Christopher Serkan

[motor-baby-nathan-deactivated20]

Christopher and Tristan

[motor-baby-nathan-deactivated20]

"Hey man, don’t freak on me. Did you lose your phone? Forget my number? Forget you didn’t call first?" At first he sounded annoyed, but he quickly changed his attitude realizing he was talking to one of his best customers. "You probably did forget. You look famished. You probably can barely think. Let’s get you outta here before someone calls 911 or thinks you’re a bath-salt zombie."

Tristan put an arm around Christopher shielding him with his body from view of others as he ducked him down deeper into the alley to find a back way to his house.

God … his house. He never took clients to his house. But, he didn’t know he was to be meeting anyone tonight. Figures. It wasn’t like he had blood on him to just help Christopher with and he sure couldn’t just go snag a victim on a whim with Christopher around either. Christopher actually believed Tristan found willing donors for this shit. Fuck and half. He’d have to take him home. It was the only way to get him blood in a hurry.

"We’re going to my place. I don’t have it on me Chris." He tried to explain. But, he sighed and shook his head, "What am I going to do with you? Didn’t we already have this talk? The one about not going so long you actually look as dead as you are? This isn’t going to do you any good with the ladies." Tristan attempted to joke and keep it light and to keep Christopher distracted and awake from the seriousness of the situation. Tristan didn’t really want to be seen carrying around some half dead looking dude through the city either. So, he used as much vampiric speed to get them to his home as quickly as possible, swishing down dark alley after alley through off limits areas on his way to his own sanctuary. He just crossed his fingers this wasn’t going to backfire on him later.

"Don’t worry bro, I got you covered." He also reassured in the American slang accent of a drug dealer on the corner promising a junkie he always had his back as if they were best pals. Best pals that never did anything but chit chat and exchange deals… yeah…

[christ0pherserkan]

Call him? Shit, well he didn't think of that before hand. All he knew was the blood was here, he needed to get here as quickly as possible. Hell, he didn't even grab any cash this time other than the pocket change that was jingling inside his jeans as he walked along under the wing of his dealer. 

Thank god for Tristan blocking out everybody else with his more alert and conscious mind. Perhaps if Chris kept his head down and stumbled along like they were doing now then he would only be considered a drunk getting some help from his friend. His red hoodie was darker in certain places, presumably wet or stained but in reality it was blood splatters from previous feedings. He always chose this same read hoodie when venturing out.

He could remember that much but not to give a courtesy call? Strange things go through Christopher's mind when he's running on empty.

"Just get me inside," he managed to grumble. His voice was hoarse, like he had been gargling gravel for the past hour or so. Perhaps it was his throat already starting to decay without the substance he needed to keep living in this lifeless vessel. "I-I'll give you my whole check next week. Just fuckin' fix it. C'mon, Tristan. You know I'm good for it. You know I do everything I can."

Ladies were the last thing on his mind. That along with love and affection. Those variables seemed to be absent from Christopher's life entirely.

[motor-baby-nathan-deactivated20]

Christopher and Tristan

It was late in the evening. The night life would soon be on last call before taxi drivers were supplied with intoxicated clients trying to make their way home. But, in Prague there were always the unlucky ones who never made it home, victims to the damned working for contracts, hell, or their own evil natures. Tristan was one of them.

Tonight however he was taking a day off from his work and had planned his regular night of meditation and self-indulgence in his own hobbies and interests. This was a night his only victim would be to quench his own thirst. He roamed the streets like he was in a luxury bakery looking for a delicacy exotic and sweet to indulge himself with.

As he combed the walks past streetlamps and taverns dressed in a casual suit, air of his deepest nature, the bootlegging gangsta era still in his veins he saw a client.

God damn it.

God damn it he didn’t look good at all. Tristan really didn’t want to be seen, interrupted. It was his night off. But, he could tell, Christopher Serkan did not look good… again.

Fuck. Did he catch his eye? He shouldn’t have stared so long. Tristan could feel it coming. He was going to have to work after all.

[christ0pherserkan]

There was no way to check schedules or get in contact with the man he had been paying visits to for some time now. How was he suppose to know that the blood slinger wasn't on duty at his most dire deprivation of blood. Who in the right mind takes a 'sick day' let alone a Holiday from a job like this? If Chris only knew that it was a personal day he would consider it as Tristan dropping the ball. 

He began to drag himself through the cold alley ways. Perhaps he was all wrong. Did he go one dumpster too far? Perhaps he had the time wrong. Fuck the time. He didn't have a minute to spare. In a craze the starved man tugged on the strings of his hood to draw it more shut. The last thing he wanted was to draw the attention of anybody. For if that poor individual were to ask him if he needed assistance he wouldn't hesitate to lunge at their pulsing veins.

The man was just about to give up. Despite the shame and the pain it would bring him tomorrow he was going to cave and feast upon the next person in passing by playing the 'help me' card. However, right at the last second of his sanity those piercing blue eyes of his caught sight of just the face he had been dragging his sluggish body around trying to find. 

"H-Hey!" He shouted despite his assumption that Tristan had already seen him. How could he not? Sure, he seemed to blend in with all the drunks stumbling around the sidewalk, but that brief moment of eye contact made it certain in his mind that Tristan had seen him and didn't care of his condition or need. 

He approached with a struggle crossing the street. He completely disregarded the skidding cars and alarming horns as he kept his eyes glued to his target. 

Desperation drove him to grip the dealer's causal suit by it's trim and shoved him up against the nearest building. "Where the hell were you?" He shouted, drawing attention, yet his irritation could be drawn to his lack of blood. 

[beislazaro]

       Lazaro was set, almost permanently, on grumpy old man. Today was no different. One of the imps he’d been particularly proud of a few months ago had let their quota plummet this month, they weren’t even a quarter of the way through. After three days of torture, he’d sent the little shit on his way and given him a week to make it up to him. The demon didn’t hold hope out, and was more than prepared to kill him.

       Sinsational’s was the only place other than his home he could go where people wouldn’t bother him, he didn’t even have that luxury in his office. Always there’d be someone barging in, asking this or pleading that, nothing that he usually gave even half a shit about. But then, of course, the pub had to be ruined, too. This cheeky little vampling kept staring. He’d bus tables and his eyes would always be on him. Finally, as he watched the puke clean the table next to him—or barely clean it, as he kept staring—the demon had had enough. “What the fuck do you want?”

[christ0pherserkan]

       It wasn't Chirs' intention to irritate this estranged individual. In fact, if he were to stop and think on his actions he wouldn't have a particularly good reason behind his obsessive gawking. Every table had been swiped - not terribly well but enough to pass with the excuse of there being too many at once and many people wandering in off the streets. Every table except the one across the way, unused and placed right next to this man who occasionally caught a glance of him staring. 

         Of course, this older gentleman - the term being used very loosely here - began to snap at him now that Christopher was within ear shot with no risk of it being drowned out by the clamor of drunkards and bickering bar goers. "I don't want anything from you. Especially not that attitude you're giving me. Why don't you just calm down and sedate yourself with some drinks. Looks like you could use it."

[the-bastien]

How long had it been since he’d paid Roman a visit? Too long if you asked Bastien. The more reclusive demon had a bad habit of avoiding his colleagues of hell — what a sore sport. Did the demon have any care for the feelings of his coworkers?

It seemed however, the disappearing act would continue on to tonight. The pub — packed with its usual riff-raff did not unfortunately house any other demons besides himself. How disappointing.

But Bastien was a patient demon — by his own standards — and took a seat at a table opposite busser. Brown hair, blue eyes, the characteristic signature of a vampire. This was neither Prague, nor Hell, it was a nest of vampires. Bastien looked away first, though the crowd of college aged students sat even farther down on the scale of interest. The vampire was still there when he looked back, still looking it seemed too. Bastien nodded at the table indicating the man should come over, not to sit but to respond to a comment such as: “didn’t mom and dad ever tell you it’s rude to stare?”

[christ0pherserkan]

       Briefly there was eye contact, though it only lasted mere seconds before the other had broken that connection. It merely sparked Christopher's interest all the more. It was obvious that the only way to whet his appetite would be to go over and have a word. As if the demon were some sort of mind reader - which wouldn't be surprising - he gave a gesture of summoning. It wasn't until that moment that the youthful appearing vampire started to question weather or not his gaze had been taken as flattery or insult.

         Step after step brought him closer to the grimy table. To give off a cleaner less grunt-like look he pocketed his rag in his apron and wiped his hands on the back pockets of his work pants. How amusing the words that spilled from the strangers mouth were. The kid - by mortal standards - rolled his eyes dramatically before giving a forced laugh. "Mom and dad taught me a great number of things but I can't say that was ever on the lesson plan. Would you like me to clear your table before you have your what-have-yous?"

[christ0pherserkan]

       Ten forty-five. Christopher's usual night shift was nearly an hour in when he noticed somebody intriguing step in through the front doors of Sinsational’s Pub. Part of him wished for the individual to take a seat in his section so that he could observe them silently without having to rubberneck over other customers and thankfully he got his wish.

         As he would bus the tables of departing guests his blue eyes would find their way over to the person of interest. There was once a time when he knew how to spy while being undetected but with all these years passed some things had become murky in his mind. Falling from second nature to a distant memory of how he once was. Part of him may have been hoping for this other to take notice so that they might strike up a conversation.