Reignhart run like me, like hell, like everybody else
#1

nightshade
@Raylers 4 crisscross
outfit but no bag or glasses and he's got the coat off



Kidd was slowly making his rounds on the local social scene. He'd roved further than here on a lot of nights, but Nightshade was so close to home that it seemed stupid to overlook it. Not entirely his scene, as the attention at a club like this went outward towards the entertainment rather than among the patrons themselves. But he couldn't deny that there was some appeal in watching from time to time, even if no one was watching back.

He'd found himself a cozy spot at a velvet-red booth meant for two. He was alone but didn't presently mind it, sipping on a Chardonnay. The atmosphere was both sultry and lively, and he molded to it, becoming a part of it as it seemed to demand. The inaction made him a little lazy, drifting on a sensation that was not sleepy but certainly relaxed him.

This place seemed new, he decided. Or else it was very, very well maintained. There was very little wear on the tables, and all the fabric--and there was a great deal of it--still had its luster. It reminded him a bit of his current home. Pristine, a canvas to be carefully maintained for whatever was to come.

His attention had wandered now from entertainment to the people who were watching the same show. A lot of men, especially older men. But that wasn't all, and he was curious about the sorts of people who lingered here with less obvious motivations.
#2

yes minus weird bag thing



Yuna's was an unusual face in the monotony of middle-aged male visages that marveled at the wonders on stage. She appeared as a young female, but very clearly not a dancer or any sort of waitress. Often, she received glances from patrons that gave her the impression that they assumed she must be lost or adventurous. Too often, that resulted in the assumption that she was the kind of clueless young woman that was easily persuaded into a drink and a fuck.

Yuna was adept at redirecting unwanted male attention. She had many methods, and many tools at her disposal, but it took skill to know which to use in what circumstance. Tonight, she was being consistently trailed by a patron whom she saw often, and whom she knew tipped well. He was drunk, and heavy handed in his approach. It would have been heartbreakingly easy to dismiss him from the premises and ensure he never stepped foot inside again. But, losing his patronage would only hurt her. So, she sought other means of dissuading him from attempting to secure himself something warm to stick his cock in tonight.

A quick, sharp strike to his pride.

So, she focused her gaze on the handsome young psychic that sat alone. Certain that the cretinous patron was watching her every move, Yuna feigned a familiar smile, and slunk toward the intimate booth. As if having been invited to join him, Yuna sat neatly across from the young man, and extended an icy hand to coil like a serpent around his. Rose eyes on his, she commanded in a soft coo, "Greet me as if I am a lover." No matter if this man had no interest in serving a purpose in her miniature scheme, she readied herself for whatever obliging display he would perform.


i cannot believe her. success

#3
He noticed her movement toward him only as her slight form was within range of settling into his space. His eyes widened slightly in pleasant surprise as the woman took the spot across from him as if she had been meant to be there all along. Mistaken identity, or boldness? Either way, it was easy to look at her, to search out her gaze to get a glimpse of what was going on in her mind in that moment.

Hers was a doe's face with a hawk's eyes, and he had nary a second to settle on this impression before she had her command on her tongue. The cold hand taken with some intention he could not read yet, though...

The request was strange, and it stuck in his head as such, yet he found there was no hesitation in compliance, the novelty of... amusement or else just some marvelous wonder that some pretty young thing would say such a thing. It was for the best that there was a table between them as he leaned into it with interested grace. For that moment, that greeting, she had his undivided attention. "Hello there, sugar, about time you joined me," he said, hand kept and apparently happily so.

Too far to kiss her in greeting, unless, of course, she obliged his lean and the way his eyes drifted to her lips for a moment.
#4
Sugar. Pet names were detestable, but perhaps worse than being called an infant or some sort of soft animal, it was being named after some sort of food. Sugar, cupcake, honey, muffin. Disgusting. She was nothing to be devoured. But she smiled as if it made her entire night to be cooed at by this man who's hands were too soft.

Yuna caught the drifting eyes, and in the moment, she made the decision to oblige to the searching gaze. Perhaps a surprise, but she could feel the other man's eyes on her, and the kiss would be a satisfactory knife twist in his gut. So, she leaned simply forward, and if he did not reel away on some second thought, she accepted a short-lived kiss of greeting. Hers was cold and passionless in return, and likely would feel much like kissing a corpse, but she made a point not to linger.

Sinking back into her seat, she withdrew her hands to fold them neatly in her lap, and glanced pointedly over at the middle aged ape. He caught her eye, but looked away ashamedly. Victory. Smiling to herself, she relished the satisfaction, momentarily allowing herself to forget the man turned pawn that sat before her.
#5
Short-lived indeed, and very... odd. It struck him, then, that she didn't seem inclined to follow through. She had used the word lover, he was certain of it, her words still fresh in his mind, but she took the gesture she'd asked for and let it slip away as quick as her hand removed from his. His own remained on the table as he sank back. Not upset, Kidd was just... perplexed, if he was honest.

"What was that about?" he asked her, the suggestion gone from his autonomy as quickly as it had come, the greeting passed. He didn't understand her game--he had given her what she'd wanted and while she smiled, it wasn't at him.
#6
Then, she was reminded of the man before her, because he spoke. She wrenched her head out of her own self-congratulations, but her smile did not fade as she placed her gaze back onto the young man. "You saved me a patron tonight." Yuna informed him easily. She would have to wipe his memory of her heavy-handed interjection, but she wasn't so quick to do it. He smelled heavily of the perfume that would draw any vampire to predatory rationale. He would be an easy meal, if she played the right cards.
#7
"A patron?" he asked, not entirely following, but wondering... his eyes wandered out, but the man that she had chased away was not obvious enough to him to draw any information from, already dissolved back into the sea of bodies in the red backdrop. "Well, I'm happy to have helped," he said, trying to figure out if he believed himself even as he said it. Hadn't minded her sudden attention, to be sure, even if the cool method had muddled some of the distinct satisfaction.
#8
"Mm." She sounded in response, her focus sinking down around him now. He smelled wonderful. A psychic, certainly. What could this one do? "I appreciate it." She continued, settling forward on one arm, the other hand coming to prop her head up by the chin. "He pays well, but he was too interested in pursuing more than a dance for my taste." She explained, finding little harm in telling the man what kind of plan he'd taken part in, however unwillfully.
#9
"Ah," he said as his understanding drew up. He had been a smoke screen, apparently deemed harmless enough for a woman to save herself unwanted attention. The physical embodiment of "Sorry, I have a boyfriend."

Not his favorite role, but it had gotten her to his table. Even as he sat back and continued to watch her with some underlying interest, his fingers traced the base of his wine glass.

"Perhaps worth staying a bit longer, then. Make sure he's really lost the scent."
#10
Eager, this one. If she were in a worse mood, she may have punished him for being such an opportunist. A young woman searching for help to escape a creepy man, only to fall into the clutches of another. How miserable. She supposed she could not expect more from the types of men that visited her establishment. That being said, she was in good spirits, and he was a promising meal.

"That would be wise, wouldn't it?" She agreed, and shifted to comfortably lean in her seat, eyeing him with a near predatory gaze. "What can you do? Other than play a loving boyfriend." She questioned, blunt about it, but intent on playing fellow psychic. Under the guise of leading him away to play with powers, it would be easy to make him into a swift meal.
#11
Kidd didn't mind that gaze. Maybe he even found it flattering.

And blunt as she was, he didn't actually understand her intended point. 'Loving boyfriend' made him smirk and laugh faintly, a shake of his head. "Plenty. Depends on what you want, I guess." He always played to the person at hand, because he had no interest in attention that wasn't real. He'd make her stay because she wanted to, and not because he'd trapped her with some clever ploy.

"Want a drink?" he offered, completely capable of providing at least that. More than he realized, of course.
#12
Oh, dear, he was dull. Unless he didn't know he was magical. How exciting would that be, to be the one that helped him discover it. What if it was something useful? She had a psychic that she would be more than willing to introduce him to, if that was the case.

But, she was getting ahead of herself.

The offer was met with a small lift of her hand, her excuse easy as, "I don't drink while I'm working." In case he hadn't grasped that she did, in fact, work here. More than that, but she suspected being humble would get her further.

"What about... in the way of magic?" She asked, erring on flirtatious as she leaned forward, interested.
#13
Working. Go figure. It was too bad, really, because he knew how to keep someone occupied with a glass of something and a lot of idle chatter. Seemed, though, in spite of being on the job--whatever that was--she was willing to indulge in the conversation even if the buzz was off the table.

She leaned in, he leaned in as well, eyes narrowed in suspicion. How would she know anything about that? He wasn't even sure what he did was magic so much as some... talent. It wasn't flashy, just practical. Innate to him. He'd never met anyone like himself, mostly because he didn't really tend to talk about it. Too much of what he did was not above board. And he didn't like sharing what was his if he wasn't going to get something out of it.

As such... "Do I seem like a magician?"

It wasn't playing stupid so much as simply skirting to try and find the angle to figure out what she was getting at, or if she was just... some lucky guesser who was just flirting and looking for a little magic back at his place.
#14
Cheeky. He was lucky she was feeling playful tonight.

"I have an eye for... extraordinary things." She confirmed, a smile twisting the corners of her lips upward. She folded her hands elegantly before her, a steeple of ivory tipped with red that matched the crushed velvet of her blazer.
#15
To his ears, his understanding, it was all just superfluous banter. Flirting and feeling each other out in a way that wasn't entirely by the book, but that just made it more interesting. There was no way she knew what he was capable of, after all, unless she'd witnessed it for herself. And he didn't really tend to make a show of it--hard to say who you could trust to not rat on you. So she figured he was extraordinary because he had money to sit here and idle his time over expensive wine and a pretty, willing face.

Right?

"You must be pretty extraordinary yourself, then."

Inane but willing to let her prove it was more than just him trying to flatter her.
#16
How flattering.

She smiled, "I will show you mine, if you show me yours." She bargained with easy confidence. It would be as easy as toying with the alcohol in his bloodstream. Drunkening him, then sobering him. He would forget it all at the end of their time together, anyway.
#17
It was too easy to agree. "Okay," he said, going into the pool feet first without really knowing if it was hot or cold or even really water. "How do you propose we... do this, then." His weight remained forward, gaze interested. He was a little lost as to the finer details of this engagement, but he was fairly good at improvising on the fly.

All of this much preferable to letting her wander away from his attention.
#18
Miserably easy. It did help when her target was thinking with a smaller, lesser brain hidden beneath the table.

"Hm," She mused, eyes narrowing languidly, "For you, because you helped me... follow me," She straightened suddenly, and turned to slip off of the satin cushion with the expectation of him following her. If he did, she intended to lead him through the haze of the club, toward the back that was guarded by burly men. Down the hall, past a red rope, and into a Red Room designated for private dances. That was, if he did follow all of that way without asking so many questions that she grew annoyed with him.
#19
Oooh, a prize for helping. He chuckled beneath his breath at the silliness of his own thought, but he didn't hesitate in getting up to join her any more than he had hesitated in agreeing. One last sip at his wine and then he left that--the loss, negligible. His brow raised at the bouncers as they went deeper into this lair she apparently had plenty of influence in, but he was quiet. The best way to get anywhere, he knew, was to pretend like you belonged there. And asking questions did not exude confidence.

Only when they were where she'd deigned to take him did he really stop to look around, let himself be impressed by her choices. "I take it you basically get to do what you want around here...?"

Not a bad thing. Not a bad thing at all.
#20
The red room lived up to its name. Yuna found the human looked better in this lighting. Perhaps it was the hunger talking. Her gums threatened to betray her, fangs pleading with her resolve. But she could be patient when she wanted to be. So, she glanced over her shoulder at him with a soft smile at the question, and gestured vaguely around, "I would hope so. I own it all."
#21
It wasn't really a suspicion he'd had. Some slight woman, fleeing a patron into his arms? The owner? It was a curious twist, but he could see it on her now that she'd said it.

And here he was, somehow landed squarely into VIP treatment. He gravitated close to her person, not touching or making any attempt to make this more physically flirty. She'd done what she'd wanted once when she'd sat down across from him, and he'd love to see if she'd do it again now that it wasn't just a performance. Kidd remained steady in knowing what he wanted, what he was willing for, but there was too much satisfaction to be found in confirming just how mutual that was.

So.

"Well, color me pleasantly surprised. Does the owner of this fine establishment get a name, or does she want to remain mysterious and ephemeral?"
#22
She did not mind his proximity. Revelled in it, truly. He did smell very nice. And, he was behaving himself, keeping his hands to himself. She lead him to a couch, which she gestured for him to take a seat at, while she remained lingering before him. One hand extended to trace the satin of the arm of the couch, neatly manicured nails raking darker lines into it where the fine material was upturned.

He had an expansive vocabulary that she supposed he wanted her to be impressed by. She found that notion more charming than the words he wove. "I'll let you guess it when we've shown each other our magic." She suggested, "Would you like me to go first?" This was a typical position to helm, guiding an unsure man through an adventurous experience.
#23
Sitting, he quickly had little to look at in the room. With it all red as it was, soon the only object of focus he had was... her. Which was, inevitably, the point. He let himself smile, white-toothed and lax.

Considering he wasn't so sure what she was digging for, an example would go a long... long way. Surely. So he'd let her set the outer edges of the boundaries so he knew what the play space actually looked like. "If you would be so sweet," he urged, pleased at the offer.
#24
So eager. She wondered how intoxicated he already was, and how much of it was just himself. There was only one way to find out. Yuna slunk toward him, approaching languidly. A slender hand extended, moving to press the pads of her fingers just beneath his chin. She kept her own slightly lifted as she angled his face upward.

It would be hard to tell in the lighting that her eyes blushed into a rosy gold as she focused on him. In her mind's eye, she visualized his veins, his bloodstream, the chemicals that flooded through them.

Like dousing a fire, she sought to snuff the alcohol's influence. Like an invisible dial, she turned everything down a few notches. Not entirely sober, but notably less than whatever high he'd been riding before.
#25
He wasn't incredibly intoxicated. Just enough to be, perhaps, more pleasant in general. He was the sort to drink socially and on his own, so... he knew how to handle himself well, and tonight had been less about the drinking than it was about the scenery. And now... her.

Still, the pleasant buzz had been steady, and as she touched his face and willed him to lift his chin, he felt no trepidation, no wonder beyond what he'd already expressed. What could she possibly be doing...?

And it wasn't at all obvious at first, but as she took the influence out of his system and his mind filtered clearer, a slight sharpness came to his gaze and he squared up, giving her a skeptical look. "Wait, what are you...?"

Was this her? What sort of magic trick was that? And to what end? Was there something in the air, some oil or miracle chemical that could dilute the effects of alcohol? He didn't even feel poorly for it, just... strange at the sudden absence as the edges of the wine's effects were deeply dulled.
#26
Yuna watched the sobriety wash over his face, her lower lip jutting out a touch as his expression puzzled. She waited, and as the question fell from his lips, she flashed a grin. Then, like a switch, she reversed it all. An invisible dial, which she turned quickly, looking to sweep him into a wave of intoxication beyond where he'd been to begin with. Of course, not to the point of belligerent, or worse, sickly.
#27
The grin made him feel toyed with, and for a brief, sober moment, he found himself with a fresh bud of annoyance. The lack of response that he could make sense of creased his brow and narrowed his eyes, but then she let the intoxicants flood back with interest and his eyes widened and he wavered. Unsteady, suddenly, his hand reached for her wrist as if he might anchor himself there, or maybe it was more a lost thought that he might stop her from doing whatever it was that she did.
#28
It was really all very appetizing. She glanced down at his warm hand as it wrapped around her wrist, hearing the way his pulse quickened to pump the toxin through his bloodstream. "Be calm. You are only drunk." She instructed him, still smiling.
#29
It wasn't funny, but he laughed. It was a bewildered noise, a man who didn't understand and was too lost in his own head to puzzle it out.

"Didn't..." Think. "Drink that much, don't... think." And yet it felt like he had. Not so much he couldn't function, but certainly right up on the edge where he might even consider he'd had too much to safely get himself home. But he was better at pacing that that. This wasn't him, this was her, but he couldn't decide why. Forgotten time? Something in her touch? Maybe it only felt like drunk but was something else. People were very creative with chemicals.
#30
Well, at least he was not an angry drunk. His laugh was endearing enough to maintain her smile as he puzzled through what was happening to him. "Yes, but drank enough for me to manipulate it." She informed him helpfully.

"That is my power. I can control things like alcohol, or poison." Some might argue that alcohol was a poison, itself.
#31
Manipulated... intoxicants. Toxicants. Toxins.

His lips remained curled in bewildered amusement. He blinked almost owlishly, pleasant about it all in the novelty of it. Yet! Even as he witnessed this. "That's not real," he said, disbelieving even as his tone failed to have much conviction.

Her power. Her magic. One of those magic people that filtered around the news and left everyone guessing how much was hoax and what was the new reality they lived in.

And in that moment, with some of his less thinking, less critical parts of his brain turned down to a muted whisper, he realized what she probably meant by him sharing his own magic. And with a slightly distant look to his eye, he laughed again.
#32
He struggled, the concept floating sluggishly through the molasses of his drunken brain. Disbelief, but bemusedly. "You doubt me?" She tutted softly, lower lip jutting. "And yet you have your own skill up your sleeve." Perhaps he was trying to hide it from her. Playing coy. Or perhaps he was plainly stupid.
#33
Doubted her. Doubted himself. And yet.

Just enough lack of filter to tell her with some continued thread of humor that didn't translate especially well, "Mine's better."

If he was right about what she was calling power, then yes. His was better.
#34
If she was being perfectly honest with herself, it did strike some spark of apprehension in her. Yuna admired her power, but she knew of many more than could be considered "better" than hers. In terms of effect. In terms of danger.

But she could kill him before he could kill her, surely. Unless it was fire. And in that case, perhaps she deserved to die for her hubris.

"Show me." She bid him, eyes slipping over his face, his body, searching for physical indications of what was to come.
#35
He relaxed, still feeling the effects she'd pressed upon him. Then, taking a long, shallow breath to steady himself and devise some fashion of plan for demonstration, he offered his hand to her, palm up.

"Your phone, if you have it. Locked."

He could do this in his sleep, or so he'd claim.
#36
Her phone. Locked. She regarded him rigidly for a moment. Her phone was seldom used beyond necessary phone calls and text exchanges, but it did never leave her side. There were conversations that were plenty incriminating if one looked into them. What this psychic planned to do with her phone was beyond her, but she felt in control of the situation enough that she could swallow her natural inclination to distrust. Again, she could snap his neck in an instant, if he made any move that would bring her harm.

So with a lift of a manicured brow, she slipped her hand into the velvet pocket of her trousers and produced a slender black phone with a clear case. It was, as requested, locked. Yuna held it out to him, half expecting some horrible attempt at a flirtatious joke, perhaps all a ploy to get her phone number.
#37
She looked skeptical, but... compliant. He found himself smiling that lazy smile that had to do with wine and magic and took the phone from her, his eyes on hers as he did so.

He could drain her bank account if she happened to have her bank logged in on her phone. He knew that. But even as he knew that, he knew that wasn't the point tonight. He didn't need whatever money sat in the ones and zeroes of the digital space from her. So as he took her phone and put his hands on it, he was able to tap right in.

It seemed to behave on its own, light up, flicking past the lockscreen like it wasn't even there. He didn't watch but he knew what it looked like--seemingly on their own accord the bits he needed open would open without his so much as putting a fingerprint on her screen. Contacts, new page, and then his information--offered without even an apparent thought. Kidd Slater in the appropriate boxes and his number to follow.

Saved. Shrugged. Maybe she had guessed him right, but it was a bit more than just a ploy. It was the kindest demonstration he knew for a woman who kept surprising him as he handed it back even as the screen went dark. "If you want it," he supposed out loud.
#38
The dim blue light of her screen battled the red blaze of the room, lighting their faces from beneath. She kept her chin level, but her gaze drifted away from his, despite the gut reaction to instill a suggestion into his brain while she had the opportunity. He had proven compliant to eye contact thus far, she trusted he would gift her with it again. What was happening in his hand was more enrapturing. She watched as the phone shimmered to life, the interface reacting to an unseen touch.

She had half a mind to swipe it from him as her text messages appeared, but he bypassed to a blank contact page before she had decided on doing so. She watched the keyboard appear, the letters pop into existence to the crackling sound of artificial keys tapping. A number. She'd been right, in some far off way.

As he handed her phone back, Yuna's mind reeled to make sense of it. Telekinesis of some kind? A phantom hand? Illusion? She took the phone in her grip, assuring herself that it was real. Opening the screen again, she turned her face to it, and bypassed the lock to bring forth the contact page again. Kidd Slater. "How?" She questioned.
#39
A certain sense of satisfaction swam around inside him with the way she seemed as utterly confounded by what he'd done. Nearly as much as he'd felt by hers. But he blinked what amounted to doe-eyes at her, irises a dusty grey quickly percolating back to hazel, still pleasantly tipsy and feeling oddly good about himself all the while. Not so often he got to show off just for the hell of it.

"Beats me. But been able to hack just about anything since I was in high school." It had taken him a long time to realize that he didn't need to put hands on any input to make it work. Typing sometimes helped, but was rarely if ever strictly necessary. And on something as simple as a phone? Child's play. As in, literally a toddler could have gotten to that page with enough smashing of its nasty little hand against the screen once it was unlocked.
#40
That was... unsettling. Yuna had a grasp on technology, never falling terribly far behind on advancements. Her phone was always the newest edition, she kept it updated, made sure to learn how to navigate everything efficiently. But when it came to hacking, that was where her understanding began to dull. She hardly had much more than a basic grasp on how and where things were stored. "Hack" was such an ambiguous word.

"And have you just hacked into all of my personal accounts?" She posed lightly, joking of course, though she watched his face carefully for any hint that he might have actually done so. She would simply force him to reverse it if he had, then perhaps send him to the hospital with alcohol poisoning.
#41
The wariness made him chuckle. "No." He didn't really have a reason to. She didn't have anything that interested him. Well that wasn't entirely true, but it was true in the context they were currently speaking. Her sensitive personal information had no worth to him. No one who would buy just a name and some numbers. No reason to dig his fingers into her accounts and see what she was literally worth. He was worth more. He was certain.

Nonetheless. "I did what amounts to a party trick. Same as you."

Goodness he sort of wanted to lay down, which was just unbecoming enough for him to not.
#42
She supposed there was no way to tell if he was being truthful, other than looking for herself. In the case that he was, then she would look like she was worried financially. Her worth had nothing to do with the numbers on the screen.

A party trick. Was that all? She smiled, watching how his body sagged and eyes drooped in ways he had no control of, his body puppeteered by the alcohol in his veins. His veins. Coursing with intoxicating blood. Her gums ached. "I am sure you are capable of much more impressive things." She stroked his ego.

Then looked into his eyes, "Tell me the most impressive thing you've done as you let me feed from you." She instructed, wording in in a way that perhaps his mind would take as a command to do nothing but speak compliantly. She waited for him to begin talking before closing in, and tilting his head to the side gingerly to expose the slope of his neck into his shoulder.


Success

#43
His ego was certainly stroked, for all it didn't really need it at this point. But it was easy to meet her eyes as he had much of the evening--he had no reason that he knew of to shy away from eyes. It was what you did when you spoke to someone, after all. At least if you had the nerve for it. Some people didn't. Those people were easy to pick on but... often not worth the effort.

Not that he was thinking much of that as she offered the unseen pressure of compulsion, and he found himself bemused and wondering if he'd misheard, a pleasant but odd smile on him. Intoxicated and befuddled. Nonetheless, no resistance as she tipped his head. He'd already been fairly willing to submit to her leading him around anyway, so it didn't strike oddly, even as he was working up to a story.

Most impressive thing...

He supposed any number of his monetary conquests could have counted. The time he'd absolutely gutted the security system of a very sensitive arm's dealer operation and had sold their own information back to them--as planned--had been fun. But it wasn't what came to mind. For whatever reason, a certain note of success budded... "Would you believe me if I told you I have a Master's Degree in Cyber Security?" A pause as he sort of half-focused on what she was up to, brow slightly furrowed. "Not that I've ever been to college."

A little more than a party trick. He'd elaborate in a moment. Words were still a bit slippery.
#44
There was no indication that the suggestion struck poorly in the young man's mind. He seemed perfectly preoccupied with talking about himself. She suspected she had hardly needed a suggestion to achieve such an outcome. Nevertheless, she lent him half of her attention, humming something in between the two statements as she leaned closer. Fangs made jagged her complacent smile, "Is that so?"

Then as he was wound up and set on his feet to continue speaking, she sunk her teeth into his skin. For a few moments, she could hardly find it in herself to stay standing, let alone truly listen to what he had to say. Drunken psychic blood, spiked by her own hand. She would need to find a seat immediately when she was finished.
#45
It was... uh... what was she doing? He found himself questioning this in a slight falter to this words as she closed in. Part of him wanted to stop her, to question her. At least a little explanation as to what was happening. Clarity and some choice, maybe. But he found no will to actually resist her there, letting her do it even as he wondered if he ought to not. His hands didn't come up, he didn't pull away. And maybe some bead of his less thinking brain didn't hate having her mouth at his neck, for all it wasn't quite... right.

Unable to figure out his own motivations, he instead carried on as best he could with his questionable tale of how he'd laid claim to an education that wasn't his. Unaware she wasn't really hearing him, the tale was twisted around his ego, and how he had seeded the system with false grades. As much as he could have easily enough just stuck his name into the system for the diploma and put himself on record, he'd gone so far as to make the whole thing a well padded transcript.

It had taken some thinking at the time, but the work itself had been smooth as silk. He'd never felt prouder. "Definitely earned it, even if the university would probably disagree," he said with a grasp at his own arrogance to conclude it.

When she did waver off her feet eventually, his instinct would be to make sure she got down safely beside him, even as he would inevitably come off of the brunt of the suggestion.
#46
His words were a breathing tide, yawning in and out of focus. Some magnified, others a distant mumble. His blood was her focus. Its warmth and sweetness, the point at which her lips met his skin. It was better than any poison that humans drank to get them drunk. If she were hungrier, or greedier, she might have not found it in herself to stop. But even with her mind soggy with intoxication, she could find the rational notion that a body would be a headache to clean up.

So she inhaled softly through her nostrils as she swiped her tongue smartly over the pinpricks her fangs left in his skin. The smile was impossible to measure as it stretched across her lips, and she stepped back, the floor suddenly made of something soft and uneven. Despite her earlier notion, she did not immediately sink to the couch. Instead, she swayed like a willow, her limbs weightless and heavy all at once as she brought her hands up, adjusting his collar to sit perfectly around his shoulders once more.

Then she caught his chin again and looked at him in the crimson light. A pretty young man. Long eye lashes, high cheekbones. Pretty. And, very capable of doing a great many drastic things, even if they were not physical. These thoughts swamp in her mind, detached from anything truly solid. Like loose petals in water.

She decided that she liked him.
#47
It was all very... detached. His own head sort of stunted by the drink she'd altered in his system, and then the steady loss of blood he was aware of in a way that felt at bay, waiting to come up over the ledge and greet him more clearly in a moment. She fed and he realized it without quite realizing it at the same time, and he only stopped telling her of this simple but powerful ploy he'd pulled years ago when she finally stepped away, looking about how he felt.

Only when he was no longer consumed with the story he'd been forced to tell did he begin to connect some dots, and he blinked at her with a youthfulness he didn't often show, grasping for his own coherency as his wits caught up to him with fragile tendrils of understanding.

"You're a vampire."

Wasn't she? It felt right. It fell off his lips as fact.

Either that or a lot of this was a very strange toxin-induced experience he could not begin to truly make anything real out of.
#48
It was a sentence uttered by many frail women or rugged men in theatrical bastardizations of her kind. Always a shutter, always a hint of lust woven into the fear that the realization inspired. Such a dangerously alluring concept, the vampire.

It was an obvious conclusion for Kidd to draw. Vampire. She liked the way it sounded, preferred it to the other fearful accusations that'd been proclaimed by other victims. Hannya, Nure-onna, Upyr, Strzyga. Of those, Vampire sounded the most... romantic.

"Yes." She confirmed with a coo. "And I am drunker than you, so do not fear me." Added in promise, an acknowledgement of her own useless state. Woe, if he decided to try to harm her. Could she control his blood in this state? She would certainly try.
#49
Fear her.

He found he didn't. Or at least hadn't reach that point yet. Still processing, but he felt very muddled, turned around too many times on top of the wine.

More drunk than him, though, she confessed, and he found himself perplexed further, reaching for her as if to steady her in a way that was mindless, instinctual. Whatever this experience was, it seemed shared. Mutual. Who was she, this vampire, and he was he in relation to that? She'd fed and instead of feeling terrorized he just felt like a child taken by the hand, in a place he didn't know and couldn't tell you why he was here. He simply was.

"Why... or how?" He hadn't seen her drink anything. It didn't even occur to him just then that she'd get anything from his blood. The stepping stones of logic were a bit too far out from his toes just then.
#50
A grin twisted her lips, her teeth stained red, but the crimson light of the room camouflaged it. Finally, she felt her weight betray her, and she drifted as if through molasses toward the couch. Sinking down into the velvet cushion, she draped her arm along the back of the couch, her head tilting and bobbing as if disconnected from her neck. "How are you?" She posited back.

"I drank something..." She lifted her hand, her slender fingers, brushed her knuckles along the side of his neck, "Intoxicating."
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