`keep those eyes open, handsome [damien]

[hanariyo]

If there's one thing Michaela Shaw can't stand, it would be idleness. She was a vampire with a motive, a goal, a plan. One can always spot the calculating gleam in her eye, the little closemouthed smile she would reveal when she imagines your downfall. It was unlike her to be bored, still - static. If one of her friends could see her now, they would be shocked.

Michaela was currently lounging in a low-key pub not too far from her office. She had fed a few hours ago and is keeping a lazy eye out for a delectable bite. Unlike other vampires who waited every few days to eat, Michaela always made sure to have a steady supply of human blood - fresh - and some packets of animal blood in her fridge back home just in case. She was always thorough with everything she does, whether it be business or her own affairs.

She had arrived at this place - McHarron's - a few weeks ago and continued to come here after her frequent haunt for the past decade closed down. The alcohol wasn't the best - but she wasn't much of a drinker anyways. She was here for the atmosphere, a quick meal when she felt like it, and out of pure habit. That's right, Michaela was a creature of routine.

To match her current location, she had abandoned her classic business attire and changed into more comfortable clothing. To keep her guise of humanity in check, she had wrapped a dusky pink scarf around her neck. It was pulled high enough to cover a portion of her lower face. She liked being a vampire, but she did not like it when humans came up to her and asked her to change them. To be honest, she had better things to do with her time. Now if they asked her to eat them... She also had a simple light blue top on, along with a dark gray cardigan and a pair of faded jeans. She hadn't bothered with a jacket or gloves. She was much colder than the crisp winter air anyways.

The pub was busy - it seemed like humans, werewolves, and vampires were around tonight. Not that she could tell which was which of course. It didn't make much of a difference to her of course, unless she was in the mood for food. Biting a werewolf instead of a human would be disastrous for her. Every table except for hers was filled. Sighing loudly, Michaela shut her eyes for a brief moment and slid down in her seat. Her slate gray eyes snapped open the next second, glowering at the intruder.

Someone had sat at her table without so much as a 'please'. She opened her mouth, her bared fangs made evidently clear of her displeasure at this situation before she clamped her jaw shut tightly. Sending a measuring gaze at the vampire across from her, she said, "What a pleasant surprise."

[AKREE]

The head of any company, no matter how small or large was always a busy person. They had to tend to their employee’s needs, they had to keep the money in track, think of new possibilities to keep business running. In other words, a boss’ job wasn’t easy; many thought it was just sitting back, feet on top of the desk and giving away orders because it suited them. A successful company wasn’t based of that, in fact quite the contrary. There was decisions being made behind every order, what would be better? What would bring in more money? There had to be a plan, a goal in mind, one did not simply set a decision forward unless they planned on doing something with it. Besides the ordering there was also all that tedious paperwork to be done, the same paperwork Damien disliked doing so much he dumped it on his underboss so it would rot in his desk and not Damien’s, so at least Damien’s desk resembled something with some kind of order, unlike his much disorganized friend.

But then, what did this have to do with anything? How would this explain why the head of a mafia walked down this very street glowering at the cement under his feet almost like if walking was something completely against his very ideal? Perhaps it was that this head finally thought he needed a break from all the paperwork and decision making and that he should give himself a chance, yet still, would it explain his expression? He could be annoyed by the fact he had convinced himself of doing such a thing in the first place, regretting the very idea of it at the very last moment. Or maybe it was that he was here doing work, on some kind of business that he clearly despised. Or surprises of all surprises it could be a mixture of all the three. But all this speculating didn’t answer the question, and one would probably never know the answer except that on that very day, on that very hour he found himself walking into quite the crowded bar.

It wasn’t exactly a high class place. The tables looked like wood with designs plastered on the top almost at random. The serving bar was made up of a long piece of wood sitting atop four sticks (not that exaggerated, but this is how Damien saw it, Damien who was always surrounded by only he best things money could buy, although he never expected everyone to have money to waste around like he did it still upset him to see such distasteful decorations). He frowned in clear disapproval at the scene before him and marveled at how such a place could obtain such a crowd. The customers were basically spilling from the windows, all tables being packed full and some others even having been forced to stand with their drinks and laugh around a corner. There was a cacophony of different noises, from laughter to yelling, screams, chatter and maybe even some sobbing.

With a resigned sigh Damien proceeded to search for a seat, a hunt that he feared would be unsuccessful.

He dodged and snaked through bodies packed tight, occasionally having to be forced to nudge a person or two out of the way. The scents were those of cheap whiskey and sweat mixed with perfumes. Occasionally he would catch the sound of the heartbeat of a human or werewolf when he was pressed against a person and, of course there were occasions where he heard no heartbeat marking these people as some of his own kind. But whatever it was he hardly cared, he just wanted to push forward, find an accursed table and sit and rest a while. In the back of his mind held the fleeting thought suggesting that he’d leave, that doing this was hardly necessary and time and time again he was forced to push the thought back or maybe even not consider it.

Finally, after much searching, his eyes landed squarely on a table, completely empty except for one person. Normally in such a situation he would recall his manners and ask kindly permission to sit down in the table in case said person was waiting on someone. But at this point Damien not only wanted a damned seat he needed a breather, mainly because his paranoia was settling in, his thoughts straying to the ‘what if’s’. What if someone had a gun? What if there was a fight and he was caught in it? What if? What if? The thoughts swirled in his mind to the point where he almost felt claustrophobic, of course this was an individual used to hiding his emotions, no matter the cause. So even if his head was a jumbled mess of thoughts his expression remained the same, impassive and maybe even annoyed. However, all these elements mixed together caused him to forget his manners thus sitting in the table without so much as a look to whoever else happened to be there.

So when he heard or rather felt the figure moving and the words ”What a pleasant surprise," he was forced to rotate his skull towards this person, which he did mechanically, as if the very action of moving annoyed him.

There was a minute when he met her eyes that he knew he recognized her, a minute of doubt in which he frowned trying to remember who she was. But that tiny moment was soon gone and his initial frown was replaced by a light smile and an arched brow. “What a pleasant surprise indeed. I certainly didn’t expect to see you here,” he stated, his gaze traveling briefly towards the overcrowded bar. Hopefully she would get what he meant with here.

[hanariyo]

Truth be told, Michaela was a very socially inept creature. In the boardroom, at the office, even when she's by the "water cooler" talking to her colleagues, she was at home - comfortable in her surroundings. She'd long since grasped the concept of fragile alliances made between colleagues. She had also survived many brutal office wars. In the business world, she was quite a figure to look up to and for business students, she was a figure they aspire to become. She was charismatic and persuasive, but that was all a front.

When put in a "real life" situation, she was left completely clueless. Worse than that, she was left starving, blindfolded and deaf to fight off lions without a weapon - as a human. She was a workaholic - her social life was nonexistent. She dealt with her friends like how she dealt with her clients, at arm's length. The friends who stuck around were used to her odd behavior and thought it endearing even, others, just left her be. But here, she was in a new situation altogether. In a rather low-class pub was one of her important and high-class clientele.

How in the world did Damien DiMarco end up in such a shoddy place in the first place? Perhaps this was what she got for trying to relax. Work was coming to chase her around! The acerbic comment that she had prepared for the rude arse that had sat down without even asking had died as soon as she registered who she was sharing her table with. She had no idea what he did but he had enough money - no more than enough money to make him her boss's favorite client.

She cast him a guarded look beneath her bangs. He didn't look very happy when he had first arrived. As a matter of fact, he seemed quite mechanical and frustrated. Normally, she would've already retreated and waited for a more opportune time to meet with him, if this was an arranged business meeting. But no, this was an accidental meeting - where the heavens were silently flipping her the bird.

It took him a while to register who she was. She wasn't offended and waited for him to recall. He was an important vampire, after all. She was just a player in the business world with a modest fortune to her name after more than a century of frugal spending. It wouldn't be the first time a client forgot who she was. The smile on his face notified her that he remembered her. She was relieved. It would be awkward indeed if he did forget her.

He seemed to be sincerely surprised to find out that she was here. Sure, the place wasn't the best place to relax after work. She was a simple kind of girl who didn't go out to bars in the first place unless she wanted food. The decorations were a bit too gaudy - something that was obviously getting on his nerves. He seemed to be avoiding looking at the table tops. After the times she'd worked with him and managed his accounts, she was well aware of a few of his styles and preferences. Which was exactly why it's so surprising to find him here.

"Well, this place has a nice lively atmosphere, don't you think so?" Michaela asked with a straight face. She nodded towards the group of drunken people - humans, vampires, and werewolves alike - grinding and groping one another wildly. Michaela smiled, "The decor is nice. Perhaps you should hire the interior designer for your own offices."

She can imagine an office. A typical office of a company's boss. It was clean, simple, all modern and refined. And then she added the extra filigree. The carvings on the desk, the lava lamps, perhaps mismatched tiles? She couldn't chuckle a little at the thought of a complementary color scheme. She doubted that anyone would be able to sit in that office for long without wanting to gouge their eyes out. "I'm joking, of course." She added, as an afterthought. She hated misunderstandings even more than awkward situations. Oddly enough, those two things go hand in hand like an old married couple. "So what brings you here, Mr. DiMarco? I wouldn't expect someone like you to be here either."

[AKREE]

Damien felt uncomfortable with the whole situation; he didn’t like waltzing into people he knew without careful planning beforehand, what if he was caught at the wrong place at the wrong time? What if he was getting prepared to end some unlucky person’s life, what would happen then? He was screwed that was what would happen and normally persons that knew him had a knack to recognize when he wanted to be elsewhere and even though that didn’t point out at his intentions it was a clue, an unnecessary piece of evidence. Later during the night the news could show how a mysterious murder had occurred or perhaps a disappearance in the area where said person who recognized Damien had seen him. This didn’t necessarily tied the two together since it was highly unlikely that Damien would allow himself to be seen in a deserted area so it could be that any of the thousands of people around him would be just as likely to have killed or made the person disappear but it was a hint. A hint that interrogating police officers may dismiss or catch upon, the latter being most undesired.

Normally if that was the situation where someone had recognized him Damien would decide against completing the assigned task for various reasons, but mostly it was the paranoia setting in that there was a slightly higher chance that he could get caught and also because it was simple procedure to dismiss an assignment if you would be recognized and thus your disguise to fall apart. And when you were one of the richest vampires in London with great influence in several rich companies and even the government itself it was quite easy to be recognized, of course Damien also mostly kept a low profile but there were always people who knew and if he participated in any slightly notable event the media could be quite fastidious. But that came all in a day’s work.

Now he simply counted his blessings knowing that whatever task he had in mind was immediately moved to another date and that he had nothing all that important to take care of either way. But keeping appearances was important which is why despite having the strong urge to break the table in half just for the hell of it he kept his polite and patient façade.

"Well, this place has a nice lively atmosphere, don't you think so?" her face remained straight, almost as if avoiding any unwanted expressions as he talked, however Damien himself offered a small half-smile, thus emphasizing the slight annoyance behind his words. “Lively, yes. Nice, not very likely,” he answered jokingly wrinkling his nose slightly as the scent of one of those vile canines passed trough his nostrils succeeding in making a small scoff of disapproval emerge from his lips. “It smells of wet dog,” he noted careful to keep his voice neutral.

"The decor is nice. Perhaps you should hire the interior designer for your own offices," he turned his eyes towards the “décor” noting how a larger of fine dust was sprinkled over everything despite showing obvious signs of overuse, the scent of cheap alcohol covering everything as well. "I'm joking, of course." she added as an afterthought.

Damien forced himself to chuckle, making it sound genuine, already used to faking amusement or other small emotions in order to appeal to his company “Ah, but there may be a good idea, I could scare unwanted clientele away rather easily,” he joked, for a minute picturing the reactions of such clients. Maybe he could have two offices, one correctly decorated so the good clients would be escorted into and obviously offer a good impression of DiMarco as well as exhibit his large amount of riches and the other one shabbily decorated perhaps complete with a squeaky old chair and the hint of liquor in the air, papers messily thrown atop the desk in order to add to the room’s shabby appearances demonstrating him as perhaps only putting a face and lacking the money or maybe his cheapness, the way he wouldn’t waste even a single cent on something as trivial as an office despite swimming in paper money.

"So what brings you here, Mr. DiMarco? I wouldn't expect someone like you to be here either."

“Ah,” he turned his eyes towards Michaela with a playful smile playing at the corners of his lips “work brings me here ma’am or rather the escape from it. It seems I can never get some fresh air recently so I decided to –ah, take a walk in the vicinity,” was his explanation with both a high chance of being a lie yet being the complete truth, after all Damien was quite fickle and he could be doing one thing a second then pick up an entirely different project the next depending on his thoughts on it. “However the streets proved to be too crowded for my liking so I decided to take a break in the nearest establishment and here I am.”

“I would say it wasn’t a half-bad choice, at least now I have some company,” he noted though truth be told he could do without the company, but no need to let such things be known, hmm?