At that moment, there truly didnt seem to be anything other then mortals in that club, and thats because there wasnt. However, Erik was about to change that. He walked through the door of the club, immediately sensing that there werent many non-mortals here. But, there was one, and he had just walked past him. Erik turned his head to the side, staring at the man with mild interest, before passing him a toothy smile, his fangs detectable spite the heavy strobelights, and continued to walk, heading towards the bar.

He picked out a stool, deliberately picking one where there was another, empty one, sitting next to him. He turned to the bartender and ordered a strong, sour drink, paid him, and turned back to the man. The same toothy smile rested on his thin lips, and he looked quite evil, his messy hair falling into his piercing blue eyes. He lifted his cup in the air to the man, before lowering it to his lips, drinking deeply, wondering if the man would possibly approach him.

But who could resist such a sweet, endearing invitation? It's a conversation that Connell knows well enough--a flash of fangs, a nod, and a decision. Does he accept, or does he ignore the stranger? Fangs here, he reminds himself, could mean something different from fangs back home. With all the others in area, it's hard to pick up a scent, even from this distance. There's no breeze to help him, after all, and there are just too many people, and trails of people who have long since left. He's as nose-blind as any of them tonight, though his neck prickles as one of his senses picks up something otherworldly. Not a shadow, and hopefully not another vampire. A Ruadh can only take so many battles in a few days. Nights. Whatever.

With a small, resigned sort of sigh--he could be charging at a whole new bush of trouble--the canine crosses the room in measured, somewhat dignified strides. At least, that's what he seems to be doing. In his mind, it's rarely a good idea to sneak up on something unknown. He doesn't make any obvious 'I have no weapons' gesture; he isn't certain he wants to admit anything one way or another just yet.

Assuming that he has been so invited, Connell eases onto the stool next to the stranger and nods slowly. It isn't much of a greeting, but the mortal is clearly trying to avoid any wrong steps. A wolf knows the importance of such things. In the strange lighting of the club, his sharp, proud features and muscular outline alternate between illuminated and shadowed, playing with perceptions and making him seem both smaller and larger than he really is. His somehwat upright, moderately short, and for some reason I feel inclined to mention it, soft-looking hair seems a bit disheveled ((sp; it's late)), as though he'd been having a rough time of things. This close, his eyes seem more remarkable than at a distance--nearly black, and at once acting as conduits to his soul, and yet remaining hard as steel, showing nothing. He seems calm, but a bit twitchy, as though the place were affecting him. And while he seems focused on the stranger, he also glances here and there without really moving his eyes, watching the area around him almost warily. What does he expect to find in a nightclub?

Erick had been watching the man with mild interest as he made his decision to approach him. He continued to watch him as he sat down on the stool next to him. And continued to watch him as the wolf watched him. They seemed to be in a sort of staring contest before Erick finally spoke, his toothy smile taking its place again.

"Hello there." He gave him another quick smile, never taking his eyes off him. He had a bad habit of that, just staring at people, as if daring them to do something. Anything. As the lights of the club flashed around them, they reflected off his many piercings, making him look even younger then he all ready did. They looked odd together. The mans sharp and proud features, next to his childish and punk features. The only thing they had in common was their muscular forms.

Connell had stared back, although he remembers hearing something about what a bad idea it is to stare into the eyes of anything immortal. Though, he has no idea what the other man is, and it disturbs him. He concentrates on the fact that, as little as he knows about the guy, he hopefully knows about Faolin. Hopefully. He wishes he could get outside, or that this place weren't saturated in the scent of humans and alcohol, or that at the very least, the music weren't so loud. Anything to get even a hint of what this other man is. He can only hope the guy feels the same way, and that they're on even ground for now. Faolin wonders, briefly, why he always immediately assumes he'll be fighting whoever he meets. His first task it always to size them up, and find out as much as he can. Can't he just shake hands and say hello? Bceause it's his way. It's a shame, but at least it's safe that way. He might not make any friends, let alone form a Pack, but he'll stay alive for another day. That has some worth, at least. Makes for a lonely life though.

He nods to the 'young' man, his dark eyes flicking to the crowd and then back. "Nice night for a party," he says with a hint of a smile. So he's no comedian. So sue him. And, figuring that he might as well get this over with, as far as scoping out the potential enemy, he adds as casually as a twitchy wolf can manage, "you from around here?"

He asks this because it would be rude to ask 'what are you?' And dangerous, if his companion take offence, which he almost certainly would. No one seem to have a sense of humour in this city, including Faolin. Not, at least, in these matters. There's nothing funny about getting your head popped off by a vampire, or some such.

Again, Erick refused to take his gaze away from the man. His eyes glimmered as one of the lights strayed over to them, but went back to their dark color as they light went away. His somewhat long hair was spikier then usual today, yet still managed to keep its usual look of bed hair. He lifted his drink to his lips, and drank deeply, not minding the sour taste of it one bit. In fact, it tasted pretty darn good to him. Something different then blood tasted nice to him right now.

He shook his head non-chalently as he asked if he was around here. Lately, sure, he's found this place to be somewhat appealing. But he hadnt been here for quite long, only a little less then a month maybe, if that. He seemed to like to travel, and went wherever his feet took him.

"No. I travel a lot." He actually had not really thought about what the man might be. Any immortal these days was a good immortal to him, unless of course, they meant to kill him. Which he didnt exactly think of. He gave him a quick smile, keeping his eye contact with him, wondering what assumptions he was making about him by now.

Tia sat at the bar watching everybody with her eyes turned eagle. She watched idiots dance and stupid girls (and boys) try to snag somebody to take home. But mostly she watched Faolin and Erick. Something was not quite right about them and her animal senses were -almost literally- banging the inside of her head with large mallets.

Pulling up the hood of her overcoat she changed her ears to cat so as to hear what they were saying. Yes. There was something decicidly odd about their 'innocent' conversation and she'd be damned if she didn't find out.

All Faolin can assume is that he can't discern a damn thing about this guy. If only they could go outside without it seeming like...something. But there's no real way to ask someone to stop outside without it being an invitation, or indicative of an ass-whooping to be. And it would be--or try to be--if Faolin knew what Erick were. Nothing he's heard about vampires has been pleasant, and in an effort to protect all those innocents he cares for, for no particular reason but to satisfy his own protective urges, he would have to attack him. On principle, you see. So it's fortunate for both of them that the Ruadh can't pick up anything, or Erick would have to get annoyed, and Faolin might have to get dead. You know how it is.

So Faolin just nods a little, his dark eyes glittering when the light flicks in their direction. But while he may be nose-blinded, his eyes still work. On a casual scan on the room, he notices someone looking back. His eyes move on, as though he hadn't seen her, but he continues to watch out of the corner of one of said eyes. When the girl--or woman, it's a little hard to tell--does not seem to be moving on, he concludes that he or his new friend are being watched. His dark eyebrows twitch slightly, but he resist their natural drawing in. Now is the time for caution...

"So what are you doing here?" he asks casually, "you don't seem keen on dancing. Don't you find it loud here?" It's time to do some digging on this guy ((sorry if that sounds like something it's not)) and find out what he is, and which of them are bring spied on.

Now Erick, as much as he may seem to be, what with all the piercing etc., is not stupid. His vampire skills, madeit even more so. So you could sure as hell bet he saw that seconds hesitation in the man's eyes as they flickered around the room. He followed the glance quickly, and also noticed the woman looking at them. That wasnt a good sign. It was never good to have someone staring at two immortals. It could just be some woman staring at two, odd-looking-together, but still very good looking individuals, and praying to bring them home. However, she could also be a hunter, which could sometimes be difficult to handle. He suddenly found himself wondering if the immortal sitting next to him knew about the hunters that came after people like him. And then he suddenly realized he didnt know what the man was. He might not even be a vampire. But still, vampire or no vampire, the immortal factor remains. Even if he wasnt a vampire, he would still try to protect him from whatever harm came towards the both of them. The man had done nothing that had been even remotely bothering, so the most he could do was to just trust him for the time being.

"Aye. Im not very keen on dancing. But Im basically just your average alchohaulic, who wastes all their moneys for drinks on Friday, and then recieve entertainment from the shiny strobelights." A thin smile broke on his lips as he motioned towards the strobe lights. Just play it normal. He could tell this man wanted to get outside, and he knew the reasons. He wouldnt lie, he was just a tad anxious to find what the man was as well, but being outside was a far better thing then being inside a crowded club with a might-be vampire hunter on them. "Yes, it is quite loud in here. I cant hear you very well."

Tia reaised her eyebrows with a smile. The younger one obviously thought there was something odd about her too and as she watcheed a littled more it seemed like the older one though't she was a little more than odd. Well, he surely wasn't wrong there and she wasn't even about to correct him. It was fun when she got to be a little mysterious. Hm. She thought, This definitly has the possiblility to be quite fun!

She dropped her hood the instant before turning her ears back to human. She figured that if they really were as odd as they seemed they'd catch that. Or maybe they wouldn't. In that case she'd probably just have to go over and talk to them. Damn. And that would make her mystery instantly disapate. Ah wel;, that's price for knowlege of weirdos.

Distracted by the movement from the direction of their mysterious watcher--his dark eyes narrowing suspiciously as he wonders if he saw what he thinks he just saw--Faolin doesn't answer for a moment. Then, he remembers that he actually has a conversation to attend to. "Hm? Oh, yes, it is loud." Connell considers his next words carefuly, for he suddenly realizes that while he may discover what the other man is--another vampire, another shadow, a demon of some kind, or some other nightcrawler he hasn't yet encountered, the same will be true of the other. That is, as much as he discovers about his new friend, the same will be revealed about himself outside, without the cover of that insufferable music, or the cloud of scents intruding on his sense of smell. Or more. He would caution the man to be wary of him; he has great distaste for demons. Or vampires. And he suspects that everyone he meets--at night--could be one of them. But he also knows that there are many who have the very same distaste for werewolves. Not that he's about to trail someone in the shadows, break into their home, and make off with their children or other such nonsense. Still, he never seems to get a chance to explain that part. As soon as they hear 'I'm a werewolf' it's 'grab your torch and pitchforks!' Or in this place, grab your gun and silver bullets. Hmph.

So it comes down to a simple question. Does Faolin stay within, where it is safe, and keep them both in the shadows, or does he risk the open night and hope he is more powerful than whatever this other man turns out to be? There are many things older and more powerful than himself. Much older. The other, he finds--the power--seems to increase as the age does. The man seems young enough, but...well...few would look at him and think 'well, he seems nice enough, but something about him says he turns into a great wolf whenever he feels like it. Yep, that one's a were alright.'

At any rate, it's not an easy call for someone as uptight--I mean careful--as Connell. So he does what any sensible wolf would do. He stalls. Genius. But it's yet another risk.

"I am Faolin, by the way. From...well....far away." Yeah, and everyone in this town speaks with an Irish accent. And we'll not forget the whole wolf thing. He's from far away alright. A few species away. "Connell." He offers his hand to shake, all the while watching with those keen, dark eyes, for any flicker of movement, any hint of a thought, any indication of a notion. Any musing or wondering or 'say....' could mean his death. There's power in a name, and any sort of unknown magic could be at work, or come to be at work...but perhaps if he does not reveal the name of his clan, the Ruadh, he will be safe. 'Connell' holds far less meaning for him; he is a wolf first, and a man second. Unless someone asks, and then he's a man and only that. Wolf? What wolf? (*Sweat*)

(Eep! Long wait sorry! I was at the Oni-Con!)

She sighed, rather irritated that cat-ears weren't getting much attention from Faolin, as he had called himself. She'd go over to talk to them in a minute but first she was going to really going to give them both a good look over and put some things together. ~Alrighty then,~ She thought. ~They are both definitly weird. I still don't know if there are other magical beings so maybe this is my chance to find out. Now the younger one drew some attention from Mr. Faolin over there but what did her do to get it?~

Tia mulled over what he did in her mind. ~He opened the door...Nothing special about that...He looked around --everybody does that here. Something happened when he looked at Mr. Faolin. His eyes lit up like he'd seen him before, but that can't be right! They introduced themselves like they'd never even glanced at each other before! What happened between the time that he looked at Faolin and sat down? He smiled. What happened with his smile?~ She did an instant flashback in her mind and saw Erick's charming smile and BOOM! there it was. His fangs glinted at her in her mind and she cursed her brain for not seeing them. A vampire! He! They're! Vampires? Cool! So now off I am to go and talk to two of the weirdest people I've ever seen!~

Cracking her knuckles and neck Tia pushed herself off the barstool and sauntered over to where Erick and Faolin were sitting. She drew up a stool next to Faolin and beamed at them both in a disamingly young-looking smile. "'Ello boys!" She said happily. "Nice night eh?" ~Nice night for a bite... She added inside her head. "And jus' what are two strappin' young men such as youselves doin' in a club? Tryin' to pick up girls?" Her Cockney accent sounded a bit out of place in the club but she ignored that. It sounded out of place everywhere in the whole bloody US of A.