[Rem]

Rated M for Mature. 8D

Now that they had the fake ID out of the way, Eric led Michael to a row of stores a few blocks from his friend's decrepit flat. It was a dim, dirty little street, but each window was lit up with strings of lights or artistically-shaped neon signs. There was a gallery, two shops that sold 'adult' goods, three clothing stores, a few that sold various odd sundries and a brewery; the street was alive with freaks, people in black leather or vinyl, people with tattoos and piercings everywhere there was skin, people with dyed hair cut in elaborate, insane stylings. The clothing stores proudly displayed rubber dresses, boots tall enough that tripping would result in a broken ankle, bondage gear, and clothing that didn't even look like it was meant to be worn. This place would be overrun with hipsters and afterwards, yuppies in a few years time but right now it was still underground, still unknown and undiscovered enough that it's regular denizens walked freely, letting their freak flag fly.

It was here that Eric led Michael into a store that boasted a manniquin in its window dressed from head to toe in crimson red vinyl. "Let's get you in something more ah...appropriate," Eric grinned, eyeing Michael's outfit. "You look like one of those kids in the Homeless Runaway special reports." He spied something on a rack and held it up, holding back snickers. "How about this?"

[Duce]

Michael couldn't believe his eyes. No, he literally could not believe them. Surely they were lying, and there was some crazy hidden street underneath this one. The neon signs and the dirty sidewalk were all just a ruse, the hookers and oddly dressed people walking around like it was their version of a mall was all just something his eyeballs made up to slide on over the reality that the street was normal and prim as could be. Right?

..Right, that's what he thought.

Honestly, for a moment he was confused. This didn't fit. Not in his brain anyways. He was being pissy, and the little asian brainchild thought surely- if Eric was going to take him somewhere where he was supposed to look like a grownup, and not a scraggly urchin- he wasn't going to bring him to stripper city and make him wear bongo shorts?

A man sidestepped him as they headed into a shop, his eyes drifting over the display mannequins as though they should have somehow known they were dressed that way- the guy under his feet mumbling something about 'ole jack' while clutching his coat front. He seemed the type too, waltz along till someone tripped over him, then demand money as payment for the misdeed. Not Michael though! Not he! he tripped with grace, practically stumbling and leaping over the guy before shuddering and practically sloughing off after Eric as though the man had leprosy. Honestly he didn't like acting that way- but he had been there. And he knew the man would make trouble. It was part of the business. Hell, it was typically 20% of the profit margin. That's what he was- evil billionaire beggar-guy. Well, beggar-guy was defeated with a hop, a trip, a near-nose-plant, and another scuffling scramble before Michael felt as though he had stepped from the sun into the molten core. The..hell...was this shit..?

He blinked and looked around with his body dipped forward, arms out to catch himself on nothing as fingertips splayed over the exposed groin of a standing dummy in nothing but a pvc micro mini skirt, the belt-like piece of attire doing nothing to hide the barbie-doll split he conveniently had caught himself on. He looked like a deer in headlights as his head came up, hair obscuring his face in a fashion half as comical as it really should have been. Like a teeny bopper in front of her first grown up lady's store. He watched the red headed vampiric bastard like he would bite (Knowing full well that he did.) as he wandered in and among the clothes; catching the Asian shifter's own a glance like he were coated over in soot and patches. Bastard..

His eyes snapped to the outfit Eric held up, a choking sort of squeak issuing from his throat as it closed and refused entry or exit of anything for a moment. His nose drew in a great breath of steadying air as he told his cheeks that they would cease their silly reddening THIS. INSTANT.

"I am so not wearin' that, 'cause if y'think I'm gonna go 'roun' lookin' like the hooker t' yer fancy business mafia man pimp, y'got a shit ton 'a 'other crap comin'." He said in a very well articulated rush, striding over to snatch the 'outfit' from the green eyed Puck's hands- hold up to himself with a little wriggle and a very mature sticking out of his tongue before tossing it over the top of the closest rack. HONESTLY! The hell was he thinking? He'd only dress like that for-....for...well, Maybe, if Eric asked real nice- NO! NO!NO!NONONONO!OH HELL NO.

"Besides, pink and stripes? I ain't got nothin' t' hold it up in the front, an nothin' t' hold it down in the back. It'd look like a wet t-shirt on a fatman." He gave the bottom of the skirt bit a yank, making the thing slide a little down on the rack before waltzing his way in and through a couple more displays- contemplating just hiding in the middle of one like he used to when he was little. Not as small anymore..but he could probably duck. He actually found himself glancing over something shiny and black, mesh sleeves hanging off it with a skirt decorated in all number of silver chains and pins- like a monster had eaten a few punk rock bands and just vomited up the metal bits onto the fabric. He quickly dropped his hand after touching it with a great intake of breath; turning on a heel with a look of embarrassed shock. He wasn't looking at women's clothing, he wasn't looking at women's clothing, he wasn't looking at women's clothing, he wasn't looking a- okay so fuck it, he was looking at women's clothing. .."WHERE'S THE BOY'S SHIT!? This' gay as crap!" He raged to no one, knowing the edge in his voice ruined the bravado by a hundred times. Fuck the sales person- He was trying his damndest to be a grownup; and Eric just kept making him feel like a little be-spectacled school girl today.

[Rem]

Eric just laughed uproariously at Michael's tantrum, having to hold onto a rack of fancy black ruffled loli dresses lest he collapse onto the floor. Oh this kid, how he killed him! And he knew Michael would pitch a fit and a half if he knew he thought like that. That maddening grin slid over his lips once more and he straightened himself up, leaning an elbow on the rack and nonchalantly waved a hand over his shoulder, palm up, fingers loosely pointing at some vague spot behind and to the right of where they were. "Over there. But I don't know, I really think this section suits you more." His tongue slid cheekily over his bottom lip and he took a languid step towards the smaller male, reaching a hand out to brush the backs of his fingers over Michael's cheek, the other sliding into his pocket. "Those...delicate features fit lace and silk more than denim and leather, don't you think?" he said softly and it was hard to tell if he was teasing or serious. With Eric though you could almost guarantee 90% of the time it was both at once. He slid his hand out of his pocket and produced a wad of cash, which he held out to the boy. "But it really is your choice. Buy whatever you want," he grinned again. "My treat. Just try not to end up looking like you're on your way to a warehouse bash, eh?"

[Duce]

...Kill him. He was going to kill him. Did vampire taste like corpses, or beef jerky? Alright so he knew that the bastard tasted like, but the seething hatred in the thought fit the situation. ...Sort of.

"Yea, My choice." He couldn't have handled himself better- even though his cheeks were running rampant with red at the statements. The touch across his cheek. What WAS he supposed to think? He really wanted to grin stupidly and skip away like a girl with presents; or take a shocked step back like those goofy bottoms on anime.

Instead, he stood there staring at his fist full of cash for a few seconds with a dull look on his face, then glanced up from under his eyebrows with such a sly little grin on his face that you couldn't have made a link between him and the person who had been standing there before. "Compromise."

And then it was like watching someone grab everything they needed for a mad experiment. He ran- well, quickly dashed from place to place around the store, going here, there, even leaving at one point to go across the street to another more...respectable? Looking place before dashing back in. It wasn't until he had a whole pile of brightly colored crap that didn't seem to match at all that he finally shoved his way into a dressing room.

Only to come out looking like business slut meets The Don at a toxic spill. High heeled pinstripe pumps met filigree day-glo green stockings, riding their way up into a short black mini skirt. A silky as hell purple button up shirt found it's way into the waist of that, with a white waist cincher underneath what looked like a pinstripe coat with tails; a bright green fedora sporting a black band sat atop all that, and the grin on his face was just daring the blood sucking rat bastard to question him. He liked unusual. He -could- dress sensibly, if he really had to. But damnit, who liked to make sense? Besides; he had on a thong. Couldn't go wrong with any outfit calling for a thong and short anything.

"Complaints are to be submitted in writing." He said very pointedly, wishing for two seconds that he hadn't ditched his reading glasses years back. A cool side adjustment right there would have been damned dramatic. Plus he was three inches taller. Bonus~

[Rem]

Eric strolled around the store, fingering this item and that item idly, barely paying attention as Mikey made his mad dash around to gather up the pieces of whatever "outfit" he was putting together; circus clown, voodoo, alien, medieval elf from some fantasy realm--? Eric had no idea how he was going to come out, but he didn't bother to notice until he heard the chime of the door and saw Mikey sprint across the street to gather more materials. What the hell--? What was he putting together?!?

Mikey disappeared into the dressing room before he had a chance to say anything, and he paced outside the room, half expecting to hear the noise of power tools from behind the door. All he saw were pieces of clothing that didn't seem like they matched and some bright colors. But nothing prepared him for what the boy was actually wearing. "Wh--" he blinked, blinked again and for a minute didn't realize his jaw had fallen open. "...huh." He eyed the outfit, gaze traveling from that hat -- good god that was green -- to the coat, to the skirt, to the stockings and shoes, and back up again. "Well then." He cleared his throat, eyes locked on that tiny skirt and then slowly grinned. It was bright, bold and brazen -- much like the boy himself -- and he wasn't about to order him to be dull. Besides -- he looked hot. He looked -- mmm very hot.

He stepped closer, brushing his fingers over the outfit, tracing the cincher and running down the skirt to finger the stockings, his fingers brushing over Michael's thigh, teasing up the edge of the skirt. A slight smirk curled the corner of his lip. "Nice," he said. And that was all he said, turning to stroll over to the door, to wait for him. "Pay for it and let's go."

[Duce]

"Yes Mother." That, that was worth the feeling of wind between his thighs alone. Michael smirked as he sauntered over to the counter, no stranger to the fucked up way he had to walk just to keep from breaking an ankle. Had the hips for it at least- hurrah. He had to actually wander in a circle, do a little bit of counter hopping in order for the poor employee to get at all his tags- and the few he stole off the stockings. What? he so wasn't wearing them with strings attached.

Once his fun at the counter was over with, he took what was left and tucked it into the top half of the cincher like a woman with her bra, grinning from ear to ear before sliding up to his rather pleased looking friend. "What? Did'ja think I wore trash 'cause I didn' know better?" He looked like the cat who'd eaten the canary, all grins and wicked silent chuckles.

[Rem]

Eric was quiet a moment, appraising Mikey with an unreadable expression, then grinned. "Nah," he said with a shrug. "You just ain't got anything to prove." He reached out and tussled his hair with something not unlike affection. "One of the things I like about ya." He turned, then stopped before the door, lips pursed and held up a finger. "Hold on." His head turned back to Mikey and he looked him over a moment. "Something's missing. Wait here." He headed back to the store, disappearing into it's recesses, near some shelves on the back wall, perusing them briefly before moving over to the cashier. He was back only moments later, having purchased whatever it was he'd selected. "Turn around." It was obvious he wasn't moving on until Michael obeyed his command, and he waited for him to do so. He then slipped something around his neck -- reflected in the mirror on the shop door, it was a delicate silver chain, on which hung a crimson-red ruby, nearly the same rich hue as Eric's hair -- and fastened it, his fingers brushing over Mikey's collarbone as he moved the stone to hang perfect and straight. "There..." Smiling, he leaned over the boy's shoulder, his hands on his shoulders, and whispered in his ear, so close his lips brushed his skin. "Now it's perfect." A collar might have been more expected, but this was more...appropriate, he felt. He straightened and pushed open the door, walking past Mikey out into the night. "Come on, it's not far from here." He smirked. "You think you can walk okay or do you need my arm, princess?"

[Duce]

A compliment! Or...well..okay, so he was taking that as a compliment. Sue him for being all kinds of giddy about it. "Missing? The fuck is missing?" He asked, giving his hips a jut to the side, mentally adding I've even got the freakin' thong. The hell is missing? But there was no way in hell he was advertising his underwear to the world. Or..diminishing ownership thereof. His hands went to the bag he had over his arm, all his discarded punky clothes- damn they were freaking heavy when he wasn't wearing them. Fingertips tripped over his flashy false I.D., and he had to smirk to himself.

at least, until Eric came back, and he frowned. "You do anything to my butt here in the street, and you'll have to find your dick in a gutter." No anger, actual warning, or malice; his voice was calm conversational fact as he gave the vampire a look like he was trying to read his mind- before promptly spinning on a toe to clap one foot to the pavement, heels clacking with finality. The fuck was he-?

He stood still and stupid for a moment, looking over the thing. Sure, Eric had technically bought the whole damn outfit, but that he'd run back in to get him something was sort of...well, nice. It only slightly registered that it was probably his version of a collar- most s&m style places tended to have a sign of ownership..mostly so you didn't get raped in the ear with a pineapple.

"It uhh.." He swallowed, watching it glitter against his pale reflection before manning up and dropping his hand, a huffy look on his face underneath the bright rosy cheeks. "It doesn't really match, but I guess it's fine." Shit it was pretty. Like someone had melted Eric's hair down into gemstone form..Lips touched his skin and it was all he could do not to melt right there. And then the bastard was off and away. They would fucking play this game of 'better bastard' for the rest of time- but Michael was damn well determined to win. FUCK!

"First off," He started, putting his arms up behind his head like a model waiting for someone to take a shot of her tits- arms folded behind him with that damnable sex filled grin of his "Y'don' buy shoes like these without knowin' how t' walk in 'em." His had slid forward with a hidden motion of one hand, resting cockeyed over his brow as he swung his hips, teasing the shit out of the skirt as he sauntered outside; as though he could hear some silent feral beat that ground his hips left and right as he left the store- heading out enough to turn around and drop his hands, leaning forward as he faced the vampire; no doubt flashing the hell out of everything in the vicinity of his ass; sad vampire misses booty shots. He stood slowly; sliding hands from knees to thighs- high enough to flash the tops of his stockings before gripping the bottom of the skirt just shy of anything worth seeing, "Second, no princess will ever be as much fun as I am." And he tossed the skirt's hem down, the pleats bouncing and swaying as hands went to his hips. "Now lead the way Prince Charming."

[Rem]

Eric watched that amazing display and at the end the only thing he could think to do was applaud, and he did so, with a grin on his face. "Yes ma'am!" he saluted and slapped the boy square on the ass as he passed him, then slid his hands back in his pockets and walked on cheerily; you'd almost expect him to whistle.

They walked on for a few more blocks, the bright neon-lit cheeriness of the shops fading to a darker, slightly more sinister feeling. The area started to become more direlect, more condemned buildings spotting the landscape than before and the pools of light the streetlamps provided became fewer and farther between. Eric didn't pause or stutter in his gait though, looking like he hadn't a care in the world, obviously expecting Mikey to keep up his pace and not dart ahead or fall behind. However, he did walk a little closer to the younger male when they passed the odd pedestrian, and one moment while they were walking by a tight knot of people dressed all in black and leather lounging at the mouth of an alley, his arm found its way around Mikey, pulled him closer and stayed there. He didn't turn his head or break his gait however, even when an odd, weak moan drifted from the middle of the cluster of people.

Soon he stopped in front of a non-descript building, which housed a door set low below ground, with steps leading down. There was no indication of any activity, the building and door riddled with graffiti, and not a soul in sight. Though if someone had really good hearing, they might detect the faint sound of music wafting from the boarded-up windows. Amidst the graffiti was a red X painted onto the door, small and unobtrusive, but oddly enough prominant to the right set of eyes. Eric led Mikey down the steps and took his hand for the first time since they started out. "Stay close to me, okay?" he said softly, his tone light, but serious. He knocked six times on the door and suddenly there was a scraping sound and a pair of eyes peered out from the small sliding panel set above the red X that wasn't visible moments before. "Yes?" said a gruff voice from behind the door. Eric said nothing, only dug into his pocket and produced some sort of token, a gold disc that had a X scratched into it. He held it up in front of the door and the person behind merely grunted and slid the panel shut. Deadbolts were pushed open and the door swung inward, into a small foyer that was dark, but still faintly lit. Eric grinned and pulled Mikey in after him, nodding at the huge man who held the door open. He nodded brusquely and then blinked at the site of Michael, raising an eyebrow but only rolled his eyes, giving a shrug and shut the door behind them, taking his place on a stool beside it. The foyer was papered with advertisements and -- strangely, missing persons reports, like the sort you might see in the post office -- and led to a little hallway off to the side. There was a cut-out in the wall, which housed an office, most likely a coat check and Eric stopped there. There was a pale woman with frosted blonde hair sitting at a desk behind the glass in the wall and she looked up at him without interest. "Name?" she said, yawning and then blinked at Mikey and stifled a grin behind her hand.

"Eric Amsterdam," the redhead said with a grin at Mikey and nodded towards him. "This is Michael Lupin." Oh, how clever he thought he was.

The girl nodded, writing down their names as Eric slipped off his coat. "You can check that jacket and hat if you want," he murmured to Mikey. "Don't have to, though."

"Fledgling, thrall or 'doll?" the girl continued in a bored tone, barely looking at them.

"Guest," Eric said firmly, reaching into his shirt pocket and pulling out a card with a strange symbol on it, a circle with a straight cross through it.

The girl actually looked up at him this time, her eyebrow raised in obvious disbelief. "Seriously?" She looked Mikey up and down and then snorted. "Where's his token? He's not even a--"

"He doesn't need one," Eric said, stone cold, and slid his card in the little slot above the desk. "He's my guest, and is to be treated so." The girl looked at the symbol on the card and visibly blanched - or would have, if she weren't already ghostly pale. She cleared her throat, quietened in a heartbeat. "Yes sir," she said stiffly. "Let me get your identification...blue or black?"

"Black, I think. I don't feel much for conversation tonight."

The girl rose wordlessly -- she hadn't raised her eyes to either of them since seeing that card -- and moved to a back door, disappearing behind it for a moment. Eric smiled at Mikey and brushed his fingers through his hair, pushing it out of his face, then dropped his hand when the woman reappeared, holding a box with the same symbol on it. She opened it and pulled a black leather armband from it, which also held the symbol, and a matching white one. She slid the bands and the card back through the slot and Eric picked them up, fasting the white one around Mikey's right upper arm before doing the same to his own with the black. He left some money for the coat check and took the numbered slip, pushing it into his pocket and then slid his fingers through Mikey's against and squeezed them.

"Remember what I said," was all he said, softly, and then led the boy through the hallway, which grew progressively, the walls fairly papered in Missing Persons reports and other news briefs of various murders and even stranger crimes. Jokes, crude comments and perverse drawings were scribbled all over them. That faint music grew louder and louder, and after nodding another fellow who could be the front door guy's twin, Eric pushed open the double doors, blasting them with music, light and freezing cold air, leading Michael into one of the hottest underground S&M vampire clubs in the city.

I wanted to describe it but I'm too tired so I'll just do a quick descript here xD
It's dark and crowded like an underground club should be, but huuuge -- there's a bar at the front, in the middle and in the back. there's different levels too, a lower dance pit, and lounge areas that go down. There's a stage with a singer and a DJ, dancers up on poles in areas. There's a room that leads off to the left, with a curtain of leather strips -- that's the stuff where the outright sex and bdsm stuff happens, and there's a room to the right with a huge red X on it, and ...creeepy sounds come from there. Like moans and whimpers for help and stuff >u> . that's the VIP area. EVERYONE has a band around their upper arm.
black - vampire, blue - vampire Master (vip), silver - vampire fledgling, brown - human/other thrall (servant), red - blood doll (humans and SOME other but mostly humans), purple - employee, white - guest.
Guests are not to be touched by anybody, reds can have whatever anyone wants done to them, the others vary. Reds belong to either a clubgoer or the club, and you have to pay a blood fee to the owner of a doll, unless its own by the house. Every band has a symbol of a particular vampire 'house' - so you know who owns who. And it's also an S&M club so there's people being led around by leashes, people in full leather gear and gimp masks, etc.
8D I'll let you run rampant with your own major description, that's just the gist of it!

[Duce]

Michael kept virtually silent on their little walk, smirking with his mini victory as they traveled from what seemed now as though light to dark. And he had thought he had seen the lows already- now he just felt like he'd walked across a wolf's tongue..or through a ghost. Or something easily as eerie and even more sinister. The sounds crawling their way up the street made him want to look around like a frightened cat- but like most things, it made his bored face thicker. His hand would lightly grip at the back of the one slung so friendly across his waist; and he knew it was there for more than just a quick touch and tease. The smells alone! He could piece together this or that, little scenes playing through his head that he dare not acknowledge.

And then they got to the club.

Like walking between curtains into the actual stage. For a moment his head was dizzy with scents and sounds, needy little inputs trying to get his attention until his head buzzed with it. He hadn't even registered the man at the door- hadn't paid much attention until they stopped moving at the counter. He blinked several times, the near-stoned look on his face curling around itself in a cruel grin as he tried to acclimate to the different clima-No. Atmosphere. The air in here was simply different than that from outside. As though they were on a different planet. And he may as well have been, for all the good it was doing him. He looked like the sinister Jester the Devil might keep at his side; smirking like that. The woman's words bothered him, but he couldn't quite concentrate until she looked suddenly afraid. As though Eric had told her that he liked the pair of panties she kept on the second shelf of her closet; back left. It made him snicker a bit and turn to put his face against the vampire's shoulder, little hissing giggles as he tried to work his brain around what was happening. Dude, it was like a freaking safety convention!

He watched the woman produce their armbands, vaguely recalling something...Ah, stay close. Right. He watched the white one go on his arm, and thought 'huh, it matches.' beaming at the vampire. He stopped soon as he started though, frowning. Could think a little better without his hand plastered all on his own- but it was replaced yet again when they began moving off. Taking a deep breath he steadied himself- had to keep re-thinking his position (What position?) as they moved down the plastered hallway. The papers helped a bit, actually. They put a sense of unease in the air. It was like walking around a serial killer's newspaper collection. His 'boasting' board. Was that what it was? Maybe they were all just really morbid and amused by it?

Ooh if wishes were fishes, right?

He smirked then- but it fell off his face in a soft shocked sort of way as they came to the actual club. Bar? Geeze, he hoped there wasn't more even more involved spaces than this. It was like walking into an S&M circus, and the circus animals were people. If he had been heady with scent, smell, sight, sound, hell- even taste before, then he was instantly damn near drunk now. He even wobbled- the first time since he'd donned his very....very sensible shoes. "Oh fuck me." He breathed in an overwhelmed, half disgusted sort of way- voice hoarse enough that you could have thought it was because he'd downed a shot of hard whiskey.

All around the room he saw people in various forms of submission, and those presiding over them. It wasn't so much the clothes he saw and noticed, it was the armbands. Black was prominent, followed by red. And then he saw red all over the place like poppies, purple sparingly- and even less common was white. His head started swirling contemplating what each meant based on who he saw doing, and wearing what. It was like trying to see all of a chinese mafia man's tattoos at once- fucking hard.

"Does it gotta be so damned fucking cold? I think my balls are in my neck." When in doubt- get prissy. He made a small face of irritation, grabbing Eric's hand to sling over his shoulder on a more 'friendly less sexy' sort of way as he leaned into him- as if using his lack of body heat as a coat. His fingers laced with those pale enough to rival his own skin, his look of slightly irritated boredom doing nothing to hide the OH GOD WHAT THE HELL that was most likely dripping from his pores.

...Was it possible to be really fucking excited and scared shitless at the same time?

[Rem]

Eric breathed in deep, looking around the place. So familiar; so much of it so achingly familiar. He hadn't actually been here in a long while, but not much had changed. It was a vampire thing, really; so few of them liked change, especially the older they got. The newest thing was a row of privacy booths that lined the back walls, past the dance floor and around to the back of the club, flimsy curtains hiding whatever happened within from prying eyes. That was new. Used to be they'd leave everything out in the open for all to see and enjoy. Must've been some regulations added from the cops. Oh yes, the authorities knew about this place, but the take was rich to look the other way. Besides, it kept the vampire population mostly sated, so they didn't have to run around killing hookers and folk that wandered down the wrong street. Not that that didn't happen, anyway of course. But the take was good.

Eric snapped out of his thoughts and turned to Mikey, squeezing his shoulder, about to ask if he wanted to get a booth or go get a drink now, but the look on the youth's face made him stop and peer more closely. "Hey -- you okay?" He chewed on his lip, wondering if this had been a bad idea; he really had just been bored, but a part of him thought Mikey might like something as -- out there as this place was. He didn't even think about what it looked like to outsiders; it was just...familiar, to him. "You wanna sit down? Here--c'mon," he started to lead the smaller male over to some empty tables slightly out of the way but with a view of the dance floor. But he suddenly stopped on his way there as if he'd hit an invisible wall, and that protective arm snaked it's way around Mikey again, holding him close. Highbloods coming.

A small group of vampires was walking through the throngs of people, who parted for them like Moses was doing his Red Sea bit. At the head was a woman of impossible beauty and stature, dressed in some high-collared black vinyl creation, that clung to every curve til it reached her hips and fell in oily pools around her feet. She was taller than almost everyone she passed, wearing platform shoes that would make a bondage slave cry. Her hair was white, slicked back and high, and her face perfectly porcalin except for tiny red painted doll lips and long black eyelashes. She looked like some nightmare version of Marie Antoinette.

A deep rich blue armband was encircling her upper arm, matching the bands around the arms of her three male companions, who were dressed in typical goth fancy suits and just as frighteningly beautiful as her. What really made the crowd part, however, was a large wolf that padded along beside the woman. The wolf had a white band fastened around its wolfy leg, and it would have been comical, if anyone had dared to laugh.

They were being trailed by a few girls and boys decked out in silver armbands, who were literally leading a chain of women following behind, dressed much less richly; in fact hardly dressed at all. Red armbands marked them, and the crowed snickered and joked as they passed. The entire entourage was walking towards the doorway marked with a red X. An employee opened it for them and the woman and her companions passed within without barely a glance towards anyone.

The fledglings followed, herding the humans inside, who were clinging to one another and looking particularly fearful. The symbols on their bands did not match the house, and whispered words around Eric and Mikey said they were payment for a debt; a typical transaction there, but not one that was particularly desired amongst the blood dolls. It was considered a spineless and low way to settle ones' dues, and anyone swapped was considered to be worth less, and was treated so.

The wolf had stopped, waiting til all had disappeared into the darkness within and then she seemed to shake herself and with a cracking sound -- like bones splintering, enough to set ones teeth on edge -- she transformed from wolf to woman, in a way that was both unnerving and beautiful, rising gracefully to her feet as she did. She looked around with a wolfish smirk, fully nude except for her armband, accepting a cloak offered to her by an employee. Before she entered, her eye caught Eric and Mikey and she stopped, staring at the youth for a moment. Eric edged the boy behind himself and glared at the woman, who laughed softly and headed into the room, shutting the door behind her.

The crowds had formed again, gossiping fast and furious about these new arrivals and Eric sighed, continuing on to the table he had been steering Mikey towards before they were interrupted. "Freaking show-offs," he muttered, plopping down in a seat and rubbing a hand through his hair.

[Duce]

Michael managed to actually sling himself over eric's shoulder with a drunken sort of giggle. It was girly as hell, but he couldn't help it. The look on his face still held that terrified edge; as though he were at the at the top of the last hill on the roller-coaster- and it was the biggest one yet. He actually had to steel himself; stand up straight and take a deep breath. It was like wanting nothing more to laugh for the rest of time- to have that one long, good belly laugh; and having to go blank and empty. It almost hurt, but he could act...well, normal if he wanted to. His cheeks were still stained pink, and his eyes held that tiny crinkle at the corners; but at least he wasn't drooling and hanging off the damned vampire brat like some kind of blond with serious mental deficiencies.

"I'm alright, I'm good, I'm- whhhhhutttt the hell...?" He stammered, feet failing him a moment as he smelled; no FELT something floating over his brain like a bottle of everclear. Warning, they needed warning signs. He'd been in the same space as one very old vampire; but this...

It was as though he had taken his brain out, played with it, and then dropped it into a bathtub full of powered on toasters. His hand gripped at the one around him, almost holding on for dear life (Almost). It was all he could do to keep from falling down as his legs went damn near to jelly. WARNING! With warning came preperation, and with preperation came dignity! And dignity was his sanity. He physically breathed in the tangible and intoxicating air and exhaled it- closing his eyes for a moment as his head lolled about on his shoulders and cleared; wincing open one eye as though it had blood in it before opening the other; laboured breathing and a pained expression followed before melting almost instantaneously into one of thick boredom. Guards...he had them up now. Can has prize, yes?

He watched the procession, eyes flitting from one terrible beauty to the next before watching all the red banded little humans being paraded through- but what his eyes stayed on was the wolf with it's white coat and white band. He swallowed an excited growl, sounding suddenly as though he hiccuped; going on tiptoes as if he actually needed to. Female..but his mind whirled with barely human thought, and less than human instincts. Was she faster than he was? Who was stronger? Had she been here a long time? What places had she been recently? He wanted a sniff. That thought made him want to step back and take a big breath of sweaty dancefloor. He didn't even question it when Eric put him behind himself.

Licking his lips he watched them all go; raising a pierced eyebrow as the wolf stopped shy of the door. Bones cracked, ligaments snapped, and muscles reshaped like living things under the skin. She changed, and he looked almost benign; having to watch it over and over tended to deaden you somewhat. Sometimes he wished he changed like everyone else, instead of being much like melting butter. And the look on her face before she left- he hadn't even realized he had gone on tiptoes; sliding arms around Eric's neck as though he were being posessive; which it might have been part, but moreso it was to keep himself up- and back. He had the sudden urge to take off after her, which would never end well- not in any of his lives at least.

They moved to a table and he actually let Eric help him, sitting down with a flop as he let his things hit the floor. "F-fine..I'm fine.." He swallowed, squirming in his seat as his brain struggled between human and animal, alien and jelly. "Feed me." He demanded, rolling his head to the side before flashing a grin that looked full of sex, promise, threat, and machinations nobody could decipher even if they had all of the world to do it.

[Rem]

Eric watched him keenly and then gave a wry chuckle, shaking his head. "You -- are so not okay," he sighed and flagged down a male with a purple armband. "But you're not bleeding from the eyeballs or foaming at the mouth, so I'm just gonna move on. But if you ah...start feeling sick or anything, let me know, okay?" He hadn't even thought how being in such a confined space with so many supernatural creatures would affect the youth; he knew how much Mikey intoxicated him, and he had an idea that the boy was more susceptable to that sort of feeling, though he couldn't figure why. It was kind of cute, to be honest. He looked totally drunk off his ass, and a sly little grin slid over his lips as his body slid closer to the other. How drunk?

"Sure thing, princess...I'll feed you anything you want," he murred, moving a hand to Mikey's leg, sliding it up, the skirt crinkling before it as he moved those lightly-grazing digits higher and higher. "What d'ya want?" What did he eat anyway? Food? Blood? Raw meat? They had raw meat... haha he had some meat for him... nahhh he was classier than that, and that was a terrible line.

[Duce]

"I'm fine.." He was trying to crawl back into his skin, even though it felt like he was spread out all over the floor, grinning and giggling. He so wasn't giggling. Alcohol was a touch of poison, quick and heady. Drugs were obsidian and diamonds that flew through his blood like vipers seeking prey. All were thick and fast; but none lasted very long.

This...this was almost painfully constant. Hadn't had to drink anything. Hadn't had to eat anything. Nothing smoked or injected; and he felt like he could fly.

Control control control- he took a steadying breath and shuddered at the voice so close to his head. "Yea..I get sick, an I'll let'cha know." His voice sounded high and amused. ..Would he come down hard afterward? He never did have any sort of...down..what if this scrambled his brains or something? A small giggle flirted it's way through his lips at that thought, a hand going to his mouth as he pulled his head up from it's place at the back of his seat. Odd, when had he let his head drop back? Whatever.

There was that damnable voice again, and a hand that somehow felt far too cold and way way hot at the same time slid across stockings and skin, goosebumps springing up like eager puppies at the scent of treats. "I want..I want.." He thought momentarilly, licking his lips with a roll of his tongue, bottom one in as the top one went out- and then their opposites before he pulled his lipring into his mouth for a hard tug and twist; eyebrows knitting together. "I want somethin' THIS big-" He held his hands out, head inclining forward as he eyed his hands as though having to concentrate on actual distance; even though he held his arms apart until they were wider than the table top. "- An still screamin." He blanched, heart suddenly racing as he took a breath, As though he had suddenly seen the sexiest man on the planet and knew he couldn't refuse anything he said. "N-no..not..not..er..screamin..I..that'd be bad." He thought a moment, having an obvious problem doing so before letting his head suddenly slam into the tabletop, hands trailing down beside him. "I don' fuckin' know..but it's gotta be dead. Uuhhgg.."

He was so screwed if he didn't get his head on straight. Holy SHIT it felt awesome as hell to be alive. He thought about it, licking his lips again. He could almost taste them. All of them. Like sugary batteries on his tongue. Christ..He swallowed, and it was like he was trying to swallow a river. Yeah..food..food would help. Why? Fuck if he knew. You didn't question why eating made you feel better, did you? No. No you don't. Let him alone.

It surprised him to find his hand rubbing up over the one sliding along his leg, a low moan spilling from his lips as he slid himself around on his seat, damn near rolling his hips forward as he drew the hand further up toward the center of his body- sitting up with a jerk so fast there should have been a snap; hardly visible- looking shocked with his hands suddenly appearing in the air over his head as though showing he was unarmed.

"I didn' do that. Didn't...didn...di- screw you." He snarled, upper lip curling at the corner at Eric before he melted into a dreamy eyed grin. "Oh hi." Today, crazy came with a red forehead.

[Rem]

Eric's eyes widened as Mikey cooed and giggled like a freshman girl drunk on strawberry wine coolers; this was a side he wasn't used to seeing. And he liiiked it. His eyes narrowed as the boy slid around, pulled his hand closer to somewhere more than he was expecting -- lids sliding down, he could have growled as a sudden urge to press and squeeze hit him, to grab the other and pull him closer, make more of those moans happen. But before he could do anything Mikey jolted and jerked away. Aw! His grin melted into a warmer smile and he slid his arm around the youth, pulling him closer but only for a rather chaste kiss on his forehead. It was too early for those sort of shenanigans anyway; and besides, he had the uncomfortable feeling he'd be taking advantage of a situation he shouldn't. Damn his sudden chilvary; he'd have to watch that in the future.

But he couldn't help but press a little advantage more, brushing his cool lips down the Asian's temple and cheekbones, tracing the delicate bones of his face and jaw before settling at his neck, and ever so slightly nipping the skin, a sudden, slight tug at his flesh with sharp eyeteeth. And then he pulled away completely, attention drawn to a waiter who walked by and flagged him down.

"Yes sir?"

"Some food please," he smiled at the guy, a rather cute blonde. "I think mmm...a steak, medium rare, with...let's say a Coke...and...I'll just have a bottle of your best."

"A, A negative, B, B negative, O--?"

"Surprise me," he said with a casual wave, and turned his attention back as the waiter nodded and left with his order. He stretched, arching his back, and ran a hand through his hair, mussing it just a bit. "So...I take it you've never been in a vampire bar?" he grinned at Mikey; the understatement of the century. "Or probably any bar, eh? We're already up past your bedtime," he made a show of looking at his watch. "You might miss your Saturday morning cartoons, sorry about that." He ruffled the others' hair. "But I'll try to get you back in bed before you turn into a pumpkin."

It was like he was compelled to be sweet, seductive and an asshole all within a fifteen minute span; he just could not help himself. But he really was going to make sure Mikey had an enjoyable time. Just what sort, he didn't know yet, but it could be interesting...his tongue slid over his bottom lip as his grin curled wickedly. It could be really interesting...and there he was back at those bad, bad thoughts again.

[Duce]

A cool slide along his face, and a sudden pressure against his neck and his head was swimming again, one hand reaching out by reflex to slap what he could reach of Eric's chest; Minutes. MINUTES of hard...concentrating...work stuff. And it was gone like that. His head came back again, and his hands gripped the edge of his skirt to tug it down as if it were the only thing he could do- not so much to keep it in place; as an anchor. For his hands. Which wanted to wander. He was disapointed almost to the point of whining like a pup when Eric pulled away; casting near feral eyes on the waiter as though he were encroaching on his personal space; but Eric had called him over, and was getting him the food he wanted. Needed.

Fine.

Shifting suddenly in his seat as soon as the man left and Eric stopped freakin' talking, he pushed one leg up and over, body twisting as he pushed himself onto Eric's lap; facing him as he settled over the other male's legs- reaching to the table for his fallen hat to pull back over his head before giving the red headed bastard a look of pure unbridled loathing and seething irritation. ..Alright so he probably gave him something close to 'hungry, have sex with me' but he tried. We worked with what we got. Go get 'em champ. Good goin' slugger. ...yeah.

He grabbed Eric's hands and pulled them over the back of his skirt- the thing riding up in his brand spankin' new position- and gave one quick demand. "Keep the back down- if y'don't, I'm gonna be pissed." And settled there like he was going to nap. Far from it of course; but it was all in the name of games! Of course. A challenge good sir, and all that jazz.

He thought for a moment about the comments...questions..statements..observations...w hat he'd said. And tapped a fingertip against the top of the vampire's spine- maybe a little harder than he meant to. "I been in a couple real bars- but I couldn' ever find a proper vampire bar. Thing about it..I wasn' a vampire, an nobody wanted t' share." He smirked, letting the hand wander down the back of the red headed bastard's shirt, drawing red lines as he did so. "An see.. I ain't called'ja a pedophile in hours. An here y'are juss doin' it yerself." He smirked wider, going up a little onto his knees to rake nails suddenly up the length of the green eyed male's spine and stop at his collar bone, fingernails making a hard slithering sound as they did so- rewarding him with little bits of flecked blood smearing behind him. Oooo he'd broken skin. Oops.

He didn't even realize he had his fingertips in his mouth until the odd metalic taste hit his tongue. Ooooooooooooooooooooh sparkly.

And he growled, brain going to puppy mush for a moment.