Byron strolled clumsily out of the theatre and stood out on the front walk. He stretched, a long stretch. He had just spent nearly two hours watching an awful horror film, just barely keeping him awake. The only reason he had any desire to see it in theatres was because he heard that an old colleague of his had written it. Gary was his name. Poor Gary, what a horrible scriptwriter he was. Lucky for him, daddy and mommy were in the business as well and could give him all the money he needed to make films. Byron wasn't as lucky. But then again, luck had nothing to do with it. He had talent, real talent. And it was better than any luck or money some Gary guy could get.

Nardo stood with a grim look on his face, leaning against the front of the theatre. He was waiting for someone, a pretty redhead who he had lent money to and was more than just a little late paying him back. He would've had her killed, but she was a sweetheart, a real doll. She deserved a second chance, so, a little impatiently, Nardo waited for her outside the theatre. Appearently she was getting off work and meeting him there at 10.

Byron turned his head to see Nardo standing there, a stocky italian mortal holding a cigar, its amber burning bright in the shadows. The man didn't look as if he was in the mood to chat, but Byron had always been an overally friendly and persistant character, so he spoke.
"Have you seen that one, there?" he asked Nardo, pointing to the poster on the side of the theatre wall.

Nardo raised an eyebrow, flicking the ashes off the end of his cigar.
"Yeah, actually I have." he replied.
"What'd you think?" Byron asked him quickly, sounding as if he was sincerely interested in Nardo's opinion.
"Didn't suck." Nardo told him plainly.
"Ugh.." Byron breathed, disagreeing. "Horrible script."
Nardo cleared his throat, his eyes narrowing. Could this stranger be insulting his taste? "Who are you to say?" Nardo demanded. Everyone's a critic.
"Well," Byron began with a touch of arrogance. "I went to school with the writer, if you can call him that. I'm a writer, Fang Fever? Heard of it? That's mine. Well among other things, but thats my most well-known work."

Suddenly something snapped in Nardo's head. Fang Fever? That was Charlotte's movie, the one she starred in. She had told him all about it. At that very moment, Nardo knew exactly who this guy was. And in another moment, he was going to make him regret ever leaving his house this morning.

Nardo stepped in very close to Byron and faked his most polite and happy voice as possible. "You're Byron Hobbs?"
"Why, yes! Have you---"
Interrupting his reply, was the loud thud of Nardo's fist against the side of his head. Before even realizing what was going on or what had just happened, Byron was on the ground being repeatedly pummeled by Nardo's boot. "This is for her!" he heard the man yelling from above him. "For Charlotte!"

As Byron lay curdled up on the pavement while still being beaten by the man, he coughed up and spit out a mess of black blood and thought, karma.

As the fellow laid his hand on her knee, caressing it with his thumb, Lunette felt her skin begin to crawl. Earlier, she had found this man quite pleasant and attractive, but after realizing how presumptuous he really was, she grew quite repulsed by him, and began to tremble at his touch. She smiled as she thought this gesture would surely clue him into the fact that his hand was unwelcome at its current location, but was indeed wrong.

“Are you cold, baby? You’re shivering. Here…” he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pulling her tight against his chest. He reeked of cheap cologne, and as the pungent smell filled her nostrils, she grew nauseous.

“This movie makes me sick.” With one hand, she covered her mouth, and with the other she held her stomach; she hope he’d fall for this charade. “I’m going to the bathroom…I’ll be right back.” But of course, she wouldn’t be back.

Before staggering clumsily into the aisle, she grabbed her coat; he’d have to know she had no intentions of returning now, after all, who needs their coat to vomit? When she made it into the lobby, she noticed a few young punks harassing the young girl working behind to counter serving popcorn. Feeling a little on the meddling side, she made her way over to the boys and convinced them to leave the girl alone, and bummed herself a cigarette while she was at it.

She continued on outside, stopping just outside entrance doors as she reached in her coat pocket for her matches. After lighting the cigarette, she brought it to her lips, closing her eyes and raising her chest dramatically as the cloud of smoke filled her lungs. Opening her eyes again, she admired her little death stick; noticing the bright red ring of lipstick around the filter, she wondered if she looked as sexy as all of those old Hollywood starlets with their lips around one of these.

How she hadn’t noticed the man being beaten in front of the theatre sooner she didn’t know, but now she couldn’t take her eyes off the scene. At first, her mind raced with all the reasons as to why he was being beaten. Perhaps he deserved it? But then again, she had always believed that you were never supposed to kick a man while he’s down. And she usually rooted for the underdog anyway…besides, after helping that girl earlier, she kind of felt obligated to continue playing “hero”. So after taking one last drag, she flicked her burning cigarette into the man giving the beating’s hair.

“Oops.”

Still in the process of brutally booting Byron in the stomach and ribs, Nardo felt a hot sensation at the back of his head. Maybe it's fury, he thought, that wonderful feeling one gets when unleashing years of pent up anger. No, fury doesn't usually smell like burning hair.
The kicking subsided.
With one swift movement, he put his hand up over his head and brushed the cigarette out of his hair. Not long after, he spun around to face the one who did this. A girl, pretty at that. Surprising. Regardless, she had made her first step to his bad side.

"Now, why would you go and do a thing like that?" Nardo asked her. His voice was calm but stern, and he stared at her with his shoulders shrugged waiting for an answer.

In the meantime, Byron had lifted himself up and was now sitting, leaning against the wall. He stared up the girl through sore eyes, and somehow a grin formed on his mangled face. Too bad his usually quite attractive face now looked as if it had been through a meat-grinder, or else he may have tried to make a pass at her. Even at an inappropriate time like this.
He looked back to Nardo. "So..you're.."

"Nardo." he barked before Byron could finish his sentense.

Byron nodded, as if he should've been expecting this incident. "Charlotte mailed me. She told me about you."

"And you never mailed her back...am I right?" Nardo sneered. "Broke her little heart, poor dame."

With that, Nardo gave him another hard slug to the side of the head. Byron almost seemed resistant to that last one, and right after staggered up to his feet, blood trickling from his mouth, nose, and now his head. He turned to the girl who had made an attempt at helping him.

"Thanks doll, but you'd be safe to run along. This guy's trouble, and you don't want this kind of trouble, trust me." Byron told her with that crooked grin still plastered across his face, speaking as if he had known Nardo for years. Which, indirectly, he had.

Nardo lifted a large blood-spattered hand at the girl and pointed to her firmly. "No. Don't move."

Andriette walked by the theatre, her hair long and loose. She watched the attack for a second, then walked up to the italian man.
She surveyed the scene for vampires, making sure this guy didn't have a friend in the shadows. She stepped into the scuffle, and looked at Bernard,"What seems to be the problem?"
Andriette's eyes shined in the theatre lights, she let her vampire powers flow through her,bulking herself up and sending a kind of warning to anything around her.

When the name of a woman had been uttered, Lunette rolled her eyes, and let out a soft chuckle, delivered with a slight mocking tone. All this trouble over a woman? she thought to herself.

When one, like Lunette, struggles with distinguishing the difference between reality and illusion, one tends to grow to take life a lot more fearlessly. For all she knew, these two men were just harmless figments of her imagination; after all, one of them did seem to be giving off some sort of inhuman aura. So, seeing as how she had never had any really malevolent hallucinations before, she felt that she had no reason to fear these two. On the other hand, if they were indeed real…well, she didn’t want to think about that. Regardless, she decided that it was only appropriate to try to help out a struggling stranger, real or not.

“Listen, honey,” she spoke with such audacity towards Byron that she even surprised herself. “…this isn’t guy’s trouble you’re in, its woman’s—the most pathetic, but still dangerous kind. And by the looks of it, you won’t be the one comin’ out on top…”

With a careless air about her, she strolled right up to Bernard and placed her tiny, delicate hand over his blood stained one, gently guiding it from its rude pointing position, back to his side. It wasn’t until she peered into those cruel eyes of his that her senses finally kicked in. When she looked back over at Byron’s face, or rather the grisly mess in its place, the reality of the situation became relevant—her prying would probably earn her that same face.

“Nardo was it?” as she spoke, her voice began to grow a little uncertain and shaky, yet she tried to continue, faking her confidence. “This little Charlotte of yours must be quite the catch…but I assure you, she’s not worth you bruisin’ your little hand over. Now, why don’t you run along, and allow me to fix up your friend here?”

Sensing that she wasn’t intimidating Nardo the slightest, she decided it best to create some distance between them. Just as she was stepping back away from Nardo, she felt that unearthly presence around her again, followed by the voice of a woman. When she turned, she saw Andriette approaching; could this be the Charlotte these boys are fighting over? She is attractive enough I suppose…

Nardo's persed his lips, forming an impressed smile, and he nodded his head once up and down. He admired her bravery. 'Little hand', how precious. Considering he had the hands of a bear. "Real cute," he told her with a smirk. "But it ain't what you think, Charlotte and I. She's a friend. And this fucker here," he continued shifting his eyes to Byron, his voice hardening. "..is fortunate that this is all that happened to him...for now. I'm not the only one out to get him in this stinkin' city."

Byron blinked. "Yeah..." he admited, although he still didn't feel much sympathy for Charlotte. "So can I go now?" He didn't seem too upset about the whole ordeal, if even effected by it at all.

Nardo shot him the dirtiest of looks. "I don't wanna see you around here again. I'm not gonna tell Charlotte I saw you, or that you're living in Demaitre. It would kill her to know that." He took a step in closer to him. "Is that clear?"

"..as a bell." Byron breathed, stepping back.

The new girl approaching caught his eye. "Its okay, my dear." Byron assured her. "Its all over with." he added, uncertain.

"No, nobody move yet, wait." Nardo demanded, holding his hands to his temples in thought. As he grew older, his paranoia became worse and worse, and he was constantly fearing the cops and any witnesses who could testify against him. He would have paid the girls off, as he often would do, but he had close to no money on him. So he thought of the next best thing. "Drinks." he said. "Lets all go out for drinks, on me."

"What?" Byron groaned, his voice now filled with arrogance.

"Shut up." Nardo snapped back. Suddenly, his face lightened up...he forced it to. "Comon, all of us. To....bury the hatchet? At least temporarily. It's on me."

Drinks. Just the thought of alcohol passing over her tongue caused her to feel that dizzying lightheadedness experienced while intoxicated. Of course she had never turned down a free drink, but as she eyed Nardo suspiciously, something in her gut told her he was untrustworthy.

“And why should we trust you?” gesturing towards Byron, reminding him Nardo that the beating he had just given Byron wasn’t the most inviting first impression ever.

Before she made up her mind, she turned toward Byron with a questioning look upon her face, as if her response depended on whether or not he was going.

{OOC:...wow...sorry it's short...I'm kind of having a brain fart...}

Byron's eyes met with the girl's, and he shrugged. Before he could answer, Nardo spoke.

"You shouldn't." he said plainly. "..Trust me, that is. I don't like any of you, yeah, that's right." His head shot over to the newest member of the crowd, the girl that had just approached. "I don't even know you, and I already don't like you!" He laughed out loud, and somehow, his laugh ended with a very sincerely friendly tone. "I just don't like leaving things like this." he lied. Really, he didn't care much. He was just watching out for his own neck. "I'm well-known..even well-liked, believe it or not. Wouldn't wanna ruin that, hmm?"

Byron nodded to both of the girls. "Well, it may be a little awkward, but I think he's had his kicks for the night...quite literally." Byron paused. Why did he say that? It wasn't even funny. He continued. "Should be safe. Although theres no way I'm going alone."

"I wasn't asking for a one-on-one date." Nardo told him, his voice regaining its forciveness. "Comon." he insisted, again, shifting back and forth. "What d'ya say?"

Andriette looked at him and a small smile crossed her lips, she started speaking in italian," I belive I'll say yes. Though I can't say I care for you much either." Andriette patted him on the cheek." Where are we going? And I hope you don't expect me to buy my own drinks." Andriette turned and walked towards the main barstrip in town. She turned "Coming?"

Go! The familiar voice urging her to take up the offer echoed throughout her mind. But don’t drink the red stuff… As the voice trailed off into some hollow recess of the insane part of her brain, it seemed to fade away with a sort of hissing laugh. Seeing as how the voices she heard never stirred her wrong, she chose to accompany the trio, making a mental note to avoid any red liquid she came across that evening.

“Well…I hope you don’t plan on going out looking like that.” As she took a step closer towards Byron, she ran the tip of her finger along the corners of his mouth, and then held the bloody finger before his eyes. “I don’t know a single bar in town that would allow you inside looking like this. Here…”

With the coat that she had draped over her arm, she began wiping away the fresh blood oozing from the wounds on his face. Don’t drink the red stuff… rang throughout her ears once again; she shook her head as if the clear her mind of some gruesome image For whatever reason, she had always loved the sight of blood…but something seemed strange about his cuts. Were they already beginning to heal? The blood seemed to be caking rather quickly. And his skin…it felt so unusually cold…Stop it Lunette, be sane for a night…there’s nothing that unusual about this situation…only see what’s really there…

“Now, I’m sure you were aching for some alone time with that lovable old teddy bear over there…” teasingly, she winked over at Nardo. “But it looks like you’re stuck with me and…” once again she shifted her gaze towards the woman who seemed to appear out of nowhere. “What did you say your name was, hun?”

{OOC: Perhaps I jumped to conclusions…but I assumed Byron would heal quicker and have colder skin…being a vampire and all…hope that was alright!}

Andriette turned and waited for the others, "My name is Andriette, you may call me Andriette." She tapped her foot impatiently,"There is a bar waiting..." and humans too...

((ooc: Sorry guys, its been a busy weekend. I'll post a nice long post either tomorrow night or monday for sure. I just don't wanna do a rushjob on my way out and give you a half-assed post hehe ;) ))

((ooc: Yes, that’s fine Lunette. I hadn’t really given it much thought, but I have no problem with his wounds healing and his skin being cold, as most vampires are. :) ))

Byron remained motionless, grinning as Lunette whipped the blood from his lip with her finger. He noticed her reaching for her sweater and his lips parted, ready to tell her not to ruin it on his blood-soaked face. But before he could speak a word, she was already cleaning his wounds. A moment later, her expression changed, only slightly…and he wondered if something about him had thrown her off. He couldn’t have blamed her, but regardless, he grinned politely, in an attempt to restore in her that confident expression that he found quite attractive.

Nardo stood watching the three, and soon realized that at some point during these interactions, he had lost his cigar. Cocking his head to one side, he pulled out another from his suit pocket and lit it up with a match. He sucked on it. “I know just the place.” With every word, gray smoke rose from his lips.

((ooc: I’m starting a new post in City in General right in the bar [so we can skip walking there] considering we won’t be at the theatre anymore. See you there :) ))