Care for a Drink? (Sari)

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The bar was small, in the style of an Irish pub. It served food, but judging by the smell and what little he saw people ordering, it wasn’t that great. Clyde sat at a far back table, a newspaper open in front of him. His eyes scanned the pages for anything of interest. The only thing that struck him odd was a too-vague obituary for a man too young to have died of natural causes. He’d have to research it further in the next few days.

Clyde had been traveling for almost a week straight, only taking breaks to sleep during the day and feed. He was a bit worn and as close as a vampire could get to fatigued. He’d tracked what he believed to be a hunter from Santa Fe, New Mexico to Hoboken, New Jersey. So far, there were no leads. Clyde sat in the bar for some time, listening to the conversation around him for anything useful. He read the paper and then pretended to read it. No one seemed to give him a second glance, unremarkable as he was in jeans and a t-shirt. He’d ordered a beer for appearance’s sake. The bottle sat on the table untouched, nearly forgotten.

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The black Yamaha roared down the road, eating the tarmac easily. Sari gunned the throttle, picking up speed and looking for somewhere to stop. She was bored, and worse than that, she was hungry. She had stopped a few hours ago at a diner and ordered a burger. But sitting there surrounded by the scents of the cooking food and the people walking in and out had her walking out before her meal arrived. It didn't really work but for a while she could pretend that her hunger had abated.

Spotting a small bar coming up, she pulled into the car park with a squeal of brakes, spraying small stones as she stopped. Pulling off her helmet and running a hand through her hair she looked at the bar in front of her. Great, a theme pub from the look of it. Truthfully, she'd have preferred to have gone back to the club she was in last night, but someone might recognise her.

She walked to the door of the bar and pulled it open, wincing at the music playing in the background. Striding confidently to the bar, she knew she was being watched, stared at even. Her black leather trousers and long leather coat, platform boots and spikey collar were a long way from what most of the patrons here were wearing.

Having no trouble getting served, she turned and leaned lazily on the bar, ignoring the stink-eye she was getting. Looking round she noticed a solitary pool table and... for the love of... was that a darts board?! Huffing a quiet laugh to herself, she made her way to the back of the bar where hopefully there would be someone under the age of thirty she could "talk" to. Her stomach growled gently and she knew she'd have to eat soon or she ran the risk of doing something stupid. Again.

Approaching the pool table, she stood watching the couple playing. Feet braced slightly apart, one hand on her hip, the other bringing her bottle to her lips, she knew they'd seen her. Smirking, she watched and waited for either one of them to acknowledge her.

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Clyde re-read the young man’s vague obituary for a third time. There was nothing about it that struck him odd, and then that was the thing: no mention at all of how he’d died. Hunters almost always met gruesome deaths early. It was a long shot that this was the guy he’d been looking for, but he was the right age, from the right area, met the “suspicious death” requirement. There was going to be a service for him in the morning at a local church. He’d have to make an appearance and poke around.

He glanced up when the door opened and a beat of silence settled over the place. One of these things is not like the others, he thought. All eyes followed her to the bar (including Clyde’s). Once she ordered and conversation started up again, Clyde turned his attention back to the paper. His ears picked up some conversation from the couple at the pool table.

“Oh, come on. That didn’t count!” the woman was insisting.

“Baby, that was totally a scratch,” the guy replied.

“Barely! The tip barely even brushed the table!”

“Barely still means it scratched.”

It had been a while since Clyde had played pool. He wasn’t terribly fond of the game. He much preferred sports that required one to get up close and personal. Football, baseball, lacrosse. Again, he glanced up when there was a sudden lull in conversation. The woman clad in leather was standing there, watching. The woman was the first to say anything.

“Uh… Can we help you?”

A snooty almost territorial tone to her voice. The man bent to make his shot, no help at all. Clyde kept his eyes on the group, curious to see what would happen next.

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“Uh… Can we help you?”

Sari smirked, taking a slow minute to look the woman over. Everything about her said new money or trying to be. Artfully teased blonde hair, impeccable make up, designer cropped top and skinny jeans rounded off by sneakers that probably cost more than Sari's coat. She shrugged.

*I don't know, Blondie. Can you?" She took a small step forward. Standing a hair under 6 feet in her platform boots, she towered over the blonde by at least 6 inches. Blondie looked up and took a small step back. Sari pressed forward again, looking round as she did so. The boyfriend was watching now, although he seemed unsure what was going on or what to do.

"I just came in for a quiet drink, maybe find someone to play a game with..." Sari smirked again, lowering her voice and leaning to speak directly into her ear. "Do you want to play with me?" By now Sari had backed the blonde against the wall, but turned and gestured innocently to the pool table.

The blonde stuttered, unsure and afraid. Sari could hear her heart racing. She closed her eyes and listened, swaying ever so slightly to the beat. She could almost smell the blood rushing just under the surface of her skin, felt like if she just reached out with her tongue she could taste it. Smiling a little to herself, she walked away from the girl. Making her way to the boy, Sari folded her arms.

"What about you? You want to take me on?" After a short delay, she tipped her head towards the table.

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The leather-clad woman was not deterred by the little lady’s tone. She approached her and made the kind of conversation Clyde imagined a poisonous snake would make with a trapped mouse if either party could speak. The smaller woman backed away until she was right up against the wall, stammering her responses. Clyde expected some kind of fight to break out, but the woman in leather turned her attention to the man, who’d been watching the situation with interest but hadn’t intervened. Not much of a gentleman, from Clyde’s perspective.

The guy stood up straight when the woman approached him and asked if he’d like to take her on. He hesitated a long time. Clyde wasn’t sure if his hesitation was because he was debating a response, or if he was actually considering her offer. The blonde woman scuffled nervously over to him.

“We’re in the middle of a game,” she said.

It wasn’t clear whether she was talking to her boyfriend or the other woman. Maybe both. The guy cleared his throat.

“I, uh, think I’m gonna go get another beer.”

He set his pool cue against the wall and headed over to the bar. With a quick glance at the leather-clad woman, the blonde quickly followed him. Clyde wondered if they’d attempt to return to the game. Clyde stood, leaving his drink and newspaper at the table as he approached the remaining woman, clearly an outsider compared to the rest of the patrons.

“I think you rattled ‘em good,” Clyde said.

He nodded in the direction of the couple, now arguing quietly by the bar.

“I can’t believe you.”

“What?”

“What do you mean, ‘what?’ I thought she was gonna strangle me or something and you just stood there like an idiot.”

“Oh, I’m an idiot?”

Clyde tuned out their conversation for the moment and held out a hand to the woman in front of him.

“Name’s Clyde.”

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Sari grew bored of waiting for the guy to respond. She was about to turn away when the blonde scurried over and they both took off for the bar. She watched them go, internally giving a shrug. The blonde wore too much perfume and it made her nose itch, and the guy lacked balls. Really, was it too much to ask for someone to engage in a little verbal sparring, these days? Or even physical sparring. She wasn’t that picky. All she really wanted was a way to pass the time.

She was aware of someone coming to stand at the side of her, but her attention was still on the couple at the bar.

“I think you rattled them good.” The newcomer spoke.

Sari tipped her head to indicate she was listening, but otherwise kept her attention on the couple. They were bickering quietly and she’d give even odds that the woman would have told all her friends just how useless her companion was by lunch the next day.

The newcomer spoke again, holding out his hand, “Name’s Clyde.”

For a second, she debated ignoring him but the evening didn’t really offer many other prospects for conversation. Turning slowly she looked from the hand to the face the hand belonged to, then back to the hand. It didn’t appear that the guy was looking for a fight; his whole appearance and demeanour screamed “harmless”. Wondering if this was some kind of trick, she tilted her head consideringly before taking it and shaking.

“Elli.” She nodded as she gave the pseudonym, her whisky and gravel voice soft under the music playing on the jukebox. Dropping Clyde’s hand, she folded her arms across her chest. “Can I help ya?”

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The woman kept her gaze on the couple at the bar, but somehow Clyde knew she was listening. Some subtle change in her expression, a slight change in body language - little clues gave her away that a less keen eye and a younger mind wouldn't have noticed. He held out his hand for a long moment. She seemed poised to ignore him, but he didn't waver. He had the bloodlust of a monster, but the patience of a saint.

She turned to look at him, looking from his hand to his face, her expression seemingly neutral. She looked thoughtful for a second and shook his hand. He smiled warmly. She said her name was Elli.

"Good to meet you, Elli," he said.

She folded her arms across her chest and he shoved his own hands into his pockets.

"Can I help ya?"

Clyde shrugged.

"Just makin' friendly conversation," he said. "Figured it'd be a nice change of pace."

The blonde at the bar stormed off and headed out the door. Her boyfriend looked around, hesitated, and followed her out.

"Baby, come on..."

He disappeared out the door. Clyde's gaze lingered on the door for a long moment and glanced at the pool table.

"Looks like the pool table's freed up. You still lookin' for someone to square up with?"

Pool wasn't Clyde's favorite passtime, but conversation with interesting people sometimes required doing things one didn't like.

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Sari watched warily as Clyde put his hands in his pockets, shoulders tensing slightly. It seemed that she was always on edge these days. And one never knew exactly what people kept in their pockets. She’d learned that the hard way a week ago when the guy she’d been talking to had decided to take a swing at her with a roll of quarters bunched in his fist. Honestly, she’d thought those were a myth.

“Just makin’ friendly conversation. Figured it’d be a nice change of pace.” He told her with a shrug.

Trying to keep her face neutral, Sari ran through the options in her head. One, she could go along with it, and have someone to talk to. Two, she could walk out of the door and spend the rest of the night alone. There was always option three, start a fight. But this looked to be the kind of place that took notice of things like that, and chances were that people would remember her already. Hell, she was polar opposite to most of the crowd in here. And people tended to remember someone who stood out.

She noticed Clyde watching the door and followed his gaze. Huh, she’d forgotten all about the blonde and her beau. She watched as they left, the blonde definitely in a strop and the boyfriend following along like a good little pet. She was still eyeing the door and almost missed it when Clyde spoke again.

“Looks like the pool table’s freed up. You still lookin’ for someone to square up with?”

Mentally cursing herself for her lack of attention, she nodded slowly and turned towards the table. The balls were in disarray from where Blondie and her fellow had abandoned their game but no one had yet taken it upon themselves to start a new one. Taking a slow step forward, she paused. She was confused as to why this guy in particular was being nice to her. Keeping her back to Clyde, she asked,

“Why?”