Dorian was having a good day at the to his knowledge no one had died, which meant he hadn’t been pulled away from the festivities. That was more than he could say for the year previous so things were looking up. He’d stopped by a few of the booths, picked up a few odds and ends and decided to stop for a pint at one of the tents. It wasn’t the kind of pint a vampire truly wanted, but, as there were tourists around, he wasn’t going to complain. He’d fed earlier in the day anyway and a bit the night previous. His tab at Afterlife had been perhaps a bit higher than normal but he didn’t care. The doll he’d found had been rather tastier than he was used to.
Once he’d gotten the drink, filled in the cheap plastic cups, he scanned the tent for a place to sit. It was busy but people seemed more content to come and go with their beer where as he wanted to enjoy it and sit for a moment to collect his thoughts. He spotted the red head with ease, though it wasn’t her hair that gave her away. Her costume did a decent job of hiding that. Her scent was another story. He took a sip of the drink and headed over to where she sat. “It’s a good thing we don’t feel heat like normal people,” he said when he approached her. “I would be willing to bet heat stroke would be on the table if a mortal wore that to a fayre on a day like this.” It was warm, as it should be in July and she was dressed head to toe in black with a hell of a mask covering her face. Dorian appreciated the look.
