And what, or who have you got locked in the basement?" By this time she was back on her feet and just inches away from the vampire, like a mirror that was reflecting all of his anger right back at him.

Fletcher brought a hand to her throat and stroked it tenderly, all the while staring accusingly at Léonide. "Apologise, and then let the poor thing out. No wonder your kind earns such a bad name for themselves. Assaulting a woman in order to retain your pride... unbelievable." What was even more unbelievable was the fact that Fletcher was talking to a vampire in this manner. She still had the bruises from yesterday, and the dull aching had yet to cease. But she was growing tired of always being the vulnerable one, the weak one, the submissive one... well, no more.