A young faery sat on the end of the counter, his dark hazel eyes roving around the room in search of possible mischief. He was less than a foot tall, and, at the moment, hidden by an invisibility glamour. If anyone had seen him, he'd probably have been kicked out of there quicker than blinking. He barely looked fifteen, let alone the required age of nineteen. Actually, he was somewhere near one hundred years old. But, Wick being as immature as he was, his real age couldn't excuse any bad behavior he might exhibit.

Dressed in dull colored clothes that were so worn they looked like they'd been chewed, Wick hardly fit the club's normal dress standards. His ginger hair was dishevelled and falling all over the place, including over his pointed ears. There were several tin earrings dangling from his ears, making a soft clinking sound if he moved. Also, poking through his messy hair was a pair of stubby horns, one of them chipped off.

He'd never been in a club before. Tonight, he'd felt like trying something new, and so he'd headed all the way out here to find some trouble he could get himself into.
He had the feeling he wasn't going to have to look for it for much longer. Trouble had a way of finding him.

Coyote leaned against the bar, a glass of something or other sitting next to his elbow. He smirked slightly as he cast a look around the room and caught a few women staring at him. Not that he could blame them.

He was of his usual appearance, meaning positively studly, dressed in tight black designer jeans, black Doc Martens, a stretchy sort of red T-Shirt with the words 'I Used to Have Superpowers, But My Therapist Took Them Away' on it, and a great many spiked items on him like his belt, his bracelet, and his collar. Of course, his face was made up to. His oval black eyes were lined thickly with black kohl, his many facial peircings all occupied by silver studs. Studs were also in his ears, six on each side, and he twirled a few idly with his long and manicured fingers.

Of course, the vampire was not really here to party. Well, okay, maybe a little bit to party, but mostly he was searching for a victim. And there were plenty of unwitting voluteers, flirting and giggling and batting their eyelashes in his direction. And not all of them were female....

(sorry that took so long, I had to re-type it because I accidentally deleted it the first time)

Coyote's appearance caused Wick to target him right away. He looked ... unusual. Therefore new. And new meant, "fun". Wick smirked nastily, spying the vampire's drink. Didn't he know he shouldn't leave his drink unattended? Well, technically, it wasn't unattended because it was within his grasp. But when there's an invisible half-a-foot tall faery running around, nothing is safe.

Made overconfident by his invisibility, Wick ambled along the bar and peered into the vampire's glass. That was when he noticed the full ashtray, sitting conveniently near.

Perfect.

Wick picked up a half-smoked, still smoldering cigarette from the tray, forgetting the fact that, though he could walk around unseen, the cigarette was still visible. He walked over to the glass, and leaned over to drop the ash-coated cigarette into whatever liquid Coyote was drinking.

Spying the cigarette out of the corner of his eye, Coyote made sure not to turn his head. Instead, he tried his best to figure out why the hell a cigarette, something that normally had no buisness hanging unattended in the air, was doing so.

Simple. Because someone was holding it there.

Now, Coyote's vampire senses were not overly keen, but they were keen enough to tell him that something or someone was physically keeping the thing in the air.

And putting it into his drink.

Then, Coyote's smile widened a little. Whatever or whoever it was seemed to have singled him out for a prank. Well, the Aztec was not about to drink out of his glass now, but he did turn a little, pick up the drink, and then raise it slowly to his mouth (while looking the other way so that it appeared he would take a swig). However, before he could do so, Coyote pretended as though he'd seen something and quickly turned his head, setting down the glass.

"Aaah, c'mon," Wick mumbled, irritated beyond belief at his victim's antics. If he hadn't known better, he'd have thought he was being taunted. But of course he couldn't have been seen. He was invisible, correct? So this must be nothing more than a little delay before the prank played out.

The young faery kicked the glass. Not hard. But loud enough to make a sound that would draw the vampire's attention back to the drink.

Coyote grinned as he heard the faery mutter, and then he fully turned his head back to the drink. But then he looked up, not directly at Wick since he couldn't quite pinpoint were the man was, but in the general area of his face.

"No, I don't think I will. I don't smoke."

The bartender looked at him strangely and edged away, as though Coyote were insane and his madness might be contagious(sp?). Of course, he was talking to the air above his beer, so one would think he was either crazy or just drunk off his ass...

"Oh hell," the faery hissed, upon seeing Coyote's gaze fix on him - his general area, anyway. It made him a little angry, to have been caught. Usually he would have been frightened, but this person seemed so benign that Wick didn't feel threatened at all.

In fact, it made Wick want to make him angry. More for the sake of getting a reaction, than anything else. So the faery stepped forwards and gave the glass a shove, knocking it over. The beer (along with its garnish of cigarette and ashes) poured over the side of the counter, onto Coyote's lap. Onto his designer jeans.

"Ha," Wick said triumphantly.

"Oh crap!" Coyote said, practically jumping out of the chair and attempting to remove the cigarette before any of the ashes got ground into the denim. Fortunately, the pants were not ruined, but now there was a large wet spot on his lap, he smelled like alchohol, plus the fact that he look like a complete clutz, spilling his drink all over himself. Scowling, he turned back to the little man, listening and smelling to detect where he was. "What was that for?! Do you know how much these pants cost?"

Seeing as Wick had little to no maturity in him, he could hardly be described as a man. Didn't look like one, didn't act like one - certainly didn't think he was one. And right now, he was doing a fine job of demonstrating it. He started giggling uncontrollably - maybe it had something to do with the fumes coming off the small puddle of beer that had remained on the counter. If he wasn't so wonderfully dizzy, Wick would have been scared by Coyote's fury.

"'Cos it's funny. And - don't know, don't care," he sing-songed, walking sideways into the puddle of beer. When he stepped out of it, his boots left little wet footprints on the countertop. He didn't notice. He was enjoying himself too much.

Growling slightly, Coyote easily spotted were Wick was, by both the giggling, the drunken speach, and the little footprints on the counter.

"Okay, twinkie, you are coming with me."

Snatching the faery around the waist, Coyote stood and walked into a quieter and more private section of the club with many tables and boothes. Sitting down at a booth, the vampire set the tipsy faery on the tabletop and glared. This really didn't do much to help the situation, but at least he wouldn't get stared at over here for conversing with air.

Wick, out of his weird kind of politeness, erased the invisibility glamour and smirked stupidly at Coyote. "The name's Wicked. Not twinkie. I'm not a bloody twinkie, whate'er that's s'posed to mean," he protested. Removed from the alcohol fumes, he wasn't feeling so lightheaded anymore. Nor quite so brave.

"...Was a good joke, don't you think?" he said apologetically.

Examining the faery for the first time, Coyote raised an eyebrow, anger temporarily dampened by humor.

"I dunno. You look a little like a twinkie to me..." Then, he grinned. "Wicked? Is that really your name?"

The Aztec had never really seen a faery before, only heard about them and about some of the more dangerous pranks they'd pulled in the past. Secretly, Coyote counted himself lucky that wet pants was the most this particular faery had thought up for him. And so, simply to show that he meant the twinkie comment as a mere joke, his smile became less impish and more friendly.

"'Course that's my name. But most people just call me Wick," he said, grinning back at Coyote, now reassured that he wasn't going to be swatted or crushed in the near future. Wick toyed absently with one of his earrings, and then asked, "What name d'you go by?"

He wasn't sure what to make of Coyote. He didn't seem human, or fae, and was obviously innish. Or else very drunk. In any case, Wick had mentally deemed him "okay". For now.

Coyote laughed. "Well, depends on who you ask. I go by a human name, Drake Gessler. A few friends actually call me by my real name, which is Nezahualcoyotl." He pronounced the name with a flourish. "But you can and probably should call me Coyote."

Coyote found this entire situation odd, simply because it was not every day that one met a thinking, speaking, walking thing less than a foot tall at a bar whilst trying to pick up a victim.

(Must sleep now, but I'll be on..... sometime tomorrow.)

Wick tried to pronounce the Aztec name, but it came out a slurred, wobbly, and entirely unintelligible mass of syllables. Then he laughed. "Okay. Coyote it is. Nice to meetcha, Coyote. When did you notice that I was there? Before or after I put the cigarette in your drink?" Wick gestured towards the bar.

(Ok, seeya then.)

"Uh, during said cigarette was being put in my drink. It's not common for a cigarette to commit suicide by tossing itself in someone's beverage.... unless I am really out of the loop...." He began to spin his earrings idly again, a habit that he'd developed over time.

"Ahh, shoot," Wick snapped his fingers, frowning. "Of course you'd have seen it. Forgot to hide it. Well, guess I'll hafta remember it for next time. Tie a string around my finger 'r someting."

Wick slid over to the edge of the table and hung his legs over the side, swinging them lazily back and forth. "... You know, this is my first time here," he said matter-of-factly.

"Is that so? Got tired of putting stuff in innocent people's drinks at the other clubs?" Coyote replied, only half joking. His pants were making his legs cold and a little clammy, and he put his palms on the coldest parts to try to warm them.

"Heh. No. Never been in a club before, at all," Wick shook his head, grinning. "I don't throw stuff in people's drinks... much. 'S easy to get caught, anywhere else But this place is so busy, that you'd think no one would notice."

Of course, obviously Coyote had noticed. But Wick was hoping that was just a fluke, because he hadn't thought to vanish the cigarette before he dropped it in the glass.

"Oh, that's comforting..." Coyote replied sarcastically, hearing the added 'much'. "Well, in any case, er.... nice to meet you as well. The question is, what now? Someone is eventuall going to see me talking to a faery, at which point they will probably either faint or something a bit more conspicuous...."

"Perhaps," Wick said gleefully. His whole face lit up in an eager grin. "That'd be funny... well, only the fainting, I mean. As long as no one starts throwing stuff or tries to squash me, then it's funny."

He looked around. For some reason, people liked to squish small things. Or catch them in traps - like mice, for example. He'd seen it happen to mice before. Getting caught was not high on his to-do list.

"But maybe, just to be safe..." he frowned, and deftly wove a spell over himself. "There now. Only you can see me. That should do it."

Coyote blinked. "Well, isn't that... useful." He then paused and the first part of the faery's sentance sunk in. "Wait- People have tried to squish you before?"

He found this.... a little disturbing. Coyote didn't want cockaroach gunk on his shoes, much less faery gunk. He couldn't imagine somebody trying to flatten Wick.

Well, maybe he could.

A large grin curled the corners of his mouth as he thought up an image of someone chasing Wick around with a giant flyswatter.

"Sure," Wick nodded emphatically. "A dozen times. Mostly, it's been people who go all 'I'm seeing things, make it go away' and then they try to step on me. Other times they throw heavy things. Well, not heavy to you. But people do worse things 'n try to squash me."

He shrugged, eyes roving around the room with a distant look to them. "But if they don't see me, they can't get me. Mostly."

Coyote managed to control his grin and instead put on an empathetic expression. "That's awful. I'm glad I'm only a vampire..."

"You're a vampire?"

The boy's eyes widened. His expression was a mixture of surprise, and maybe a hint of fear. Sure, a vampire wouldn't waste his time drinking the blood of a seven-inch tall faery. Wick had never met a vampire before. He wasn't all that afraid.... But he had heard that vampires were prone to random acts of cruelty.

Nahhh, Wick told himself. He'd have gotten me already if he wanted to.

"Yup. Been one for aproximately four hundred years." Coyote said, smiling widely.

'Course, Coyote used to be a violent person, being a high priest of the Aztec God of War and the one responsible for the removal of a staggering amount of human hearts tends to do that. But over the years, his great devotion in his god had been forced to be toned-down, and now he only prayed and burned insense (with the occasional sacrificial slaughtering of a goat or sheep or whatever he could get his hands on...)

"Four hundred...? That's more'n four times my age," Wick said, blinking innocently up at him. "What's it like, being that old...?"

He didn't mean 'old' as in, 'you're an old geezer'. He was honestly curious.

Coyote looked suprised. He had never been asked that question before, and he had little idea on how to answer it. "It's strange..." He said slowly. "Cool, but strange. It's hard to make friends, or fall in love. With humans anyway. But it's also very enlightening. I'm more intelligent that I could have possibly been without becoming a vampire. More... learned, I guess." He looked a little confused.

"Learned. Funny. I never thought about doing anything like that. I guess what I mean is, d'you still have fun?" Wick asked. "You aren't bored or anything?"

Wick sometimes found it difficult to think that, someday, he might stop having fun. That his tricks might no longer amuse him as they did now. But then he would do something silly that would make people scream or curse, and he would forget he'd ever even thought it.

"Oh hell no. Stuff is always changing, even in just the past hundred years. There is always something new to do, somewhere new to go, someone new to meet. I'm almost never bored, Especially with my job..."

"Ah, good. Hope I can be four hundred someday." Wick smirked. Then he wrinkled his nose. "What d'you need a job for?" He clearly disliked the thought of work. He'd never had a job himself, but he heard people complaining about them all the time. How they hated the people they worked with, how long it took them, how stressful it was. It didn't sound like a good thing to get into.

"To put a bit more action into my life. I'm already pretty rich, but sometimes I need something to challenge me. You see, I work for E.G.O."

"E.G.O.?" Wick frowned, tilting his head to one side. "What's that? Some kind of big business or something?"
He really didn't see how having a job would put more action into anyone's life. Weren't jobs supposed to be boring things, not exciting ones?

Hah. Clueless little faery.

Coyote snorted, very much going against his suave exterior. "Uh, not quite. I'm sure you know about the police, right? Well, the E.G.O. is the police department.... for the Innish. I make sure that nobody goes exposing our existance to people who shouldn't know, a.k.a, mst people. It's very face-paced. And dangerous, depending on what exactly you do."

"Oh." Wick said simply. "Yeah. I know what police are."
He fought to keep a straight face. "What if,... what if someone finds out from you, but you did it by an accident? Are you still in trouble...?"
He really hoped not.

Coyote narrowed his eyes. "It would depend how it happened.... why?" He said slowly, suspiciously.

"Oh, just asking," Wick said, his voice taking on a sing-songy tone. He looked up at Coyote innocently - but not convincingly so. "No reason."

"Uh-Huh." Coyote said, not believing it for a second. "Spill it, Wick. What did you do?"

"I didn't do it on purpose. An' it happened ages ago,.. well, months, anyway," he said defensively, deliberately trying to delay in case it turned out he was in trouble for this. "And I didn't do anything really bad or anything... plus it wasn't my fault..."

He began sneaking closer to the edge of the table, locking his fingers together in preparation to form a vanishing spell in case he needed to make one really quickly. Surely he couldn't be in trouble for something that wasn't even his fault...?

"Out with it already." Coyote said, raising an eyebrow.