HEY, i think i just saw DAHLIA RAMOS walking down the strip. stop by to catch up and you’ll learn the THIRTY-SEVEN YEAR OLD is working as a TOUR GUIDE at THE DEADLY POSSESSIONS HAUNTED MUSEUM + A MEMBER OF THE INNER CIRCLE FOR THE VISITORS and lives in STARGAZER VILLAS. given she is FORTHWRIGHT but PESSIMISTIC, it’s likely that she IS a vampire. on the flipside, rumor has it that the vampire that turned her, whom she viewed as her best friend, threw her under the bus for the atrocities that they committed and she spent the first 10 years of her new life on the run and it keeps her looking over her shoulder. i bet you can find her tearing up the dance floor to SOMEBODY'S WATCHING ME by ROCKWELL and you’ll know why she’s called THE SIREN. ☾ .⭒˚
PINTEREST
PLAYLIST
BASIC INFORMATION
NAME: Dahlia Emilia Ramos
NICKNAMES: Lia
AGE: 37 (permanently)
BIRTH DATE: March 29, 1862
ZODIAC SIGN: Aries
ETHNICITY: Puerto Rican, German, English, Irish, Swiss
GENDER: Cisgender female (she/her)
ORIENTATION: Lesbian
BIRTHPLACE: Loíza, Puerto Rico
OCCUPATION: Tour Guide at the Deadly Possessions Haunted Museum + a member of the Inner Circle for the Visitors
RELATIONSHIPS
SIBLINGS: 3 younger sisters, all deceased long ago
RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single
CHILDREN: None
PHYSICAL TRAITS
FACE CLAIM: Aubrey Plaza
EYE COLOUR: Brown
HAIR COLOUR: Brown
HEIGHT: 5′6″
WEIGHT: 120 lbs.
BODY BUILD: Slim
Dahlia was born in Loíza, Puerto Rico on March 29, 1862 and soon after her birth, her parents emigrated to New York City in the U.S. She had 3 younger sisters and quite early on, she felt the burden of being the eldest daughter, helping to raise her younger siblings
Growing up as a young woman in New York City, she felt inspired by the suffragette movement and felt that women could do more than just stay at home and have babies
When she was 17, her parents had arranged for her to marry a well-off man who was keen on making her a homemaker. However, she knew that that's not what she wanted so the night before the wedding, she ran off into the night, hopped on a train headed west, and never looked back
Trying to make it out west was tough but eventually, she settled down in what is now Wyoming, got a job in a saloon, and started to make some connections, one of which was a woman named Sable, and they soon became fast friends
Sabel was witty, resourceful, and sly. She was always cooking up new schemes, new ways to swindle people, and it wasn't long before the two were partners in crime
It was around this time that Dahlia realized that she really had no interest in men of any kind--she much preferred the company of women
Dahlia had known that Sabel had a darkness within her but honestly, she'd always quite admired that about her dear friend. However, she didn't realize how truly dark she was until one November night in 1899. The two had been attempting to swindle and rob a wealthy man when things went sideways and he pulled a gun on them. Though Sabel tried to diffuse the situation, things got heated and he ended up shooting Dahlia. It was at this moment that Sabel lunged at the man, sinking her teeth into him before he even had the chance to pull the trigger
As Dahlia lay in a pool of her own blood, breathing what she thought were her last breaths, Sabel did what, at the time, she thought was a kindness and saved her friend in the most grotesque of ways. After it was all over, when Dahlia finally awoke, she was different. Sabel opened up and revealed her true nature--she was a vampire--and now, Dahlia was, too
The turning brought them even closer together and now that they were both practically unstoppable, they continued their antics around the small town. However, all their fun eventually caught up with them and Dahlia soon realized that Sabel had a lot more skeletons in her closet than she originally realized--quite literally. As it turns out, Sabel had an insatiable lust had committed a string of murders just one town over and people were starting to catch on. When Sabel felt that the walls were closing in, in an act of desperation and self-preservation, she'd gone to the local authorities and wove a tale about how it was really Dahlia who was behind all of it and Sabel had been bewitched by the dark-haired woman
As much as hurt her to have become the pariah of the town, the sting of betrayal from the one person she trusted most hurt even more. Just as she had before, she wasted no time and fled before the local authorities had the chance to arrest her
She was on the run all over the midwest for a long time, never staying in one place for too long and she didn't slow down until the mid 1910s. She settled down in a small settlement called Prim and laid low for a long time, only feeding when she absolutely had to
As the years went by, she found it difficult to trust anyone. She lived her life in solitude and became more and more jaded and cynical as the decades wore on. However, even though time kept moving around, she stayed frozen as she was. She witnessed two world wars, the Great Depression, the Cold War, the British Invasion, the rise of disco, and everything else in between
CURRENT DAY
A few years back, Dahlia was able to connect with creatures that were like her and they created a close-knit bond, though she still finds it quite difficult to trust anyone outside of her small circle
She's incredibly sardonic and she doesn't really take too much seriously
She enjoys being cryptic and freaking people out, hence why her job at the Deadly Possessions Haunted Museum is so perfect for her
She is quite the Casanova and is a major flirt
She is a self-proclaimed witch and practices regularly. Even though she finds it fun to freak people out by telling them that she is a witch, she really does take her craft seriously and it means a lot to her
the trance he was in was pretty strong. he did turn a bit to look at the person who had grabbed him. but his desire to look back at the cowboy took over and soon enough he was stuck once again. he had heard the woman tell him that they had to leave - that they had to go to safety. he just couldn't bail. the words trust me rang through his ears. he wanted to trust her, but the cowboy was so hot. he needed to be close to him. it was almost like if he left the cowboy he would feel pain.
still deep down something told him things were off. the woman's urge told him danger lurked about. half of him wanted to believe her, but the other half didn't. that was until he finally started to break out of his trance and saw the cowboy for who - no what - they really were. he saw with his own eyes their face turning from the cowboy to someone more sinister, scarier than a hot guy. but how can he think the woman who suddenly grew fangs was scary when he spent most of his time getting fed from. it was then that it finally hit him, he finally realized who she truly was -- a vampire. panic and fear started to build through him. this encounter was different.
other vampires wanted to fed from him. it was a mutual agreement. they tried their best to make it comfortable. but spencer could tell with this woman that she wasn't caring, that she wasn't going to ask for permission. and that worried him. especially when she finally bites into the throat of another person right in front of him. his heartbeat goes faster, his mouth agapes in surprise. within seconds spencer makes his choice. "no! fuck no...no." he shakes his head in disbelief before turning around on his heel and starts to make a break towards the exit. he's panicking enough to forget that he enjoys the bite. but this was life or death. he had to get out. even though he left the others behind - and hopefully the vampire - spencer realizes that he needs to get out as fast as possible. this wasn't how he wanted his evening to go or even for someone to potentially learn of his secret. "move out of the way!" he screams at random people, pushing them aside as he tries to escape. he feels his arm bump into someone, but he can't stop. he needs to leave now.
Even given the fact that he was a Vitelli, she was still pretty surprised at how quickly Spencer had tried to get out of there. Letting out a small chuckle as she briefly removed her teeth from the woman's neck, she smirked as she whispered "Damn, he just really left your ass for dead, huh? And after you tried to be sweet and help him. How sad..." Yet, her gloating was rudely interrupted when the other young gentleman ran into her and knocked her down, her grip on the girl suddenly loosening as she was thrown off balance. In a matter of seconds, something that had been oh, so fun and devious was now going in the opposite direction that she wanted it to and even though she logically knew that she had to get the hell out of there, she felt an overwhelming anger consume her.
A monstrous growl left her lips and she was certain that everyone around her was now terrified. And if so, then good. That's the way she wanted it. Ironically, all she could see was red at this moment and she thrashed around, her teeth and sharp claws lashing out for anything they could reach. She was so hungry. And she wasn't happy with how her plan had gone awry.
Why is it that whenever Dahlia put together a perfectly entertainingly diabolical plan, other people always had to get in the way and ruin it? That's what had happened last year with Alvaro and she didn't appreciate it now. The vampire had paid her dues, had she not? Surely, it was her turn to wreak all sorts of havoc--right?
if you had asked her, lauryn would say she wasn't a fan of the rodeo. that's ignoring the fact that she’d never been to one before. she was normally game for parties — they were typical for the business she was in, both music and vampire hunting — but the rodeo was debauchery at its finest. it was too loud, too messy, too everything. but for the first time, she wasn’t the designated driver. which meant, she could let loose. lauryn had done her best to get into the rodeo spirit. she donned her best denim ensemble, a cute denim vest with sparkles, jeans, and a sparkly cowboy hat. she was ready for anything the night brought her. she was only one drink in, and swaying side by side to someone she could only recognize as a vitelli, spencer, was it? he was having a good ol’ time, and lauryn thought she would too.
the singer was a typical country boy, the type who lauryn thought would bring back chivalry, even if she wasn’t interested in guys. he wasn’t all that special, with a kind of voice that lauryn had heard on star search as a kid, but it was in the way he worked the crowd and the stage. as a fellow performer, she could appreciate that. but there was something incredibly off. she noticed his eyes first — blood red, much like the blood that ran through her body, which, the vampire probably wanted. but the worst part? his eyes were unfortunately staring straight at spencer, and her. she had to intervene, what kind of slayer would she be if she didn’t? wasn't that the whole point of a slayer? to stop vampires? instantly, she starts looking around for the closest exit to get everyone, but mostly spencer, out of the venue.
her eyes drift back and forth between spencer and the country singer. he was approaching fast, and lauryn could swear she saw fanged teeth beginning to emerge from his mouth. she had to act, and fast. otherwise spencer vitelli would be vampire chow, and the city could not handle losing another vitelli so soon. what would the headlines say this time? that the vitelli's were marked for death? her blood runs cold in her body, and she aggressively tugs on spencer’s arm, trying to get him to look at her. could she get him out the door in time? she wasn’t so sure, so she hits him on the shoulder in an attempt to get his attention “spencer, we gotta go, now. i know you barely know me, but just trust me, we need to get the absolute fuck outta here.”
at some point, leon had lost track of why he was still here. the original objective had been simple enough: find mikey, convince mikey to go home, prevent mikey from making whatever terrible decision mikey was inevitably in the process of making.
unfortunately, mikey had remained completely unfound.
fortunately—or perhaps unfortunately—someone had introduced him to appletinis. he'd learned three things tonight.
first: they tasted nothing like alcohol.
second: that was apparently dangerous.
third: two had somehow become three.
his empty glass sits abandoned near his elbow while he debates whether asking one more time if anyone's seen his brother counts as persistence or harassment.
the answer is probably both.
around him, the room feels even louder than before. his heartbeat thrums in his ears, conversations overlap, music vibrates through the floorboards. there's laughter somewhere behind him or perhaps it's all around him, he can't tell. this is the sort of sensory soup that normally would've sent him home hours ago.
he's already halfway through standing when someone collides with his shoulder and liquid splashes across the front of his shirt.
he freezes.
not because he's hurt. because now his shirt is wet. for a second, he simply stares down at the spreading stain. "..."
then someone else shoulders past him hard enough to jostle him sideways. for a second he catches a glimpse of the country singer—the one everyone had been watching earlier—moving through the crowd far quicker than seemed necessary.
"oh kay...." the words leave him quietly. another glance at the ruined shirt. another at the crowd. the decision arrives immediately. “well… i tried.” it's muttered mostly to himself. a small, resigned observation rather than a complaint.
so, leon turns toward the nearest exit with the determination of a man whose social battery, sensory tolerance, and clean shirt have all reached their limit simultaneously.
if mikey is still here, he'll survive.
if not, leon can try again tomorrow.
right now he wants a shower, clean clothes, and approximately six hours of silence.
This, of course, had been the vampire's plan all along. She couldn't give a shit about performing for this hickass honky tonk. And could she get caught? Sure. It was possible. But even if she was in danger, she was certain she could take whoever came her way. Plus, Dahlia was old as fuck. So what if she took a risk? On the off chance that she didn't make it out of this unscathed, she didn't have much to lose. As she inched closer to the dazed man, still dawning her illusion of a country boy, her fangs began to appear and she was going to go in for the kill--that was, until the object of her true desires put herself in the line of fire. Bad choice, she thought to herself.
By now, her pretty boy smile had turned into a menacing grin and she reared back, still making eye contact with the young man, just to turn her head and sink her fangs into the woman beside him. If the woman screamed, she'd hardly heard it, far too busy feeling the euphoria that always came along with an attack. Truly, becoming a vampire had helped the woman become who she was always destined to be. And she'd perfected her cruelty over the past century.
She could taste the blood as it ran down her chin and at this point, she was ravenous and not too worried about what else was going on around her. Her prey was just as sweet as she'd hoped she'd be. She was sure the other one would've made a tasty meal as well but this was so much more fun. Besides, women were just better. She was plenty used to drinking men but it got old and it was so fucking difficult to pretend to be interested in them. This was all so much more satisfying. Of course, she knew her moment of bliss couldn't last forever and she was running out of time as the seconds ticked past.
where : the dollhouse burlesque
when : may 30th, 1997
who : @boneyardstarters
"I DUNNO WHAT'S WORSE, the possibility of goin' home and having goddamn country stuck in my head for who knows how long or how many cowboy boots have almost stepped on my feet. Think maybe there shoulda been a bit more practicin' for some people before confidently joined a line dance." Quite the line coming from someone who had only recently recovered in the last few years from a bad case of lifelong two feet on a dance floor herself, but if there was one thing that hadn't changed since her last name did, it was her ability to boast hypocrisy when it supported her complaints. As if on cue, ironically considering her complaints implied she hadn't thought anyone on the floor was capable of hitting a cue with accuracy, she took a step back to narrowly avoid a couple left one half of the pair was dipped into her. Eyebrows rose as if in a silent see, an elbow jutting out in front of her holding the possibility of turning the jamboree into a brawl were someone to get too close again. Credit due where it was deserved, not a single yawn had left her mouth since being she was in the midst of the western-themed antics around her, a true success, even if there was no lack of complaints that did, as she wasn't exactly picturing her first evening truly out of the house and with a babysitter like this. "One more time and you better take this lemonade before it ends up on someone. Isn't there supposed to be a mechanical bull 'round here somewhere, or is that at one of the other places? 'Cause watchin' people getting thrown around sounds a lot more fun. Y'think they'd let me get my hands on the controls if I bribed 'em so I can really send 'em flying?"
Dahlia was slated to hit the stage in about an hour--not that anyone here would know that, of course. Still, she had some time to kill so here she was, sipping on whiskey and watching all of these people fumble around the dance floor. You know, for being in the west, the citizens of Vegas didn't seem all that well-versed in what it meant to be a cowboy. And not for nothing but Dahlia remembered how the true wild west really used to be--rough and tumble, everyone only out for themselves, carrying pistols and challenging anyone that dared to get in their way. Sometimes, she missed those days--then again, life was a whole lot more interesting with television.
As she sat at the bar and sipped on her drink, she spotted the blonde and couldn't help but chuckle at her complaints. As someone who was hellbent on always finding something to bitch about, she could appreciate the stranger's judgements. Shaking her head, she said "Well, some of these people don't understand that putting on a pair of cowboy boots doesn't automatically make you a line dancer." She'd done her own fair share of line dancing in her long life--not that she was willing to show that off. But she could certainly judge.
Laughing at the idea of purposefully throwing someone off a mechanical bull, she said "Sadly, I think that's at one of the other joints--best believe if the bull were here, I would've already thrown someone off of it."
PLOT DROP STARTER: @boneyardstarters
MUSE: Spencer Vitelli
LOCATION: Doll House Burlesque
DATE: May 30th, evening time.
Sweat drips down his face, falling along his neck to pitter patter down his chest. The top buttons of his plaid shirt opened to expose a somewhat hairy chest. Spencer is dressed almost like a cowboy in black jeans, black boots, and a purple plaid shirt that makes him stand out a bit too much. But he loves dressing like a cowboy. The rodeo was always something that he looks forward to. Ready to dress to impress whether then trying to blend in. He should’ve skipped the event considering he just lost his brother. He didn’t though. Finding a night out on town being a grieving process for the music teacher. He honestly thinks he didn’t even shed a tear. He wasn’t close to Franco. So why should he mourn him? Somewhere deep down he did, but Spencer wanted to have fun and forced himself to ignore the slight ache he felt at the idea of losing so many that he cared for. He cared for Franco. Just found it difficult to mourn him.
Like many people who mourn or grieve differently, Spencer has been at the rodeo events for the pass couple of hours. He almost went to all the events like he had planned on and decided to make his last stop for the evening at the Doll House. It has been going great. The music playing was flowing through the building and sending Spencer in a lustful feeling that made his body sway to the beat. Not only was the music good, it certainly helped that the singer was hot.
So hot that he found himself to push a little closer against the barricade that separates Spencer from getting any closer. Trying to break down the invisible privacy the guy has while on stage. He pushes his body further up the barricade. But he’s still too far away. He’s not in hands reach and well Spencer doesn’t have to be since the singer is coming to him.
Oh shit.
He was getting closer and well Spencer holds a wide grin on his face that nearly takes half his features. He can’t help it. All he can focus on is the guy and how equally sweaty hot he looks like. He can’t help the flush blush that comes across face. They mere inches away from the each other at this point. He can’t believe how close the guy is now. He can feel his breath. The country singer has Spencer’s complete attention now. He doesn’t realize the vibe I the room was changing or how chaos seems tomorrow break out.
He only knows something is wrong when he’s forcibly turned around to face someone. All he could say is “what?” In an anger voice because he was turned aszg from his future husband. He’s so mad that he barely realizes his drink is tossed from his hand. How dare this person pull him from his dream guy? “What you need better be good.”
To be honest, this sort of hoax wasn't usually Dahlia's MO. More often than not, she stuck to stalking the streets like the black cat she was, lurking behind her prey and catching them off guard. She wasn't really sure how she'd been able to swing this country getup but here she was in jeans, cowboy boots, and a plaid shirt complete with a cowboy hat. The only thing was she didn't...look like herself, not exactly. Over the years, she'd learned the art of deception and she'd taken the form not of a southern belle but instead, of a good ol' boy--you know, one that holds doors open for people and loves his mama and all the rest of that shit. She looked handsome and suave and once the show had gotten started and she'd sung through a couple of songs, she felt silly in her realization that she was actually sort of...having fun. But this ruse wasn't for nothing, of course. Per usual, she was hunting. And she'd found her prey.
She was gorgeous--dark curly hair and gorgeous eyes, she caught Dahlia's attention almost immediately. She didn't recognize her and honestly, she couldn't tell if she was actually interested in her or if she was just hungry, not that it really mattered either way. She had a plan and she was going to stick to it. The only issue is that someone was getting in the way. He was a pretty boy and he looked familiar to her, though she couldn't quite place him. As she continued to sing, still disguised as a handsome cowboy of course, she continued to eye the dark-haired girl but she kept catching the young man's eye instead. She felt a little frustrated but then again, food was food. She could tell she'd captured the stranger's attention because he kept moving closer and closer to the barricade. And as he moved closer to the barricade, little by little, with each verse and chorus, she simultaneously got closer to the front of the stage. She could feel her hunger grow. She supposed that at the very least, she'd get a good meal out of it--though as she kept moving closer, she could see the beautiful girl follow behind him. Maybe this would work out in her favor after all.
Now in retrospect, was performing in front of a large audience in order to hunt risky? Sure. But half these people were probably drunk anyways and most likely wouldn't be able to tell the difference from a stunt and a real-life murder--or at least, by the time they did, it'd be too late and she would already be long gone from the Doll House. Besides, she was in disguise after all.
She could feel the heat as she approached the gentleman, descending the steps of the stage one cowboy boot at a time, reaching out to him, still singing. Her mouth was smiling but as she prepared to go in for the kill, her razor-sharp teeth began to reveal themselves and she could feel the anticipation grow. This was it. She could only imagine that she was a terrifying sight to see but that didn't matter because the one person that she needed to fool was right in front of her--or at least he was, until the beautiful stranger fucking intervened. Fuck.
Wolf peered over the desk at the form as Dahlia corrected him. Well hot damn, she was right. A thought sprung to his head and out his mouth before he could stop it: “My last name is DiMarco. Does that count as a double first name?”
He paused to puzzle over this for a moment before remembering -- "OH!" He spun quickly in his chair and started rifling through another cabinet. "We're doing this -- well, *I'm* doing this thing --- okay, fine. I'm *trying* to get this thing started where all the nonprofits in the area come to a tabling event." He came back to Dahlia, a huge smile on his face and a hand-made flyer in hand. He slid it across the desk to her. It was crude, hand-drawn, and rather sloppy, but the details generally read as "Nonprofit tabling event! Come learn more about the great things happening in our city!"
"I just think there's a lot of cool organizations around Vegas, you know? And if we could get all of them into a room here at town hall, just might help get people to see them. I dunno. Maybe it's stupid. But uh, would you take it to the museum? See if anyone from there wants to attend and promote?"
His question seemed quite stupid to her, especially since she wasn't really interested in knowing anything about him. She just wanted to get in and get out--why did that seem to be so damn difficult in this city? "Uh, how should I know?" she retorted, not too concerned about whether his last name was a first name or whatever. Yes, she realized that she'd technically introduced that topic but it's not like she'd wanted to have a whole conversation about it. Really, she just thought it was a silly.
When excitedly handed over a seemingly poorly-made flyer, her dark eyebrows scrunched up in confusion. She was not the person to pitch this to--she wasn't in charge of the museum, she truly just worked there. And while she wanted to say something snarky, she realized she didn't even know what he was talking about and the last thing she wanted to do was look dumb. Besides, she couldn't properly criticize something she didn't understand. Letting her dumb curiosity get the better of her, she said "Can you tell me more about it?" After all, she didn't want to say something stupid like 'What does that even mean?'
Tentatively taking the flyer, she said "Is it just for small businesses in the city? Or is it, like, open to the public?" Sure, they could always get more publicity to encourage visitors but she didn't really want to do that. She liked the fact that on most days, she only gave three or four tours a day, if that. It was a pretty easy low-stakes job and she wanted to keep it that way.
with: @takemyheart--pullitapart
where: the doll house burlesque club
when: april 1997
Deep breath. One, two. In, out. The mantra was running through her mind on a loop when she had stepped off the stage, and a voice had wormed its way through her eardrums. At first, she had written it off. It sounded familiar. Like the siren's lure that used to drag sailors toward the rockies of the waters and crash their ships in the honor of maidens that didn't exist. Then, it clobbered her over the head — harsh and heavy, and damaged her lungs like the hull of those ships, until she was feeling up with the water and she couldn't breathe. The voice had to be five feet away from her, and yet, she could remember how the breaths tore goosebumps into the path of her forearms.
"Why did you come to see my show?" Vyvyan's voice had a bite to it, akin to the sharp teeth that grazed her flesh that night, and narrowly avoided drawing fresh blood. Her lips were pursed so tight that they trembled, an ill-fitting touch to the confident vibrato that she did not exude on the inside. What fascinated this... monster so much that she was still shadowing the fallen starlet? Were there vampires after her adoptive parent, too? Whoever they had thought her to be, she was not it. "I'm not going to sit with you. Go away."
It was safe to say that after more than a few months of laying low, Dahlia was once again feeling like her overly-confident self, full of gusto and audacity. She hadn't seen the young woman since their encounter in that motel during the storm where her fear had been so palpable, she vampire could've practically tasted it. And she'd wanted to taste her--and not in a romantic way but in a carnal, primal way, given that she full moon had been shining bright that night, sending her and all others like her into a frenzy. Yet, the night hadn't ended in blood and in a satisfying meal but instead, it'd left her feeling even more confused.
Because she looked just like Sabel. Exactly like her. Only Sabel hadn't been blind--but who's to say she couldn't have lost her eyesight over the last hundred years? Still, though, the woman certainly didn't act like Sabel--either that or that bitch was a damn good actress. But as time passed, as Dahlia followed in her pursuit, discovered where she worked even, she was more and more curious about her origins. Sure, they say 'everyone has a twin' and all that bullshit. But a woman who looked exactly like Sabel running around Las Vegas? It couldn't be a coincidence. And she was intrigued, not to mention motivated by her lust for revenge. If this girl wasn't Sabel, she had to have some sort of connection...right?
So the dark-haired woman had found herself at the girl's latest show--apparently, her name was Vyvyan. Right. And she'd been lying in wait, knowing she had the element of surprise on her hands. So when the performer came off the stage, she gave a wolfish grin and said "Beautiful set tonight. I didn't realize you were so talented." Her grin only grew wider as she saw the recognition on the woman's face and could practically feel the tingles that were most likely running down her spine. It was delicious.
Why did you come to see my show? Feigning innocent surprise, she said "Because I heard you were good. And it turns out, the reviews weren't wrong." I'm not going to sit with you. Go away. She was trying to be brave. It was precious, really. "You're not going to take the time to chat with an adoring fan? That's not very gracious of you. I figured you'd have better etiquette than that--don't prove me wrong. Why don't you sit with me, just for a bit? I promise I won't bite."
open starter @boneyardstarters
location: pizza overlord
when: late april, a little after 10 pm
with: lacey & open ( 0/4 )
“It was Elvis impersonation night at the Rivera.” Lacey tells the little old lady watching him after he placed his order for pizza. He gives her a gentle nod before grabbing his drink and heading towards an open table. He could feel the woman's eyes still on him as he takes a seat at table.
But he ignores it and forces himself to not stare at her back. Lacey didn't like being spotted with his hair still styled as Elvis. He wasn't sure if he was doing it right. He was having fun though pretending to be "human" for a second despite wanting to rip everyone's throats out. He controlled himself and was a good vampire who worked hard to be normal like the ones around him. He must have been doing it right since he got many compliments from other Elvis impersonators. Which was fine because as far as he knew, they weren't cats and his secret was safe with Lacey. It's kind of funny how a vampire is scared of getting caught performing as Elvis rather than drink blood from someone.
He sighs as he finally looks around the rest of the restaurant, taking a look at who's about. It's then that he finally sees that he sat at a table already occupied by another person. "Please ignore how I look. I can only take one person staring at me 'cause of how I'm dressed." He's pretty sure the person has more important things to worry about. But yet he still finds himself wanting to strike up a conversation. "Do you like pineapple on pizza?"
Dahlia should've known venturing outside of her proverbial cave was a god damn mistake. All she'd wanted was some pizza but apparently, that was too much to ask for. She'd been enjoying her dinner alone, trying to ignore how crowded Pizza Overlord was, when suddenly, a stranger sat in the booth across from her. Please ignore how I look. I can only take one person staring at me 'cause of how I'm dressed. Oh, he was in for it. Who knows? Perhaps he'd be her next meal. After all, pizza tasted good and all but it's not like she needed it. What she needed was blood and perhaps he could be her unwilling donor. Perhaps. "Oh, it's not your getup that I have an issue with," she said, straight to the point, her voice sharp with sarcasm.
"Do you usually make yourself at home and sit with strangers? Or are you just doing it tonight because you're channeling The King?" Elvis was so stupid. He'd been a prick when he was alive and she'd never really understood the hype about him in Vegas. Then again, mortals were so easily fucking entertained. When he asked about pineapple on pizza, she scrunched her nose up in disgust. "Ew, no. Dressed like Elvis, sitting with a stranger, and you like pineapple on pizza? Three strikes and you're out, buddy." To be fair, it's not like she was really vying for his attention anyways--he wasn't her type.
For a moment, Wolf’s smile fell as he sensed a certain tone from this woman. It bounced back shortly, though, as he realized she wasn’t exactly wrong. “I think so,” he said as he started shuffling through papers on his desk. “Mine too. So I kinda pay myself, I guess.” He shrugged his shoulders as the thought passed out of his brain.
“Museum, museum, museum…” he muttered as he searched. “Oh! Cooper, right? Something like that. Yeah, I remember that call.” He turned back towards where his phone was and scooped up a post it. “Permits for… ah yeah. Nonprofit renewal. Those are…” He paused. Then, with a deliberate slowness, reached into a file cabinet and scooped out a file folder. With one eye closed, he opened the file. “Nice!” He exclaimed, having picked the right one.
Wolf slid the file over to the woman. “Looks like you were approved again. And since nonprofits get tax kickbacks…” His smile brightened again. “I guess your taxes pay your salary too! At least part of it.” He flipped open the folder to show the permit. “So if you can get Cooper to sign and return this one —“ His brow furrowed as he looked at it. “Or, I guess whoever Graham is. That would probably be better.”
When he mentioned that his taxes also paid his salary, she rolled her eyes and thought to herself That's besides the point. He wasn't really wrong but still, she hated when people just ignored her snarky quips. Instead, she just said "Right..." She stood and waited as he rifled through his papers. Cooper, right? Giving a small nod, she said "Uh, yeah, Graham Cooper." As she waited, she could feel her irritation simmering as the clerk closed his eyes and tried to pick out the correct file, as if it were a game or something. God, Alvaro must've fucking known that she'd have to deal with this shit, that's probably why he sent her out here. When he celebrated picking the right folder, she tried to bite her tongue. After all, she needed something from him so she probably shouldn't be a complete bitch--at least, not until the permit was in her hand. God, happy, enthusiastic people were fucking exhausting.
When he slid the file over, she picked it up and looked it over--though it's not like she knew what she was actually looking for. When he mentioned how apparently her taxes paid her salary as well, she raised her dark eyebrows at him for a just a moment. "Lucky me," she said, her voice monotone. So if you can get Cooper to sign and return this one — Or, I guess whoever Graham is. That would probably be better. She furrowed her brow for a second before she realized what he was saying. "Graham Cooper. It's a first and last name," she said, annoyed, as if he was supposed to know who her boss was. "Stupid, though. Who has a first name for a last name? Or vice versa?"
Just someone passing through. "Sure." The answer was noncommittal, but didn't convey whether or not she was unconvinced. Drawing the jacket tighter around her person, Kittiya cocked a brow, emboldened as she asked, "Seen any tourists getting flat tires around here lately?" The goosebumps on her arms led her to believe there was something that the other woman knew and didn't want to tell, and she could play the game as well as any ex-socialite entwined with the mob. Plus, she had a killer poker face. Dark eyes didn't trail away from the woman in front of them for long, scanning the treeline of the woods. "So, you probably saw a group of people drive by here around Halloween, right?"
Do you live up here? "No," they answered the follow-up question succinctly, a little bite in their bark, and took a step toward the stranger. "I'm trying to find some lunatic who thinks it's funny to go around slashing tires in the woods, I assume for shits and giggles just in time for the spooky holiday." Fingers unfurled from their jacket, waving about melodramatically, before scoffing and rolling their eyes. Honestly, the other didn't look like the type — except Kittiya couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to the story that she wasn't confessing. "If you live out here, then why are you walking along the road?"
She could tell by the stranger's 'Sure' that she didn't buy it but Dahlia wasn't really concerned whether she believed her or not. And when she inquired about 'tourists getting flat tires,' she was even more confused about why this woman was out here in the first place. Shaking her head and giving a polite smile, she said "Nope, I haven't heard anything about people getting flat tires. But I'll be sure to keep me eye out for that." When she questioned her about Halloween, she knew what this was about. After all, she'd been at the party herself, dressed up as a stupid shark. Playing along, she nodded and said "Oh, yeah, I remember that big party out here on Halloween night. It was awful loud and it went on a little too late for my liking." Since when did she start playing the role of a stuffy old lady? Right now, she supposed--but to be fair, technically, she was a stuffy old lady. She just didn't look it (at least, not the old part).
She could sense that the stranger was growing tired of her bullshit but personally, Dahlia could do this shit all day. After all, she was bringing up slashing tires as if she knew for a fact that Dahlia had been the one to do it herself. She may be a lot of things--like the fact that she was currently out stalking and then coming face-to-face with possible prey--but she wouldn't go so low as to slash someone's fucking tires, even just for fun. Besides, she'd spent most of that night worrying about Dusty, who had just told her that they and Khadroma were headed towards splitsville. "I mean, you might have a lot of suspects in that search. It's Halloween, people do crazy stuff, especially to scare people. It sounds like you may just need to cut your losses. I don't think you're getting your money back for those new tires." It seemed like that's what she was after, anyways. Retribution of some sort. If you live out here, then why are you walking along the road? Smart girl. She pretended to be taken aback by the question. "It's not really your business but if you must know, I'm trying to avoid tics. Limes disease is a nasty thing." It sounded stupid coming out of her mouth but humans were stupid themselves so she figured she might as well take her best shot. As they were standing there, verbally sparring, she began to get curious about the woman herself. "Are you really out here to find someone that slashed your tires or are you some sort of reporter? You've got a lot of questions."
Flattering me is usually your job. To her credit, the comment does make them laugh, if you can call it that - more a huff of incredulity. Lux wasn't particularly known for their charming demeanor; sure, they could play it up when they really wanted to, but they more often than not got off on that abrasive, direct nature than anything else. An air of enigma that usually ropes people in regardless of whether they want it to or not, Dahlia had tried her hand at achieving more for her own nosy endeavors, but Lux isn't so easy that lying in their bed a few times will get something precious out of them. Sex is sex, and they're not under any impression that it entitles you to something more just because.
And look at that, direct working as always, Lux orders their damn coffee and lets her pay, because they're the farthest thing from a gentleman, too, and if she wanted more of their time than what's on the table, then it's the least she could do. Especially if they're going to be indulging in some small talk, as it seems. Lux leans against the wall, arms crossed, a deep sigh. "You could say that." They finally give her a glance, an obvious little once over. Lux's turn to be nosy. "You been avoiding me, Ramos? Been a minute since I've seen your face."
Perhaps deep down, Dahlia could appreciate the fact that Lux put up with a lot of her bullshit. Not many people did. Not that she really minded. Usually, she preferred to push others away. It was easier this way. But something about Lux just made her keep coming back, even if part of it was admittedly because she was interested in information. However, Lux didn't crack easy and honestly, she admired them for it. She was used to getting her way by either seducing and/or terrifying others and the fact that neither really worked on the fellow vampire impressed her, even if it also might frustrate her at times.
Smirking when she saw the mechanic give her a once-over, her smile faded when they started asking their own questions. It was fair, she supposed, though she didn't like it. You been avoiding me, Ramos? Been a minute since I've seen your face. Shrugging, she said "I've been busy, what can I say? I've got a lot going down at the museum." It was obviously a lie but she also wasn't really trying to fool them. But what could she do? Admit that she'd gotten her ass kicked? They already knew that by now, they had to. "Why do you ask? Did ya' miss me?" she chuckled.
with: @boneyardstarters
where: cupid's arrow
when: first week of february
Boris didn't care for the glitz and glamor of most of the bars that littered the city of Sin, but he had to take it or leave it most nights. He ignored the fanfare and the shows that they hosted, intoxicated bastards placated by anything shiny and luring to the eye enough to dig deep into their wallets and slap another wad of cash for another round on the table, or maybe over-tip. He saw it at the Glitter Gulch Lounge all the time — his late wife had never been the type to run credit cards and pick money out of billfolds of people in too deep to notice. The Cupid's Arrow was more muted in a criminal sense, lively and vivacious colors and unique outfits compared to the unpalatable low-effort joints. Although he didn't have much conscious interest, his eyes lingered here and there, absorbing the on-going performance with a little more subdued apathy than usual. Tapping an empty glass and sliding it forward for another refill, the happenstance of a caught eye struck up conversation. "I hear this place almost got shut down the other week. They are thinking... Night Stalker is a regular here?" Surprisingly, really, that people weren't throwing down their elan and exiting in droves.
Dahlia was out hunting, yet again. She'd had to change up her venue, given that she was no longer welcome at the Mean-Eyed Cat Bar. Whatever. There were plenty of victims around here, it wasn't too difficult to find one. So as she sat at the bar, nursing her drink, her eyes lurking around the room, she looked upon a possible opportunity when the stranger spoke up. He had a think accent--Russian or Polish, maybe? Something Eastern European for sure. She couldn't help but chuckle at his words. The Night Stalker. People were so terrified of this one seemingly crazed serial killer--a man running around with a knife, terrorizing the city of Las Vegas. Little did these people know that technically, there were all sorts of serial killers running around Vegas, right under people's noses. One killer was bad enough. The town would lose its fucking mind if it knew just how many dangers lurked around every corner. Getting mugged was the least of your worries.
"Oh, please," she smirked. "That's such bullshit." Of course, she had less to fear than others if she ran into the Night Stalker, whether he be human or otherwise. She could hold her weight in a fight, especially one-on-one. If the Night Stalker did ever try to make her a victim, she'd make them pay for it. "If people are so worried about this boogeyman, they should tell the police to work harder to solve it. It seems like the LVMPD is doing nothing but twiddling their damn thumbs," she said, taking a sip of her drink. "It's pathetic, really." While it was true, she did think the police were pathetic, it's not like she really had any skin in the game. She was simply interested in seeing if she could turn this stranger into yet another victim. It would be ironic, really, for him to strike up a conversation about a serial killer, just to end up dead in an alley by the end of the night.
open starter for @boneyardstarters
location: city hall
It was a simple game. A pencil holder sat on the far side of Wolfgang's desk. With one eye shut, he would simply fling a pen at it. If he got it in? Three points. If he hit it? One. If he missed? Minus one point, unless he forgot. Wolf was currently on fifteen points. Or, at least, he thought he was. It was hard to write down his score when his pen was regularly on the other side of the desk.
Wolf closed one eye, lined up his shot and -- damn. Fourteen points. He went to mark down the loss only to realize his pen was on the floor on the far side of his desk. With an annoyed tsk, he stood up from his chair and circled around to retrieve it. He scooped down, picked up the projectile, and paused, trying to remember what his score was now. It didn't come to him - and no bother. It was written down on a sticky note on his desk.
He stood back up and, as he turned, caught sight of someone just entering the office door. He popped up with a bright smile. "Oh, heya. Is there something I can help you with?" Wolf moved back to behind his desk, taking a quick glance at his notes. Fifteen points. Nice. "Or - wait. I was supposed to have something ready for you, I think. It's probably almost done. Just, uh... what was it?"
Now Dahlia usually tried to stay as far away from City Hall as possible but today, she had been sent on an errand by her boss to pick up some permits for the museum. Normally, she'd be annoyed by this but she was shocking growing a little bored with her tours so it was nice to get out for a bit. Besides, she was intent on stretching it out. Perhaps after this, she'd go buy herself some lunch with the company card. What were they going to do? Fire her?
When she walked into the office, she saw the young man at the desk, amusing himself by tossing pens at a cup. God, humans are so fucking stupid, she thought to herself. They really had to make it harder for the monsters that walked upon them. At this rate, you could distract most humans with something shiny on a piece of string. It was child's play, really. She wanted until he was done with his little game to approach the desk and make herself known. He clearly didn't remember what she was here for--but how could he? It's not like they'd met before.
"Wow... Impressive. My tax dollars pay your salary, right?" she snarked, a know-it-all smile on her face. As if she really cared about fucking taxes. Still, she couldn't help but scoff at someone who was so stupidly happy and easily amused. Sure, she had been a human at one point but those days were long behind her and she was better off because of that. "I'm here to pick up some permits for the Deadly Possessions Museum? My boss should've called you about it."
with: @takemyheart--pullitapart
where: dahlia's home
when: anytime in february
"I don't know, the whole thing was... surreal."
How else did someone describe a severed head smacking right into the glass of the radio station, like someone had dropped it out of the sky or flung it up there? He had a million questions. Like, firstly, if it was coming from below, it would take formidable strength to pull back someone's arm and launch something that weighed about as much as a decent bowling ball. They would have had to have been a sports player, at one point in their lives, or at least touted a talent of strength. It was something one would find in the beefy guys working at the carnivals he had traveled around with.
A hand clapped against his forehead, sinking further into the couch. "And to top it off, if I didn't want it to look bad on me, I had to agree to give the Vitellis a hand. Now I have no fucking clue how to get out of it," only that he could get himself buried under it if they found out something he didn't want them to. "I don't know what to do," he admitted to his best friend, not that he thought she did, either — Dahlia wasn't exactly the kind of woman apt to keep her nose clean, but she'd managed to have a decently clean record, at that. His best laid plans were crafted so carefully, and this... he had no control over. Everything had snowballed out of hand. "And maybe I should tell Khadroma, but she doesn't need any more pressure breathing down her neck with that blackmail loomin' over her."
When Dusty had called her up and said he had something to tell her, that is not what she'd been expecting. To be fair, it's not like she was bothered by gore--but even she did her best to not decapitate her victims, which really wasn't that difficult. Sure, perhaps she appreciate the drama of it all but it was so damn messy, it was hardly worth it. Though of course, it's not like Dusty knew that. He was her best friend but even so, some things were better left unsaid and unknown. It was for his own good.
"Holy shit..." she said, once his story was over. He was clearly shaken and she wished there was something she could do about that, though she knew there wasn't. However, when he mentioned the part about the Vitellis, that's where she really got concerned. Once they got their claws in someone, they never really seemed to let go. "Shit... I wish I could give you some...words of comfort but once they scratch your back, they never really ask you to stop scratching theirs... I mean, are you close with anyone in that family? Maybe they could do you a solid?..." It's not like she had those sorts of connections. After all, she tried her best not to fraternize with her enemies except Lux, of course.
When he pondered about telling Roma, she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Their whole split had seemingly come out of nowhere and she had a hard time not blaming Roma for all of it. After all, it'd been her lies that had torn them apart, right? Still, she tried not to voice her newly found dislike for the woman, not wanting to upset her best friend. Still, his question was valid. Should he tell her? "I mean... Even if you did tell her, what could be done about it? Wouldn't that just give her more to worry about?" Sure, if they were still together, perhaps it'd be a good idea to be honest but the way she saw it, Dustin didn't really owe Khadroma honesty anymore.
Kittiya didn't like loose ends. The kind of sabotaging prankster that had gone around prior to Goob Lagoon — and after, if it was the same one who had warped the performance piece — wasn't one that the former socialite was looking to leave hanging. For all they knew, it could be a straggling soul from their past. A living, breathing one who was pissed at a transgression of Kittiya's, or another. Perhaps, an enemy of someone else in the car with Annaki. Nonetheless, their loyalty was neither bought nor sold. It was earned bit by bit, accrued in the currency of a feline that did what it so pleased. "Who are you?" When the figure emerged and showed herself, she wasn't the faceless silhouette of a man that daunted about every slasher movie on the shelves. Couldn't the killer ever be a woman, like that brilliant piece, Happy Birthday to Me? "So far off the grid. Do you live up here?"
Their questions came in quick succession, and without answering the other woman's remark. It wasn't a question, after all. Had the other already made up her mind, what was she to do about it? The forest around them had fallen silent, as if the audience of nature were listening in on them. Naught a single breeze whistled through the trees. It waited with baited breath for the next move, portraying them in a spaghetti Western stand-off. To keep it fair, they showed their hands. "Hm, neither do you. That's interesting. So, are you going to answer me, or are we going to stand here and make eye contact like lovers?"
Who are you? Dahlia silently debated how honest to be. Why give up valuable information to a total stranger? Then again, if she were to kill them, it wouldn't really matter either way, right? But just because she'd been stalking her prey didn't necessarily mean she was planning on feeding right now. Truthfully, she'd been intrigued by them and had wanted to know more. They were clearly poking around, looking for something. She chuckled when they implored her to answer their questions. As if she owed them any answers. She almost made a joke that they could be lovers but she figured that wouldn't bode well. They were spunky, though--she'd give them that.
Finally, she said "Just someone passing through. And you?" She figured it was best to be vague. So far off the grid. Do you live up here? Giving a nod, she said "Yeah, I live back through the woods there." She gave a glance over her shoulder, as if she was looking off into the distance of her non-existent home. "I was just strolling through when I saw you. Do you live up here? I haven't seen you around before..." She hadn't originally intended on taking on the appearance of a nearby neighbor but how would they know the difference? She was almost positive that they didn't live near the lagoon, though of course, she didn't know for sure.
It was a bad day -- their life a series of bad days. The coffee machine at the shop broke, because Lux -- no, Frank -- hired a bunch of fucking idiots, and they weren't planning on babysitting. So they went to get themself something hot, because fuck the rest of them.
Except the line is taking too long. Someone behind them keeps clearing their throat like Lux is supposed to move faster by force of passive aggression alone. Lux hasn't slept. Their shirt still smells like the shop, cigarettes ground into fabric, metal heat and old grease. They look like they crawled out from under a car because they did.
Then Dahlia turns around with her little oh wow face like she's in on a joke nobody else gets. Fuck my life.
Lux doesn't smile in a greeting, just a small curl of their lip. Their eyes slide over her, quick and tired, taking inventory. She looks… fine. Of course she does. They scratch the side of their jaw with the back of their knuckles, blunt nails. They can feel the barista staring at them like they're going to steal the register, dirt under their shoe. Lux considers it for a second, mostly out of spite.
"Don't flatter yourself." Their voice is dry, low effort. They don't give Dahlia the satisfaction of more, mostly because they can't be bothered to play games today. Lux's gaze flicks up to Dahlia's face again. "You done?" they ask, blunt. "Or are you gonna keep standing in the way? At least buy me something."
Dahlia could tell that the second she opened her mouth, Lux was already tired of her--or too tired for her. She wasn't sure which, and she wasn't sure which was worse. It's not as if they were romantically involved. No, what they had was strictly physical and the vampire had originally sought it out with the sole purpose of getting information from the other side. Not that that had really worked in her favor but whatever. Still, even if Lux wasn't thrilled to see her, it's not like she was about to show any genuine disappointment in that fact.
Don't flatter yourself. "Well, someone's gotta' pick up the slack--flattering me is usually your job." She couldn't help herself but to push buttons. It was her specialty. You done? Or are you gonna' keep standing in the way? At least buy me something. She smirked and pulled her wallet out. "That can be arranged," she said, stepping up so she could stand with Lux at the register. "Whatever they're having," she said to the barista, pulling out some cash.
Perhaps if she wasn't so damn terrified by vulnerability, she might utter some nonsense about how she'd missed the mechanic's company but she figured Lux didn't want to hear that shit anyways. Besides, it would only make her look weak and she couldn't afford that, especially not now. So her only option, really, was to be a cheeky bastard as always. She could smell the scent of oil and cigarettes on Lux and she figured they'd come directly from work. "Tough day at the autobody shop?" she asked as they stepped to the side to wait for Lux's order. She thought about tacking on a 'You're welcome, by the way,' for the coffee order but even Dahlia knew that'd probably be twisting the knife a little too far. They were clearly having a shit day. She wasn't (always) that heartless.
I'm there for the important stuff, aren't I? Honestly, Duck-young couldn't deny that, and it was part of why the predicament that he found himself in was... strenuous on his conscience. He wanted to tell someone, and have a shoulder to lean in, but was it too premature? More to the point — did he deserve to grieve it at all when he and Khadroma had dealt equal hands toward the demise of their relationship? Focus pivoting away from the logistics and creativity of Halloween costumes, he pulled the rack of clothing together, effectively shielding his face from view across from her. At least until he thought he could grin and bear it. If there ever was a skill that he had perfected seamlessly, it was how to smile for the crowd, to crack jokes and play as if nothing were amiss. Arguably hypocritical when he'd thrown in the face of his first wife that he didn't like the façade she was asked to craft. Big entertainment had always seemed so phony, and unfitting of someone who had been nothing less than himself — until circumstances were... murky, and he instinctively understood that most people were allergic to the downsides of the friendship rollercoaster ride. A funhouse of mirrors was only easygoing until he had to face himself, alone. "I'd... prefer not to talk about it in a mall outlet, if that's okay." The admission alone was like pulling the sword from his throat. "We're kind of... goin' through a rough patch. I don't know. Maybe everythin' was too easy between the two of us." There were no obstacles to overcome. Little annoyances. They nestled up to the tragedies they could relate too and got comfortable.
"I don't really think I feel like shoppin' for costumes anymore right now, if that's okay." He stepped out from behind the rack, signaling for his service dog to follow suit, a soft breath exiting his nose. Flashing her a grin out of second nature when she attempted to bring levity to their little shopping failure, he chuckled, an air of unease threaded through it. Dahlia knew all the nitty-gritty, of course — how he was without parents from an unsolved murder, he lost his first son to the ills of the entertainment industry, and the sanity of his first spouse along with. To everyone else, it must appear like the human spirit was unimpeded by trials that would drive everyone else, Melissa included, to the brink of madness. Though he'd traipsed along that edge and clambered onto the other side, he'd pulled himself back before he'd gone too far off the deep end. "Actually, I should probably take more of my medication. Maybe we could grab something from the food court and talk in the car?"
While Dahlia could feel that Dusty was shying away from a difficult conversation, shielding his face to maybe get a moment to recollect himself, the vampire wasn't about to call him out on it. After all, that would be hypocritical as shit. She never explained her emotions, never opened up to really anyone, and she never sought advice from anyone unless she absolutely had to. And anyways, she'd just refused to talk about what was bothering her. So she didn't say anything and just nodded when he requested that they not speak about it at the mall. It made her wonder if he was worried about someone overhearing them--and who would even listen in on a conversation like that? What stranger would care that much? But even with her internal questions, she just let it lie. "Yeah, sure," she said quietly. That's partly why she was so surprised when he did decide to divulge more info just a moment later. We're kind of... goin' through a rough patch. I don't know. Maybe everythin' was too easy between the two of us. So perhaps he did want to talk about it after all. She scrunched her face up in confusion at that comment, though she didn't say anything. What the fuck did that even mean? Things being...too easy? Wasn't it...good if relationships felt easy and not overly complicated? She didn't really know either way. She didn't know anything about being in a relationship--or at least, she hadn't for a very long time. She didn't bother with that sort of thing anymore, it was a waste of time and caused her far too much exposure than she could afford.
She was more than a little relieved when he gave up on the shopping trip. "Yeah, sure," she said, coming around the other side of the rack so she could see him clearly. "You'll find something, don't worry," she said, a rare and oddly hopeful sentiment falling from her lips. "And hey, even if you don't, we can bail on it together--you know I love cancelling plans last minute," she grinned. When he mentioned his medication, she felt the strange sensation of her stomach turning just a bit. She remembered back to that rainy night of the storm, when she'd been fucking starving, the full moon not doing her any favors, desperate to find sustenance. That's all she'd been able to think about that night--that was until Dusty had doubled over, a seizure taking over his senses. Dahlia didn't scare easily but in that moment, she'd felt true terror, so afraid that she was about to watch her friend die. So at the mention of medicine, she was suddenly eager to go to that nasty food court and get something to pick at while her friend made sure he wasn't taking his meds on an empty stomach. "Yeah, let's do it!" she said, her voice a little uncharacteristically enthusiastic. Talking in the car sounded ideal. After all, she could understand one wanting their privacy.
