Last call

Lavender Heights 
outfit, but no fabulous color pop tie

It was right around time for bars to close, an ideal hour to be hunting. The night was cool and foggy, the latter offering a sort of blanketing effect to Beauregard's footsteps as he walked.

He sincerely wasn't sure what the outcome of this little excursion would be. Ophelia held her cards close, and he was uncertain she would take particular interest in any role. Beauregard found somewhat unexpectedly that he did like her, spotting some keen intelligence even in the face of clumsy mistakes. In the end, she hadn't allowed Aiden to go unpunished, and she hadn't let the incident send her into hiding.

Early as always, he took a very voluntary breath of misty air, waiting for the other vampire to appear out of the fog.



 At least in the social sense, if life could be equated to an agility course, it felt like she was clipping every fucking ring on the jump through. Managing but skating on ice so thin that you could hear it crack underfoot with every slight movement. Ill-fitted attempts, but she kept getting up to try again because resilience was - well, because she was stubborn. Because when it was all boiled down to bones, she had little interest in closing herself off and hypothetically waiting for the sun to take her.

 Undone by an overripened child and a couple inferred misfortunes - not today, not ever. Still, it was like pulling teeth to convince herself that blowing off Beauregard of all people was a massive misstep. What would she even say? She was sick? Besides, she supposed, it would be a good use of her energy, the pent-up power that rattled the lid of her control and threatened to burst through. It felt worse and better all at once as of late, a lot of red tape and yet also a good deal of confidence gained as she woke with a second wind one sunset. Stronger (or so she thought), more tuned in - the slightest nudge to the left of a stereo knob and suddenly everything was clearer than ever before.

 All the same it was cold and foggy and somewhat of a cliche, but she welcomed it all the same and kept her jacket held tightly around her. The silhouette was familiar enough, the lack of a heartbeat outright telling even before she was able to make him out properly. "Evening, I hope I'm not running late ..."

He felt her drawing nearer, and it was a sensation he still found novel. Beauregard thought often back to Margaux's assessment of him, the den mother. Certainly he'd grown since then. Sometimes he thought he regretted not seeing her again before her untimely passing, but truthfully, he did not doubt that she could manage some ugly damage to him if it inspired her.

Mad bitch.

To her comment, he shook his head.

"We have all the time in the world," he said. But there was something else more notable, something he'd perhaps missed in the thrum of the party. Beauregard began to walk, assuming she would keep pace at his side, and spoke with some smile in his voice.

"You're stronger, now." His voice fell some. "Do you have an animal form yet?"

 Time jokes, familiar but all the less a bit unnerving when one got too wrapped up in the fine print. In the world, namely - the fact that a time would come in the very distant future where even that long and sordid life would come to a close. She made no remark on it, slowed down enough to fall in beside him, perhaps a single stride behind at any given point as she glanced over her shoulder out of cautious habit alone before the conversation turned to her.

 "I thought perhaps that was in my head." Some sort of mental second wind that saw her trying to fortify and build herself up, surely not any great stride where power was concerned after so many years of the same. "I'm glad to hear it's not." The idea of being able to move freely as anything but herself had always been an enviable one, but all the same, the question made her chuckle. "Not to my knowledge? I wouldn't even know how one goes about finding that out."

outfit, the bar she popped out of is one block down and she's heading towards them

Last call! Formally known as the worst time of the night, when you could no longer drink like the Finn you are and you must instead return to the world of consequences.

Rika had been killing it at an open mic karaoke bar, and stumbled out with her friends still giggling amidst the chorus of "I Want It That Way" that they'd started when the bartenders announced the bar was now closed.

Feeling warm and happy and almost one hundred percent certain this was going to end in the world's worst hangover and possibly barfing, she gave them both friend kisses on the cheek as she bid them farewell for the night and started heading down the other way.

Feeling hyper focused in a way she absolutely was not, she stared up at the "Don't Walk" sign defiantly and walked a little catwalk across the street like it couldn't tell her what to do.

She was just really lucky it was like 3 AM and there didn't happen to be a car vrooming up ready to run her over.

Oooh, she hadn't yet discovered it. Beauregard found great delight in that, knowing the many clumsy ways a form could be discovered. There was little knowing what she could be; such abilities had no requirement to match preference or personality.

"Accidentally, usually," he said with amusement. "Attempting to utilize one power and stumbling into another."

Perhaps he could try to compel it from her, though Beauregard was uncertain that would work. Would she have some deep inner sense that would allow her to comply?

Speaking of stumbling, however, there was some drunk little creature stalking toward them. Dinner, perhaps, and fangs threatened already.

"You take the lead," he said quietly, a smile on his face as he watched the woman. "I will assist in any way you'd like."

Only a small test. Beauregard was not a lazy hunter, but he did enjoy watching the natural inclinations of others in his clutch.

 The idea of trying to force the truth out of someone and accidentally turning into a dog in the process was about the furthest thing from appealing. She grimaced, wondered how much footwork it would take to smooth that over and decided that the answer was, probably, a hefty amount. "I'll let you know if anything changes - not too close." Rushing out the words, a low mumble as she quickened her pace to something a little brisker - not a run, just enough to make a bit of a gap between them.

 Briefly she glanced up, looked at the red of the crosswalk sign and then glanced to the woman, mapped her pace and trajectory and set her own based on the hope they'd meet at the sidewalk. It worked, more or less, keeping her head down for the sake of distracted appearances and skirting quickly to the side to avoid knocking into the poor - it was almost immediate. Psychic, as good a premium sticker slapped on a cut of meat.

"Shit, sorry."

Wow was that a person coming towards her? They were just going to have to move out of her way weren't they? Rika almost was tempted to increase her speed, so she did a little because thinking about it was enough.

Until suddenly... no collision. But it was a close clip, and she fought with a brief flare of undeserved anger at the other woman before she gave a cheery little smile.

"Not a problem!" said the drunk, her gaze kind of glazed over as she waved a hand dismissively. "Have a goooood night!"

Oooh, stay back. How lovely. Beauregard was willing to oblige, staying relatively put, pulling out his phone and fiddling with it using an expression of confusion reserved for gentlemen his age navigating a touch screen. (Quite notably, it was an act, of course. Beauregard had become quite adept at thumbing out messages.)

He kept the pair at the edge of his vision, taking an ambling sort of step here and there, perhaps impatiently waiting for a taxi.

His closest watch was kept on the emotions of both of them, so much as he could reach them from here. Waiting for some tick, some moment from either of them that indicated the party had started.

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