Whiskey and blood || Ira and Jerome
An irritated grunt escaped Jerome's lips as he stepped out of the women's bathroom. He had been feeding, about to completely suck the soul of his victim when the disappointed look of Stephanie flashed in his mind. And for some unfathomable reason, he couldn't go through with it. The dream had shaken him, to his very core. It had made that kindle inside him flare up into a burning flame and now he was even more lost and confused than when he left Camden all those months ago. Jerome was starting to feel. Actual, true emotions ran through him. Something that hadn't happened in over centuries. Not since he had sold his soul.
An Incubus had not business dealing with such things. An infernal creature meant to corrupt and consume the souls of humans having a conscience? No, it was just not possible. He had to get his head on the game, expunge whatever ailment he had and go back to being the old Jerome. If Ira even caught scent of his newfound morality, there would be hell to pay. Of that he was certain. He couldn't allow himself to give into whatever weakness was surging through him. It was just something he couldn't afford.
"I need a drink." He uttered as he made his way through the crowd, ignoring the lustful glances and smiles sent his way as he approached the bar. It was evident there would be no sex tonight, for he was not in the mood. "Dear Satan, an Incubus not in the mood. The fuck is wrong with me?" He mumbled after a bottle of whiskey and a glass had been set on the bar for him. Pouring some amber liquid into the glass, filling it up almost to the brim, he didn't hesitate in consuming it all. Sucking in a breath through clenched teeth as it burned its way down his throat. It was just a fluke, something he needed to drink out of his system and everything would be back to normal in no time.