Realistic or Modern ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʟᴇᴀɴ ᴏɴ ᴍᴇ [1x1]

[Farai]

On September 17th, the night was cold and the sky was sprinkling a few drops from its clouds. To a great degree, it was silent, except for the sounds of cars and people walking by. Only a few people walked along the sidewalk, either walking towards or away from the club. The club was one of the few in the area, and travelling to any other would take you to a completely different side of the city. For that reason, it was quite popular, and if you were to come, you’d be waiting in a long line that stretched across the street and sometimes even onto the road. If you were important or had special access, obviously you’d get to just go through immediately without having to wait. There was nothing particularly special about Porcelein’s Nightclub, but if you compared it to any other club in the area, it was substantially better. The drinks were said to be good, and they cleaned up after a night’s worth of partying. That said, there are still whatever you consider the normal club activities. The same people still go there as well.

It was currently 9:30 pm and Isaiah was just about to start his shift for tonight. He approached the nightclub slowly, and the booming music from inside was getting louder. There weren’t many people around unless you count the people waiting in line to go inside. For the most part, Isaiah didn’t mind, but he just couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being... watched? He didn’t know, but he just felt weird. Well, the atmosphere near a club was always weird.

If you focused enough, you could feel the ground shaking slightly. When Isaiah first went in there, he couldn’t hear a single word other people were saying. When he left his ears were pounding, for days. Just before reaching the start of the building, he turned a corner and headed towards the back of the building. He never understood why the door where the staff entered was so far away. Isaiah had been working there for a few months, so he doesn’t have the right to complain..yet. Isaiah had many and couldn’t wait for the day.

He eventually reaches the door, and just before opening it, Isaiah pauses. He could hear someone shouting from the other side. He leaned in slightly, trying to listen. The person was talking about him, they were always talking about him. Isaiah guessed he was just too famous. It was probably another employee. Talking about how he’s always late and doesn’t understand why the owner is keeping him around just because he’s popular with a few regular attendees. After letting the person finish their rant, he turned the doorknob and entered. He didn’t feel like pleading his case, and honestly, he shouldn’t have to. This is the only time he’s been late in a while, and despite that, it was only 30 minutes.

Isaiah placed his bag down and slipped off the shirt he was wearing and put on his "work shirt". It didn’t have the logo or anything special on it; it was just a long-sleeved black button-up shirt. The one they recommended was far too expensive for no apparent reason. As he buttons his shirt, some people tell him to hurry up, but he only grumbles in response. He’s already can’t wait for his shift to end and for him to go home and sleep. Once he was done tucking the shirt into his pants, he headed out into the bar. He was washing his hands at the sink when he heard a voice behind him. Isaiah didn’t hear what they said, but they probably asked him to serve them a drink. He shook his hands dry and headed in the general direction where he heard the person speak. It was someone he knew. From what Isaiah has heard, she comes here every night, and when he’s not working, she asks where he is. She’s always drunk and always ordering more drinks than she needs.

Her tolerance must be through the roof if she’s drinking that much. Isaiah guessed she was a sex worker or didn’t have her life together, but no one really knows. She had long black hair and long legs, and her face was somewhat pretty. She could easily find a man that would pay for her drinks, but she always paid for herself. She was weird, but Isaiah liked her because she always gave fat tips. He loves tips, especially because he gets to keep them all to himself, and he loves customers that give a lot of tips. Sometimes he’ll be walking out with hundreds in his hands because this lady will keep sliding him fifty-dollar bills.

She let out a sigh before propping her head up with her hand. "I’ve missed you. The other bartenders don’t make the drinks as you do. You actually put care into each drink you make instead of just trying to get it out as quickly as possible. I can taste it.."

After a bit of one-sided small talk mostly on her end, she eventually ordered her drink and walked away to wherever she goes every time she orders. Isaiah knew she was going to be back in a few minutes, but it was still "good riddance". She never talked about anything interesting, she looked like she lived here so how many clubs story the same thing? A lot.

A few hours had passed and he had only a few more minutes until his shift ended. The night was pretty slower than usual. He didn’t feel any pressure to get to the next customer who was staring him down from across the bar. Or muttering about how it’s taking a million years to finish such a simple drink. It took everything in him not to tell them to come up here and make their drink then if he’s taking too long. He finished up his last drink for the night and gave it to the customer before going to clean the area up. Isaiah started with sweeping and then started to wash and wipe the cups down. He kept glancing at the time. It’s always near the end of his shift when time seems to go slower...



Mana-kun

 

[Mana-kun]

It had been less than a month since Nicolas had made a place for himself in this very club that he would often find himself at. Nothing about the club stood out of the ordinary, and of course, having the amount of money that he did, he was able to skip such a dreadful wait.

With his briefcase in hand and clutched at the handle, his polished heels clicked against the flooring below as he idly wandered about in search of his regulars in need. Unfortunately, business was running slow, even as the hours passed, and as the club's inhabitants grew. Here and there, he'd get the occasional woman complimenting him for his looks, such as his glossy ebony locks styled which were styled away from his brow alabaster face. He'd even gotten a few compliments on how piercing his bright his eyes looked. He was used to women touching against his black slacks--one woman even placed her hand against his black turtle-neck sweater ad against his neck, rubbing against the bandage placed against the side of his neck and underneath the fabric. Out of all of the women, she caught his attention in a negative way, being reminded of his past and how he became the creature that he was, swatting her hand away and removing himself from his seat and taking his briefcase, but not without a harsh insult hurled towards her.

He was bored; ravenous, too, his eyes scanning briefly scanning the crowd of humans that mingled before him. Nicolas always yearned for more when it came to his everyday interactions. The feeling of emptiness clouded the vampire's chest.

Blood.

He couldn't go much longer. Pangs of hunger plagued him, yet tonight, he felt extremely particular to what he wanted to taste. Sure, in the past, he took samples from a few regulars, but their blood was paltry. It always left him unsatisfied, and the copious amount of alcohol always made the vampire feel as though his sustenance was bitter. So, once more, he glanced about, this time taking notice of a young man dealing with the usual heckling of his customers.

He couldn't help but wonder how someone was able to continue on in the barkeep's situation--it wasn't the first time that Nicolas had taken notice of this, yet, even seeing this bartender around, he still had yet to directly order a drink from him, so he made his prowl onward. If one were to watch, then blink, he would be extraordinarily closer, though none seemed to pay him mind. They were all drunk, or high, dancing in a fervor to the booming music which played from above.

Finally making it to his destination, he stood at the bar while watching the other tidy up in silence. A minute or so passed before his tongue darted across his cold lips, the other's deep skin smelling tantalizing from where he stood. Thus far, he liked what he saw. Clearing his throat, he finally broke the tension.

"Already done?" Nicolas' voice trilled in amusement, though his expression soon grew stern.

In a swift motion, he raised his briefcase to rest against the bar's surface, then reached into his pocket to pull out a stuffed wallet. Moments later, he slid a fifty on over.

"Get me a drink and bring it to me. You can keep the change," he added, speaking a little louder so his voice could be heard over the music. Instead of placing his wallet away, he took out a single hundred-dollar bill and slid it across the counter. "Why don't you give me thirty minutes of your time? It's yours if you want it." Of course, he was referencing to the bill that he'd just taken out.

"I'll be in here," he said, opting to leave the bill regardless if the other would agree. Money was no concern for the vampire.

Giving the other a brief flash of his devilish fangs that was too quick to be seen, he reached for his briefcase, made a nod towards an exclusive room that he had already reserved, and went towards it, disappearing behind the room's curtained door. Inside, the tiles of the floor were lit in a bright neon, the colors ever changing and spreading its light in flecks beneath the silver disco ball, above. "Gaudy," he thought. Nicolas was used to entire rooms being decked in gold. Casually, he sat at the end of a leather sectional after placing his case down besides him, pondering if the other would take his offer.

 

[Farai]

Isaiah walked around the bar, wiping down the splattered liquor on the counter. He didn't notice the other male who was looking at him. He didn't seem to mind because he hadn't requested a drink. It's not like Isaiah would have offered him one in the first place. He continued in silence, only thinking of one thing: "Home."

He was able to secure a really lovely two-bedroom apartment through negotiation. To be honest, he should be paying more for it. It was huge, and Isaiah knew they'd have to raise the price at some point; they couldn't just sell it for the same amount as a one-bedroom apartment. The landlord agreed, but whenever they tried to increase the rent, Isaiah became irritable. He sent them emails and messages, and he assumed they were bored of it, so his rent was reduced to its original retail price.

When he heard the others clear their throats, he finished putting away the remaining few cups and bottles of booze. 'Now he wants to get a drink just as I'm about to go.' He paused for a moment, then rolled his eyes at himself. He listened quietly, his black eyes changing with each movement of the manmade.

Except for the quick eye-roll, his face was passive, but when the other slid the hundred dollar bill, his face screwed up somewhat. He cast a short glance at the other's features before seeing him enter the exclusive room. With a sigh, Isaiah ran his fingers over his short curls.

He was obviously going to accept the bill and leave. He's aware of what's going to happen in that room and isn’t up for it. He frowned just thinking about it, but the bill was enticing, to say the least. Money was attractive in general, especially if you're as desperate as he is right now. He can simply leave if it comes to it, and he might obtain more money. He stands there for a minute or two, simply contemplating it. He takes the bill and stuffs it into his pocket, biting his bottom lip in annoyance. He sighs again and slowly walks over to the bar to get a cup and a bottle of alcohol.

He also makes the drink slowly, as if he's being forced to. He knows he isn't, that he is acting of his own volition. He's continually convincing himself that he's not doing it for those reasons as he pours the liquid into the cup. The guy was at the very least appealing... Isaiah could say that. He grimaced as he complimented a man who had paid him to hook up with him. Isaiah is surely worth more than this meagre $100 cash. He had no idea how these things operated, though.

He takes the glass and makes his way into the room after he's finished. He'll just leave it at that; there's no money involved; that guy appeared and acted like he was loaded. The proof is how nonchalantly he slid the bill towards Isaiah. He entered the room and looked around before taking a step undefined the door. He'd never been in one before because there was no reason for him too. It was basically what he expected, nothing out of the ordinary. The music from outside was somewhat muffled in here; it was still loud but the two could probably hear each other talk. Isaiah could even hear his own thoughts clearly, which was nice for once. He continued his journey, which felt long after he had enjoyed his few moments of peace. Even though he was only taking a few steps, it felt like he was walking across a desert.

"Here, your drink." He said as he extended his arm with the glass, and held onto the glass with his hand. He spoke in a low and polite tone, avoiding eye contact. Occasionally he did sneak a glance or two but didn’t hold his eyes on the other for more than 2 seconds. He wasn’t afraid, wasn't nervous either, but he felt uneasy and unsure of what to do. Uncomfortable? It wasn't exactly the right word, but it came close to what he was feeling.

 

[Mana-kun]

When the drink was offered to him, the vampire took it, his cold fingers brushing against the other's hand with prolonged contact before he took it, glass in hand. Ironically, he placed the drink on the table, not wishing to drink it at that moment; a move that may vex the other, considering that Nicolas had the gall to interrupt the other as he was closing. Furthermore, he continued to analyze the other, his omnipresent gaze there whenever the other would sneak a look at him. The human seemed nervous. It was normal to feel that way whenever Nicolas would approach for a solicited, one-on-one conversation.

The vampire didn't bother with the pleasantries of thanking his server, though he offered up a light chuckle. Humans were something else. Blinking, and turning his attention away from the male, Nicolas bent forward to open the clasps of his briefcase. Inside, stacks of new, neatly-arranged money that was bound by bands. This was the kind of money that could get him killed--had he been alive, though he was no stranger to assassination attempts.

"Interested?" Nicolas returned to leering at his pray as though he were a prized steak. "Let's get straight to the point," he motioned, the money being the obvious star of the room. Three fingers raised for the other to see, he would quiz his guest. He would let his money talk for him if it could. "Three questions..."

The vampires bony digits reached for a stack, waving it to tease the other before placing it upon his lap.

"What's your name?" Nicolas was smug when he took the band off, thumbing through the crisp, unmarked bills. He wasn't even counting it. Without bothering to let the other answer just yet, he cleared his throat, the arcs of his fangs peeking from beneath his lips as he spoke, proceeding to ask the other a question that no-one would expect.

"...Do you believe in vampires?" Nicolas did his all to withhold a deep chuckle, though a hum low in timbre did sound. Again, another stack soon joined the other.

Here, he posed his last question; the vampire tuning out the music from beyond the curtain. There was a darkness in his aura as his lips wrenched into a fanged grin, this time letting the other see what he was, lastly reaching for the last stack, daring to make a miniature pyramid, the sum of which equating to three-thousand dollars.

"So how about a fuckin' deal?"