-Pain is a game, not a feeling- ~Open~

[charles]

Sweat is a bitch, it got in your eyes and burned, it got in your mouth and tasted horrible. Everything about it is not pleasant, who in their right mind likes sweating. Charles was one of those sweat haters if you could call one that, it was just the thought of getting sweaty that bothered Charles. Don't get him wrong though, he loved physical exercises, just hated the sweat result. If there was a way to run around without sweating, Charles would be in full support. At this time though, Charles would have to deal with the salty liquid that now dripped off the tip of his straight nose.

His legs were burning, not a painful burn, a pleasant one, the type that reminds you that you are working your muscles. After fifteen miles of a hard run, Charles Randolph Xavier was ready for a break. Running for the sake of running is entertaining for very little people. Most people want a ball thrown in there or a killer or something, that will spice up their run. Charles didn't mind actually, he just knew that the end result was what he liked more than the pain. Besides, what girl didn't like a six pack and a fit guy? Modesty Randolph! I apologize for that. With a run behind him, and a bench in front of him, Charles sighed as he strode over to the dark green metal bench placed outside a Chinese Food Restaurant. Sitting, that is another thing of interest, most people in this world like sitting, it is relaxing (lazy to some), and overall, very little effort is used.

The smell that flooded this young man's nostrils was very appealing, it was one of those moments that the appeal takes over so much that one would submit completely for it. But no, he couldn't eat now, not with fifteen miles back that he had to run, that would just end with vomit. Another thing that almost everyone hates. We will not dive into that topic for the reason of unpleasant results, the details are very defined. Charles Xavier breathed in deeply, his mouth open slightly to take in more oxygen from the thick air around him. Water...that was this man's priority right now, he needed water. Slowly he stood at his full six foot height and walked ever so slowly towards a drinking fountain that happened to be nearby.

Refreshing. Relieving. Cold. Tasty. These are words that described the water Charles now partook of. With his short term goal accomplished, this man started walking back toward the street to finish off his run. The clothes he chose to wear this cool evening was quite suitable for the occasion to be exact. His black basketball shorts, and a white tank top. Well, I must correct that sentence white wife beater as some like to call them, rude if you ask me. The definition of his abs and his chest were highlighted by the extra small size that he was wearing, it was for a reason, hopefully you understand. The black basketball shorts had the number eleven on the right leg. White block numbers that accented and were such a bright white, it was a blinding factor.

Imagine running by someone and the number on their shorts blinds you. Imagine the result as you crash into the large cedar in front of you and roll down the steep grade that was to your left. As you roll you break three ribs, your wrist snaps, you are hemorrhaging, your shirt is drenched in your own blood, and finally once you hit the bottom, a tree branch pierces through your calf leaving wood splinters and a gaping whole the size of a collecting jar in your leg. Mind my ranting, the descriptions can get suddenly bloody, my apologies for those with weak stomachs. Back to the moment at hand...

Charles put his hand against the wall of that, restaurant with the tantalizing aromatics. Stretching his quads, a necessity when one is about to run fifteen miles without stopping in London. After a quick stretch, Charles turned and across the street facing him, was the outline of an old man. With darkness impairing his vision, it took his eyes a moment to adjust and he saw the old man. The man was very old dressed in rags, and had frayed, sporadic hair that was as white as snow. His boots were a deep brown, probably not originally colored that way, but probably a result from walking for years in them through mud. His tattered shirt was so thin one could almost get their eyes to see right through the cotton. The man had a shopping cart beside him filled past the brim with his living supplies. Now, in this situation one would smile, ignore the man and walk by. Maybe to the kind person they would give him money.

What was strange about this beggar looking man was that there was no collecting tin for the loose change rich folk have. Charles stomach churned, he had a bad feeling about this man, there was something about his hazel eyes that signaled danger. The man flashed a grin and with his right arm, he reached into his shopping cart. Most people would think he was innocent, with Charles growing up like he did, he let his left hand slid back and grip the metal handle of his Kimber. Yes, he was armed, basketball shorts are big for the average person that is the style, hence the reason Charles Xavier was wearing them this evening. Randolph had his pistol out and behind his broad back before the old man even withdrew the reflective item rapidly.

It was nothing of innocence, the man also had pulled out a pistol. A Glock to be exact, Charles was knowledgeable in the field of guns, in fact he loves to build them as well, for a little extra cash sometimes, or just for the hell of it. The old man raised the gun and pointed it at Charles, he was steady, something old men normally aren't good at. Charles whipped his pistol in front of him and smiled, he took a step forward. Bloody fool, really thought I was unarmed. Probably cannot shoot a gun. Before Charles finished that thought, the old man had pulled the trigger, it all happened too fast, Randolph squeezed his eyes closed waiting for the pain.

Nothing.... the sound faded... he was still standing, but why? Surely the man didn't miss. If he had, there would have been a follow up shot. Perhaps he only had one bullet? Charles cherished this last thought and opened his eyes quickly. The man was gone, only his shopping cart remained. Confusion struck Mr. Xavier and from the corner of his eye he caught movement. Spinning quite professionally and stopping a hundred eighty degrees from his original position, with gun extended in front of him, Charles saw the old man. This time he was hunched over a dead body, the blood was running down towards Charles and he took a step to the right to avoid the thick red liquid. The old man plucked the wallet, jacket, and shoes from the man then walked across the four lane street back to his cart. Placed the things in his cart and left.

What an odd sight to see, he kills men to take their things. Why not kill Charles too though? That would have landed him with at least a better pistol. Randolph eyed the body of the dead man and quickly noticed that if he lingered here much longer he might be suspected of killing the man. It wouldn't help seeing as he had a pistol in his hand. Charles put the gun back in his pants and turned to the back of the building. Now, out of view, he sat on the closest trash can and began thinking how odd London has been since he has been here.

What more could possible happen?

[Nessarose Allens]

Apart from the vast chinese culture; apart from the food and the hustle and bustle of the crowd there was one thing that China Town was known for: Vampires. They plauged this part of the city like the disease that they were, praying on unsuspecting humans whilst they enjoyed the ignorance of this cultural area. The thought repulsed her and she found it hard to stomach the scenery. Nes didn't know why she wandered here, she was armed with knives but it was obvious that they did little to no good against vampires. Laced with silver, they were intended to kill one thing only; wolves. Many times, her colleagues had scolded her and told her that she needed a gun. Fact was, she couldn't use them, her shot was shocking and in the time wasted attempting to get in a good shot she could throw a knife far better. In the end, it came down to what kept her alive, the knives had not failed her yet.

Nes wore her usual attire; tight black jeans, black boots, leather jacket and a white top underneath. To say that she stood out would be an understatement. Although her clothes defined some spunk, some difference, people's eyes slid over her as if she was a figure in the crowd. Nes knew how to make herself invisible in a crowd, she knew how to walk without seeming to be there, how to move and not touch anybody. She'd taught herself to become a blur, noticed and yet not remembered. Unless she did something particularly outstanding, she remained unnoticed. Perhaps a helpful thing was the fact that something about the way she held herself had the 'stay away' sense to it, a sort of aura that screamed not to touch her. Most people seemed to like their limbs where they were and abided by this.

Her eyes moved around the crowd with intent, though her face was blank it would be obvious to anybody paying attention that she was looking for someone. In fact, Nes was doing her job, she was paid to track people down and this particular job had recently been sighted in China Town. As the head of her department, she was sent on this 'risky' case, they were short on members and they couldn't afford to lose amateurs to rookie mistakes. Hence, why she was the one prowling the streets in the somewhat cat-like manner.

A commotion by the alley of one of the restaurants caught her eye and she froze expertly. A man had a pistol out and her eyes followed its point toward the old man who also held a pistiol. Nes took a sharp breath, that was him, it was all in the hazel - slightly amber - eyes, the tell-tale sign. Werewolf. Nes started forward through the crowd, her hands automatically reaching for the knife, the man could shoot as much as he wanted, unless they were silver bullets or unless he had a fantastic shot, that man would not be injured. It was too late, of course, the old man fired, a man just behind the other dropped to the ground immediately. The speed with which the old man moved clarified what she already knew and a groan of annoyance escaped her as she started sprinting towards the man. The crowd wouldn't part, as soon as she got to the body, the man had gone. Quickly she looked to where the man in the white singlet shirt was. His quick departure made Nes certain he wasn't involved in any way, but she needed to make sure.

Firstly, Nes knelt down by the body, her face was impassive as she inspected the corpse, making sure it was actually dead. It was. Swiftly, a phone was taken from her pocket as she dialled a number, glancing around discreetly as she did so, it would not do to have the public see this. "Sam, i found our guy, he's here alright. But we need a car pronto, got a body," at this point she paused and shook her head slightly, before murmuring something back to the person on the other line. Finally she hung up.

Oh pet, too late. Always too late.

Oh great, you're back.

It had been a while, exactly a week since she had heard the voice. It's absence had become somewhat luxurious, yet she knew it had to end. Now that it was back she knew that it would be with a vengence. Nes couldn't focus on that now, she needed to find the man. Quickly she stood up, seeing the black car pull up at the end of the alley she nodded discreetly and took off to the other side of the restaurant, her footsteps were soft yet determined, hopefully he had not gone far.

He hadn't. Sitting on the garbage can, he looked at if he was fretting over what had happened. He didn't seem overly distressed about it and it was this more than anything else that told her this kind of thing was not new to him. "Quite a scene back there, public didn't see ... thankfully." Nes gave a shrug and walked forward, tossing her hair forward from behind her ear so that he would not see the bandage around her head. That had also been there for a week, since Morrison. She still had the black eye that had accompanied the punch to the head. "Are you ok? Most would be a little shaken up at being shot at, even if you weren't exactly hit..." All she needed to do was make sure he didn't suspect anything, keep things 'hush hush' as it were. As she walked closer she hovered by the wall of the alley, experience teaching her not to put herself too close to a stranger, especially one she knew to be carrying a pistol.

[charles]

Charles was still turning the thoughts he had through his mind. How could an old man shoot faster than him. Charles is a pretty fast shot to be perfectly honest. The other amazing thing was how fast the old man got across the street, then back. It was like he had super speed. Charles wondered if he was a Werewolf or Vampire by any chance. If he was though surely he would have killed Charles. It was an easy kill actually, it seemed that Charles was almost defenseless to this old man. Everything was bound to get darker from now on. Charles needed to keep his guard up on a regular basis, it was a little chattered at the moment. The wind came in more power, it was cooler now. Randolphs black hair was being tugged sharply by the wind now. It was time to leave.

Charles was about to stand when he felt the presence of another person behind him. The mind was racing, telling him to grip his Kimber, there was no need though. To his surprise it was a woman's voice that sounded behind him. A very soothing woman's voice to be exact. Her words floated majestically into Charles Xavier's ears and he chuckled in his deep voice. It was true,there was luck in the public not seeing his shootout, otherwise there would be squad cars there faster then you could say RUN. His reply was slow and mellow, his Scottish lull came out in full flight. "You're right. Had the public seen it. I would be shooting the London police." For some reason he couldn't get himself to pull a gun on this woman, her voice calmed his quickly bubbling anger. Her comment of concern made Charles turn around to face her. It was hard to see all the details, but Mr. Xavier thought she was gorgeous.

"A person who gets shaken up by simple gun fire has a weak mind, and an even weaker trigger finger. I am not scared to die, there is little that does scare me as a matter of fact." Charles took violence like a game, as was pain. It was all just mind tricks played by humans themselves. Slowly Charles pulled the bangs out of his face, he was bloody cold in this wind to be honest. What did this woman want with him? Was she just looking for someone to fight or kill? No, she could be a Vampire or Werewolf though, those assumptions were valid, no one ever knew. Things could easily get out of hand here, it was only a matter of seconds, Charles measured the distance between them in his mind, calculated the wind interference, and his draw speed. He had enough time to pull a shot off before the woman took two steps. He was getting slower, not as much practice here in London.

Back home, there were shooting ranges that he would visit almost every single day. His aim, shooting time, draw speed, all had been at its prime then. He was slowing down slowly with the lack of practice here in London. Occasionally he would visit the patch of trees behind his apartment and shoot a couple cans, but that wasn't enough, he needed more guns, and more space. Quickly Charles looked at his Timex sports watch and saw the time reflect in green back at him. It was almost midnight, he still needed to get up to go job hunting, and he needed to run fifteen miles. There was a need to start soon. Being rude was one of those things that Charles was taught to never do. Besides who like rude people?

You get those fat blond bully kids at your school you know? You are sliding down that red slide at the playground minding your own damn business when the fat kid and his gang comes. First of all, it was bloody unfair, six or seven against one. Even if you had the balls to fight back, you could only take one or two. Then the fattest one asks for your lunch money, the couple dollars your sweet mother handed you before you left. You had a couple options. Naturally you could run, then they beat up some other little twerp. You could fight, and get your bloody ass kicked. Or you could scream and get the teachers attention, then everyone would think of you as a wimp. Well, what would you do? Charles would fight then book it, throw rocks from a distance. Obviously since you are a little twerp you can outrun the fatties. Just a matter of preference I guess? Back to the matter at hand, I apologies for my sidetracking.

By the way, the analogy above in case you got distracted was about rude people. Charles looked at the woman and sighed. He HAD to go, there was no excuse now. "Pardon my incredible rudeness ma'am, but I really need to go, I got a fifteen mile run ahead of me and it is late. It was a very pleasant conversation though don't get me wrong. I just need to go job hunting tomorrow morning, need the cash you know?" His Scottish lull was one of rich beauty. Even in Scotland people said he had the thickest accent, which was usually an odd comment to hear from your own friends and family.

The trees that were close by started moving dramatically in the harsher wind. Damn this city and its windiness, if that was a word you could put in a sentence. Charles rose and stretched a little more, it was customary for him to stretch a lot before running. Besides, he had been sitting for what seemed like a good five to ten minutes. Never anything someone of his athletic condition liked doing unless making out or... well, you can use your own imagination on that part. Charles waited for this woman's response she was in fact currently his conversation, he wanted her to respond, something at least.

Charles then thought... Is everyone from London eerie?

[Nessarose Allens]

It took him all of a minute to realise than she was there and to turn to face her. However, it was in this minute that she recognised him as a human; for had he been anything else then he would have smelled her before she even entered the alleyway. Normally she would comment on the strangeness of the hour to be out, however this was China Town, which was like the New York of London. Also, she was out at this hour aswell, normally people would be concerned by the fact a woman was alone. Vulnerability and all that, Nes thought it would be interesting for anybody to try something, let them try.

The man spoke of shooting the London police and she tilted her head slightly and gave a soft laugh. He'd caught her in a strangely carefree mood tonight, perhaps it was because they'd finally found the dog they'd been searching for, for a while. "Wouldn't do much good, 'less you know how to kill Wolves." There was a significance in the 'wolves', she didn't mean regular, four-legged wild animals. She mean't the ruthless, man-killers. Almost the entire LPD was composed of werewolves, hell the entire Government was composed of werewolves. The only consequence of him shooting the LPD would be that he would be ripped to shreads. Which was not a pleasant thought.

Again, at his comment on not being afraid of anything, Nes chuckled. She'd thought the same, and been proven just how wrong she was. Maybe it would be the same for him, or maybe he was made of stronger stuff than she was, regardless, it was good to see somebody who was not completely defeated in London. He must be new, nobody could retain anything but pessimism once they lived in this place for a while. "Oh, i bet." The comment was dry, simple. She did not doubt that he was telling the truth, she saw how fast he'd drawn the gun, he'd only been seconds off shooting the dog. Vaguely she allowed herself to wonder how that would have gone down. Not well, she imagined.

The man glanced down at his watched, looked at her, stood up and began to stretch. Nes watched curiously, not failing to notice the refined muscles on his body. She'd been right, though he was human, it was obvious he'd be able to make quite and enemy. She wasn't looking for enemies, although she seemed to do a great job of finding them. Nes watched him stretch, allowing herself to give him the old 'once-over' why he wasn't paying attention to her. She had to admit that what she saw was not bad at all, he had that roughness that anybody would find attractive, the shadows marred her view of his face, but that didn't matter.

Also, she'd noticed the Scottish accent, it was one of the first things she'd noticed. As always, Nes was a sucker for accents. It also provided her with the knowledge that this man was probably new in town. Did he know about the whole Werewolf and Vampire problem? Or was he oblivious. Ignorance was not bliss in this city, ignorance got people killed. Or worse.

15 mile run. Wow. Nes glanced behind her, not sure whether or not Sam and the boys had taken care of the body and gone off 'hunting' as it were. People seemed to get a little iffy when they saw men with guns chasing another man. They weren't to know that technically, it was classified as 'game' hunting. It was how things looked, really. "Sounds like a long run, if i were you i'd stick to the roads, don't run through the park. It isn't muggers you need to be wary of in this town." Plus, she had a feeling that the dog would have taken refuge in Hyde Park, which meant that Sam would be hunting in there. Atrum shot first and asked questions later, it kept them alive. If this man wanted to stay alive, he would hopefully not run through the park.

Nes turned around, she only walked to the end of the alley and looked out, toward the black car which remained close to where the body had been. Of course, it was gone now. The car was empty, the boys were hunting. A small sigh of relief escaped her throat, with any luck, there would be one less wolf on the streets tomorrow. Nes turned around, facing the man again, this time she leaned against the wall of the alley. "It's Nessa by the way, not ma'am," she laughed and slipped him a wink which he may or may not have seen in the dark.

"I'd suggest you run fast, bad things tend to happen at night." The bandage on her head and the bruise above her eye were testament to that. Or did they not count? It was morning .. technically. Even Nes could see the strength and courage in this man, it would be a shame for him to fall prey to supernatural creatures. There had already been one regrettable death tonight.

[charles]

Charles Xavier listened to the words she spoke to him as he was stretching his calves. It was all warnings, warnings of foul creatures, things he hated. It was Werewolves he hated, Vampires, he could deal with them. No Vampire ever gave him a problem, just Werewolves. The night was coming on thicker and Charles sighed, so much for a damn run. It all turned out to be a time for him to walk, a run in this darkness would get him killed, not just by stray Werewolves, but by stupid branches or something that one could barely see. It was true that Randolph had a very adapted level of seeing in the dark, it still wouldn't preserve his life. She started walking away from him and he turned to face her, she had to get here some how. Perhaps a vehicle, if she walked perhaps he could join her. No use being alone, it wasn't that he was scared, just the more the better off he was.

Charles listened to her name and smiled, it was beautiful. Really it was, most men just said that to every name they heard. It was not a typical boring name like he had. Charles, who in their right name would name their child Charles? But Nessa, it was sweet when it rolled off the tongue, it was fun to listen too as well. Slowly he walked towards her as she was leaning against the restaurant, almost exactly where he was before. The wink she produced caught his eye and he smiled, he threw one back for good measure and kept his words to a limit. It seemed that she didn't want him dead, enough to warn him of the dangers that lie in front of him. Soon he noticed a car parked close by, that was how she did it, hopefully she would extend an invitation to him. Give him a lift home perhaps, she was quite the woman now that Charles was right in front of her.

"Well, Nessa, right? I will take your warnings and extend to you another question in return. How then do you intend for me to get home if I shall not cut through the park. If I run on the road it is almost twice as long." He waited for a response and he too leaned against the wall. It was cold, not something of a shocker though, the bloody air around them was cold too. Suddenly, Randolph noticed the dead mans body missing. Where had it gone? Surely she couldn't have moved it, she was right next to Charles. It was now assumed that she came with others, she couldn't be alone. For a woman to be alone she had to know how to handle things on her own. A Thing he never really saw in the women in Scotland. Women in Scotland were pretty don't get him wrong, they were just...how would one put it... girlie girls? Charles had a lot of experiences that he had picked up whilst in London that made him think.

England was a completely different culture and mental thinking than Scotland was. "Nessa, a beautiful name I must add. I like it, it isn't plain and boring, but it rolls off the tongue sweetly. Charles. Charles Randolph." Last names were for a closer relation, people with a first and last name knowledge could find out a lot of information about you. How many people had the last name of Xavier anyways, even without his middle name he probably was the only Charles Xavier on this planet. Names, what was a name really? An identity one gave their offspring, just so they could yell at them? It seemed that with someones name, you could take the person's identity, so then why was it so unique? Why not protect everyone and refrain from them having names. Just labels would be fine, it would keep unity in the society, people learn to hate their names, or love them. Other names are associated and liked or disliked.

The street to his right was still dark, a person could crouch down a meter from the two talking, and they would never know. Well, unless the woman was like Charles who had adapted a very good sense of feeling when people or things are around him. It was how he survived in this world, it was the waves that people released as they moved that he felt, and it disturbed his peace most of the time. It was actually a trait his father taught him how to harness. Months of having his eyes closed and his father walking in the room, asking him if he felt it yet. Finally one night Charles felt the waves of everyone in the house, it was almost miraculous. He would put money on that his father produced a magical spell on him, but that is for another time. Magic was a hard concept to grasp, whether it existed was another matter, all that Charles knew was there were people who didn't know Vampires and Werewolves existed.

It was nearly one in the morning, a time that gave Charles a lot of his memories, whether good or bad. Scotland was a bustling place past twelve in the morning. Parties, women, drugs, all of the above was in Scotland after twelve. It was true though that Randolph hadn't done drugs for a long time. For a while he was addicted to Meth, it was a secret he kept to himself, his parents never would know. Few people did, just the ones who smoked it with him really. His eyes moved back to the woman and he smiled, the feeling she gave him was pleasing, and for some reason he didn't feel threatened or in danger in anyway. It probably was how she worked, charmed men into her presence then tried to kill them or something. Good thing Mr. Xavier was always on his guard. It was a constant thing, something he built up when he first heard of Werewolves.

Charles Randolph Xavier peered at the vehicle and more memories flooded him. There was the time he went street racing with his bodies on the coast. He was driving his fathers '71 Mustang, it was a gorgeous car. Deep red with a white stripe down the right side. It had more horsepower than almost any car one would have. With a sharp turn, Charles watched one of his friends loose control in their Porsche as they slid off the edge of the cliff and the explosion that followed told Charles that they didn't come out of it alive. Well, really the boy probably didn't come out of it at all. Charles was a bloody good racer when it came to almost any vehicle. His other friends drove off not caring as Charles stopped and then called the boys parents letting them know what happened. He put the blame on himself, it was only a matter of time before the memory was going to haunt him in his sleep somewhere.

There was too much procrastinating and he had to ask the woman, in fear that she wouldn't bring up her transportation. "Pardon, but is that your car by any chance? If you wouldn't mind giving me a lift?" It was always hard to ask for favors with Charles, he was supposed to be the one serving women, it felt wrong to him to ask a woman for a lift, but he had too.He put on a very sexy smirk and waited for her answer.

[Nessarose Allens]

There was a part of her that couldn't help but worry how Sam and his crew were getting along, they were all trained assasains, they would scorn at her concern - not that she would ever tell them - but one slip, one small misjudgement and it could all be over for them. Everything was entwined withing a moment, and it could change in a second, in an instant. Things were not set in stone. All this she had learned through hard earned experience, everything came at a price, one simply had to decide whether that price was worth paying. It was all suspended in a balance, a trecherous one at that.

A gentle laugh escaped her lips as he returned the wink and she allowed a vague smile to play upon her lips. There was nothing wrong with harmless flirting among strangers, it was a simple thing really not that Nes partook in it too often, it sometimes encouraged unwanted attention. She didn't feel uncomfortable at the moment though, on the contrary it felt easy standing here. Although she knew it was late, but she would wait until Sam returned, in case all was not well. She would not leave, otherwise who would be here to call for help?

"Nice to meet you Charles," she extended her hand in the proper greeting and flashed another smile. Her London accent was far to plain and thick to boast a high-society upbringing. Nessa rarely gave her last name, mainly for the reason that people could discover you by a last name, not that they couldn't discover you by a first name too, but it gave them better chance for finding out who you were, what you did, who you knew. And subsequently, it gave them a better chance at destroying everything you were.

Charles asked if it was her car and she merely smiled, motioning for him to follow her. Slowly she walked to the car, the hands in her pocket were curled surrpeticiously around a knife as she glanced left and right. There was nobody that she could see, but that mean't nothing, especially here. Vampire city, normally meant that the creatures were always watching, no matter where or who you were. She ran her hand over the car and tried the handle. Locked. Sam would have the keys, she sighed and turned to face Charles. "Yes and no, i don't own the car but a friend does. Said friend, also has the keys."

Nes gave him an apologetic shrug, there was not much she could do. Short of breaking into the car, she was almost sure the corpse was in the trunk, so stealing the car was not an agreeable thing to do. Plus, stealing from herself? Bad. "I can lend you money to hail a cab, if you want?" It was hard to deny the smile he had playing upon his lips, she found herself feeling bad for him, despite the fact she rarely felt bad for people. In the vague streetlight she saw him better, there was no denying that he was as charming as his smile suggested. Nes felt more reckless tonight, perhaps it was the shit running through her system, perhaps it was the provoking smile that Charles was using. Either way, it didn't really bring out the best in her.

"Alternatively, we could grab a coffee?" Oh yes, how very smooth of her. She shrugged, motioning with her hand to a coffee shop that overlooked the car. "It's up to you."

[charles]

Charles watched and listened closely to the gorgeous woman in front of him. After all, she had a lot of trust to be with him alone at night. Not that he would do anything, it was just in other parts of the world women got raped in this condition. The way she held herself up though, Charles figured she could hold her own pretty well if necessary. "No, the pleasure is mine dear." Charles spoke, took her hand and kissed it softly. It was an old fashioned act of romance to be honest, but it was always taken positively. Charles looked as she tried the car and he smirked, expertise again could come into hand here. He knew how to jimmy a car, not well, but he was confident he could do it. "This friend, I presume won't be too aggressive towards me? I really am not into getting shot at." His Scottish accent again rang out.

She was being nice indeed, in Scotland if you were not friends and you were a male. Forget it, there was no help there, you thought everything was perfect about Scotland when Charles talked about it eh? Wrong, Scotland was filled with some of the rudest people in the world. Some of the grimiest filth in the world too, prostitution, drugs, murdering, raping. Scotland had its chivalry yes, but it also had its horrid side. Though almost no one saw the bad side. If you asked a tourist they would say your full of it. Only the locals knew, and Charles, well he was as local as you could get to be honest. He looked at the woman and smiled again, it was a gentleman smile, the one you are taught in school in Scotland, the model smile as foreigners cal it. "You would lend a complete stranger cab money? Are you an angel?" It was a serious question, few people did that to strangers.

Her gesture to the coffee chop above amused him. That was quite the quick invite. She had to be armed if she was extending a night to a stranger. Charles was not going to say no, how in hell could someone say no to her? She was an angel for goodness sake. He shrugged, "Sure. Only if I pay though. It is only proper." It was true, it was only proper. Many women objected to men paying for them. It was just common courtesy. Randolph extended his elbow for her to take, something again that was proper. This gesture though was make or break. Sometimes they loved it and sometimes it scared them away. Either was Charles needed to know more about this woman before he would do anything further.

Charles looked around quickly, it was a dark night to not be cautious. Besides the thought running through his mind was of this woman's friends jumping him and all three beating the shit out of him, next thing he knew he was robbed, and bleeding like shit on the ground. It was not a good sight, or thought really, either way, Charles was always on his guard. Stuff like that happened on the big screen and Charles couldn't let it happen to him, he was too scared to lose, that was why he always won. It was just a thing, he was so scared of death that it kept him alive really. His Kimber was still in his shorts and he noticed then just how bad he looked. He was still sweaty, in basketball shorts, and a white tank. Way to dress up you dumbass!

Stepping forward, Charles still had his elbow extended, he turned his head towards the woman again and let his eyed scan her gorgeous curves. It was an obvious move, one he wasn't going to hide. Why hide checking a woman out? It is a compliment in itself to stop and take your time to check the beauty of a woman's body out. Some just were uncomfortable with it, Charles blames their bringing up, has nothing to do with school. Finally with his gaze in her eyes again he smiled and waited patiently.

[Nessarose Allens]

She laughed somewhat non-chalantly as he questioned whether Sam would be aggressive toward him. It was not really something that she could answer honestly, for the fact was that she did not really know the truth herself. Charles was clearly not a wolf, so that would not be a problem and he didn't seem keen on attacking Nes, also not a problem. Then there was the fact that Nes rarely associated with strangers so, although he may be suspicious, she guessed he would not attack. Besides, she was more than capable of taking care of herself. The laugh was repeated after a brief pause. "No, not aggressive, though he may not be nice." At this point she shrugged and glanced around her, eyes shifting around with the air of one who was masking anticipation.

A small smirk played its way upon her lips when he commented on her being an angel, she scoffed quite noticebly and cast her eyes downwards for a fleeting moment. "Hardly an angel, devil may be more appropriate. There has been enough unneccesary deaths for tonight, a taxi will help you." She offered with a smile and laughed slightly. She turned to face the car for a moment, walking around it slightly, there was a small - almost unnoticable - trail of blood that stopped at the trunk of the car. She'd been right, they'd momentarily put the corpse in the back while they went hunting. It was not dignified, per say, but then any thought of dignity had been destroyed when London fell to the control of wolves. Things were animalistic these days, and to beat them you had to stoop to their level. Even the playing field, as it were.

There was almost a nervousness playing on his expression, as if he was suspicious that somebody was around. Of course, she didn't doubt that eyes were on them, it was one of the reasons why she wanted to hurry him into the coffee shop. This place, China Town, was vampire territory and when the lights went out it was when people tended to dissapear. No matter how good with knives she was, her limited strength would do little to nothing against vampires. She wanted to push Charles toward the coffee shop, rather than have him standing there, no doubt eyes were on him, but pushing a stranger toward a shop. It certainly wasn't the best 'first meeting'.

His arm was extended for her to take, something that was unknown to her in the backstreets of London. Obviously Scotland was a very different culture, she wasn't sure .. take his arm or not? Nes wasn't good with physical contact, it was something she naturally shied away from, perhaps to protect herself more than anything else. As she lifted her eyes to his face she struggled to hold back a laugh at the obvious way his eyes were moving. She felt his gaze like a touch, her spine shivering momentarily under the intensity of it. Even his eyes were charming, this was probably not good. Charming, handsome, Scottish, stranger ... how long until Sam returned?

An inner sigh, she took his arm and took a half step toward the coffee shop, allowing him to lead the rest of the way. Her eyes traced their path with careful intent, making sure none of the 'night creatures' strayed into their path. There was only one word for what would happen if that occured, they would be well and truly fucked. She didn't have bullets, he did. But vampires rarely hunted by themselves around here and as far as she was aware. He only had one gun.

The coffee shop was easily warmer than outside. Nes followed him to the seat by the window. She suspected he chose this one so that she could see when Sam returned. That was somewhat nice of him. "So, coffee ... what do you want?"