Stranded in this spooky town

Union Square 
#1
There were many different aspects of human culture that had survived the many years. Each had morphed and adapted in its own way, of course, but there were a few things that were just as primal as they had always been. Dancing, in its many different forms, was one of those things that had stayed with humans over the centuries. Ramses, though he did not usually participate, had always found himself more drawn to the more sensual, and usually Latin, styles of dance. Salsas, boleros, etc.

The familiar beat of salsa music was actually what drew him in now, the promise of an easy hunt filtering through the back of his mind. When they were drinking and dancing, people were mostly unaware of such a predator in their midst and it made the pickings quite easy, though he was not so uncouth as to just snatch one away. He would find someone that was willing to feed him, or someone that he could convince to do so; telepathy made such things even easier, his power sweeping through the crowd very briefly as he melted into the gyrating crowd to begin his hunt, body moving in time with the music and the lively pulse of the people around him.
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#2
 It was frequently a matter of feast or famine depending on where you were in the world - Colorado for her part, was kind more often than not. Particularly if you had the experience and knew exactly where to look, places like this were ideal - plenty of food and drink, crowded, movement and organized chaos. The sort of tempest that made it easy to spirit a person away in the heat of the moment as long as you gave them enough time to be lulled by the tempo into a false sense of security. She'd been meandering for the better part of an hour, her camera hung round her neck by the thick leather strap as a wordless excuse explanation for her staring. A built-in alibi for her surveying as she weighed her options like she was stood over the curved glass of a butchers cabinet. 

 Still, it wasn't all shooting fish in a barrel and feeling superior in every potential sense, it was a slowly evolving breed of madness. All that blood just softly contained, the smells and the sounds - all dialed up with what she knew was just round the horizon, a narrow-minded focus on the feast that she had leaned to reel in with decades yet never quite quashed entirely.

 In struck her like a couple on an out-spin, a proverbial shoulder to the side that was enough to stop her in her tracks. Tilting her head as she looked over faces - happy smiles, laughter, flushed cheeks and curls of hair stuck to skin from the heat generated from so much dancing. More common than not - but there was one composed poker face she could spot through a flourish of movement. Familiar at once, enough so that the tension she carried in her jaw and shoulders relaxed at once as she gave a wide birth to the heart of the storm and made her way round.

"It's as they say, great minds think alike."
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#3
 Perhaps he should have picked up on the presence of another but even he, as old as he was, made mistakes. Focused on the pulsing, thrashing, dancing swarm of bodies, it wasn't until she'd closed in on him, speaking to him, that Ramses realized his error. While he did not startle, the Egyptian did pause, a stillness settling over him for a moment that only the dead could achieve. With the humans around them drunk and preoccupied, he found little worry that someone would notice; still, he drew in an unnecessary breath before turning his head to look at the one who interrupted his hunt.

 A thread of recognition, a face that bore familiarity, but it was the press of her mind that was more familiar than that. Margaux Auclair. It hadn't been too terribly long since he'd last seen her, though it was curious that she, too, ended up in the mountainous city. A coincidence, he was sure.

 "That they do," Ramses replied evenly, glancing to his left as someone bumped into him. "Your photography is coming along, I take it?" He knew, of course, though he did not utilize such tactics. Ramses resorted to older methods, playing the long-game, as the young ones called it nowadays.
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#4
 "Kind of you to ask," She ran her thumb along the strap of the camera, made sure it wasn't twisted round her neck and grinned as she looked about. "Just hoping for some reference shots for my next piece, the painting business isn't in a renaissance with all the mediums available but - it's important to keep current." Mindful of her phrasing even as she lifted the camera to catch a quick succession of shots of a woman a few feet ahead and to her right whose dress moved particularly flowy as she spun round.

"Business or pleasure?" Motioning about and trusting that he knew well enough that she didn't mean the square - both personal history and abilities considered.
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#5
"It is truly a shame that digital media has become so popular. There is a certain quality that is lost between film and computers." An opinion he had developed over many years working in the museum, and one he was not easily swayed from. Margaux, too, seemed to think similarly, if she was working with film. Judging by the gentle whir of the camera's inner mechanisms, that was exactly what she was doing. He fell silent for the moment, allowing her to work while he lifted a cup to his lips, feigning a sip as their kind was wont to do.

"A bit of both, I suppose. Mainly pleasure this evening. The liveliness of the crowd drew me in. I figured it would be a good way to spend my night off." Not from the museum but from shadowing his Dominus, keeping an eye on the man whenever he roamed outside of his own club. "Join me for dinner, Ms. Auclair. We can catch up over a meal."
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