Ahh, Monet. It certainly cannot be an original.

The thick black brows above the cold blue eyes pursed, as the fingers of his hands reached to touch the canvas beneath the frame. There was a guard behind him, he knew, for he could hear the blood pulsing and for the mere fact that he was one of the few visiters left at this time of night.

To his dismay, the canvas was textureless, a print. He said these words, "A print," and stepped away to admire it anyway. He had always loved art, sculptures especially, but had no artistic incline at all, save for his sweet, low supernatural voice.

He crossed his arms in front of him, his long black wool coat giving him grief, the friction warming his skin even more. It wasn't enough that he had on a sweater beneath that. His ensemble was black and fitted, as always, but always uncomfortable. If he wore too little, he caught a chill. If he wore too much, droplets of blood fell from his scalp. There was never a happy medium.

He took off his coat and folded it over his arm, stuffing his hand in his pocket and moving along to the next display.

(Yes, yes, I know... Crappy opening post, but I'm so excited to have joined. ^_^)

A familiar tap echoed in the hall of the museam as Max strolled past the paintings and artwork, generally he wasn't interested in paintings, yet sometimes curiousity dragged him towards a museum, if only to taste and smell the scent with was so typical for a museum.
He stopped before a painting which resembled something so incredible weird that Max blinked his eye, wondering who could every make sucha horrific painting and call it beautiful.
It was night already, of course the only time he could go out and see something, yet it surprised him that the museum seemed deserted, and that there were no mortals at all for his entertainment.

Cole's ears pricked as the sound of footsteps echoed through the halls. He had come hoping to find both some interesting art, which seemed to be lacking, and a meal. The only mortals he had come across so far were the receptionist and the guard at his back.

He crossed his own path, back the way he came, curious to see what he might find around the bend. He wasn't at all a shy person, so, when he stepped out to see who was there, and found now a mortal, but quite the opposite, he was not embarrassed.

He nodded his head in recognition and offered a brief salutation of, "Good day," before he turned back around to shuffle away in disappointment.

"If you are trying to find a meal in me, I must disapoint you, I don't taste that good.." He said with a glance of humor in his eyes as the Vampire before him seemed rather disapointed. "But didnt you sense me coming? That's odd.."
He poked his cane against a canvas painting his eyes narrowing.
"There are all fake aren't they?" He muttered disappointed, "We should kill the fancy receptionist only for letting us pay for this crap.."

Cole stopped himself before he got too far, to hear the words spoken to him. He turned back around to look at the other immortal across the room. "Am I that easy to read?"

He stepped toward the other vampire, an amused look on his face. "No, I didn't sense you," was his reply and nothing more. He didn't like to touch on the fact that he wasn't as in touch with his powers as most. He'd never learned.

"Yes, they are. It's quite disappointing," he said, glancing back at the pictures that he had already past.

He couldn't help but smile at the comment of the receptionist, "She's obviously never been to Venice."

He brought his eyes back to the man in front of him, "I'm Cole." He offered his hand as he pressed on, "Did you come looking for the same? A meal and fine art? I don't think we'll find it here."

"Oh no, you are probably not that easily read, but my thoughts sometimes sneak into others without me knowing so.. Can lead to funny situations.." He shook the hand of the Vampire before him.
"My name is Maximilian Mainor, and well I just came here because occasionally I just like museums, tho this one is crap... I've been to Venice but I never had to urge to go art-watching there.." he said, letting go of the hand. "A meal is always pleasant, sadly enough this museum is rather... empty.. of fine stock.." he sighed disappointed. "Too bad, I like indoor meals better that outdoor meals.."

"It's a pleasure." He fumbled with his coat on his arm as he listened to Max talk. He seemed a friendly man, but past experience had led him to be somewhat mistrusting. He attempted, with what little power he knew he had, to keep these feelings withdrawn, as to not seem overbearing. He much liked to keep to himself.

"I'm not from around here. Know of any other good places of dining?"

"I'm not from around here either." He answered. "I've only been here for about two weeks or so..." He shrugged. "I'm totally new, it's horrible.."
He snuffed dramatically, playfully.
"Oh and I won't bite you, don't worry. By the time that I'll finally be near you, I bet you'll be miles away.." He laughed a bi bitterly and tapped his knee.
"I'm lame, don't think I'm able to run.."

Cole's brows furrowed for a moment, contemplatively. It was a sort of goofy look for him, as if to show he didn't quite understand but it was somehow humorous.

"You've been here longer than I have, I'm afraid. I've only just arrived last night and I haven't had a bite yet."

He stepped closer to the man still and lowered his voice. "What do you say we make a lap around this little gallery, and if nothing else, I get first dibs on that guard looking at us from the doorway and you can have the little lady behind the desk."

"that I have been here longer, doesn't mean I know more, you don't know where I have been.." But he shrugged, hearing the idea of this Vampire before him.
"Good idea, leave the ladies to me, they don't run as fast.." A mischievous grin appeared as max nodded in agreement."You have fun with the guard.."
The soft tapping of the cane slowly died as Max made his way to the desk, where the young lady still sat.
Max took his meal quickly, and the pain was minimum as the girl finally fainted from bloodloss. He left her there, not wanting to kill her. He wasn't has compassionate with older mortals, but the young he could spare, they had a whole life in front of them.
And he thought too much about his victem's family anyway.

Cole left Max to his work, turning back once more toward the guard that still stood in the doorway. Cole adverted his eyes for a moment as he walked toward him, putting his coat back on and freeing his hands. He'd need them; this guard was quite hefty.

He took his time luring the guard away. He entered a room he knew he wasn't supposed to and the guard was quick to follow. Cole ignored him as he called out to him. Once the poor, dumb guard had approached him and grabbed at him to get his attention, he was on him.

He fed quickly, expertly, pulling away just before the heart died. The surprise had given the guard little time to respond, which was quite convenient. Cole hated a fuss.

He left the man in a broom closet, slipping easily from the sight of security cameras. He walked back toward the entrance to the museum, gently patting his lips with a handkerchief.

Max laid the scarf of the young lady beneath her head, making her comfortable on the cold ground. She would wake in a few hours, and be a little dizzy and confused, but no harm would be doen upon her.
He rose to his feet, fetching his cane, and went of for the exit, being caught while trying to murder someone would end ina fight, which the mortals would loose with ease.
He wondered where the oter Vampire could be, and wondered whether the guard had caused himt rouble or not.

Cole wasn't too far behind. He smiled softly as he entered the room, noticing the young girl asleep on the floor. He could still hear her heart beating softly in her delicate breast. "You're letting her live?"

Personally, he had never let any of his victims live. In his opinion, if anyone were to know if an immortal, they should be put to rest, for the thought out only drive them out of their mind.

"She's very young," he whispered. And beautiful. He didn't blame Max for sparing her. He turned his eyes away and stepped past the receptionist desk. "Where are you staying?"

"She will not remember anything." Max said. "And yes, she is young. One should not end such a life easily, she has a whole life to live. She will wakw up, and the doctors will simply come up with a story, and she will go on with life, forgetting all about what has happened. As it should be.."
He took his gloves from his pockets, studying them for a moment before he said.
"Well, this was most certainly a boring museum, I bet the Yesterday's Man has some entertainment.... The only place I know which holds some cosyness."

Aislinn fumbled with the heavy, framed canvas as she worked it out of the back of her car. It had certainly been a better peace than what they usually sent her, but restoring was always a royal pain in the ass. Poor Erlina had been griping every bit as much as Aislinn had. But, luckily, the three year old had finally nodded off a couple of hours ago, and with their neighbor willing to watch her for a while, Aislinn had stolen away the chance to get the painting out to the museum and finally get paid for the work, Lord knew, after this Christmas she needed the money the make ends meet.

It was her one major failing, she never could stand the way Erlina looked when she told her ‘no.’

She chuckled at the thought of her baby girl, pouting like there was no tomorrow. It never seemed to work when it came to getting things unless she was pouting because mommy just didn’t have the time to play… those days damn near broke her heart every time.

She sighed, shook her head, and pushed her shoulder against one of the broad, heavy doors until she stumbled into the museum. Aislinn regained her balance, tucked a stray strand of mousy brown hair behind her ear, and let her slate grey eyes make a quick sweep of the entrance. She had told that Receptionist she would be here… the older one, Marge, or May, or… hell, it could be someone named Mars for all she knew.

She sighed, and leaned the 17th-century-Santi-di-Tito-remake against he nearest wall; leaving the heavy brown cloth over it for the sake of not scratching the walls. The simple Baroque peace, Madonna and Child, was maybe a softer tone of Tito, but it had proven to be one of the hardest restoring-work she had done recently.

“Damnit, where is she?” Aislinn yanked off the colorful scarf that kept her long, plain hair out of her eyes and began to nervously twist it in her hands. Again she scanned the area with her eyes, and this time she caught a glimpse of a pair of men heading her way from around the corner back where one of the reception desks where.

Her fidgeting only got worse.

“Juse, don’t let them be the ones I have to put up with, the crackly old woman was fine, really. I didn’t mean it when I said she was unbearable.” She sighed, the vain little prayer was useless, a black sort of foreboding was already settling on her shoulders.

"Is there something the matter?" a voice with an undefined accent said behind her, making her turn around.
"You look rather... tense, if that is the correct word, my english was never that good.." Behind her stood a man of reasonable lenght, with dirtyblonde hair, his grey eyes were friendly, and he was casually dressed.
Yet he was also incredibly pale, compared to the woman standing before him.
"My name is Johan Friso, can I help you with something?"

Aislinn jumped so badly she was certain she’d sprung a good five feet into the air as she turned to face the source of the voice. She stared wide eyed at him as he spoke, and then continued staring long after he’d stopped. She was watching him, studying him for signs of aggression so diligently that it took her a while to realize his lips had stopped moving.

“Oh, um,” she faltered, motioning vaguely to the painting she was delivering. “Where, uh, that is to say… who am I supposed to be meeting about this panting, I’ve been put off three times all ready and I am tired off being shuffled into the back of the deck like an unwanted ace.” She was making the general assumption that he worked here, and she knew that making assumptions always made an ass out of You and Upmtion, but she was angry.

Angry women… well, lets just say commonsense doesn’t always reach high levels.

"Well, that is not something I can help." He smiled apologetically. "I don't work here."
He looked towards the entrance, seeing peoply scurry around, as if they were looking for someone or something.
"Something has happened, unless you haven't seen the police run around in the halls. A man is found dead in one of the many Art Halls, and the lady behind the desk is found unconscious." Johan Friso kept smiling, his grey eyes still friendly. "I just know, don't ask, if you wish trouble or delay enter that museum, and the police will be more than happy to ask you a few questions after what you have said to me. Perhaps you can avoid the fuss if you just get into your car and ride away without one noticing it..."
His eyes hadn't left hers, and he seemed to study her for a moment, as if he was trying to find something ut.
"You're pick.."

Aislinn’s face fell in dismay. She had been so eager to find someone to lash out at that she had completely ignored anything about her surroundings. It was a little bit of a shock. Had she been but thirty, twenty, maybe even just minutes later… could she have ended up dead as well?

Aislinn shuddered at the thought and began to shy away from the steps. But then, a thought stopped her. If the police found out that she was supposed to have been there, that had she shown up right on time she may have been there at the same time as the killer… they could end up expecting her.

On the other hand, their would be no fingerprints, or blood, skin, or hair samples to lift from the victims that would incriminate her. Was she just blowing things out of proportion? It wasn’t like she knew these people, or the museum owners, she only did a bit of work now and then for them. But did she really need an investigation into her home based business?

That couldn’t be good for work. But that wasn’t a moral choice at all, that was selfish! And then, what about Erlina? If the business got bad they would have to move again. This city was a good place for them, they shouldn’t be forced to move because of bad business.

It was moral to make a choice base on Erlina, just a different kind of moral.

“I think you’re right.” Her dull eyes swung back to Johan, her choice made. But then, her brow furrowed in thought before fear slowly began to build behind her eyes. Aislinn took half a step away before her spine went rigid and her chin lifted a notch into the air. “Are you the one that killed him, is that why you’re snooping around?”