A little puff... A little stream of smoke... The pain seemed to go away, dulling his mind a little at a time.

Well, the beer helped to really.

With his hair pulled back, his face slightly scruffy, Toby fit in with the crowd that was gathered at the Tequila for the night in apperance. But the way he hung back, the way he sat by himself, puffing away at the not quite cigarette and sipping at his not quite cold beer.

He thought that on his night off a little fun and relaxation would do him some good. Would put him in a better mood and shake off the crushing depression that felt like it was suffocating him.

He needed this though. To be out and about among people and smoozing and having a good time. Get his mind off the beast ratteling the cage in his mind.

He had thought that the loud music, the drinks and the smoke would help out. Would subdue the beast and keep it quiet at least for the time being. But so far things weren't going as planned. Would company help? Or would having someone else around only make things worse? Only time would tell really. But he needed to find out. Because if it helped, he wasn't gonna knock it.

Hell, that was why he used to smoke in 'Nam. It helped. He knew his mother wouldn't have liked it, but it helped...

Claudia wasn’t exactly in the Tavern because there was no where else to go. She was here because there was somewhere else to go and she did not want to be there. She and Michael had met at her favored bar and she did not want to sit at the bar all evening moping around and counting how many months it had been since Michael had simply stopped seeing her. She only wanted a glass or two of wine, not a night full of memories that would only leave her confused and annoyed and wondering what she had done to chase him off.

Claudia pushed through the door way and immeditaly knew it was a bad choice. The Tavern was pub like and dark in the gloomy sense, not in a romantic sense. People were rough and tired looking and she was wearing pumps and a sleek skirt and a formal blouse. Her skirt was three quarter length long, leaving just enough leg to be professional and beautiful. Her white blouse was open at the collar revealing her collarbones and a strand of faux pearls. Her straight dark hair was tied up into a loose, elegant bun that was precise for a work place and for going out after work. She stuck out like a garden in the desert.

Claudia’s heels made soft tapping sounds across the hardwood floor as she weaved through the tables to the bar. She seated herself near the end, further away from the others, which actually put her nearer to the man by himself. It was the wiser choice, she was sure. If he was seated alone he wanted his peace, therefore even if he were to speak to her or her to him at least she knew he couldn’t be bothered with harassing her. Or she hoped, anyways.

“A wine list?” she asked the bartender. Her accent was British, he dialect was careful and each word pronounced perfectly clearly. The bartender left her in search for a wine list behind the bar.

Wine list...?

Tobias raised an eyebrow curiously. What kind of woman came to a trashy club and... And asked for the wine list?

She was in a rather atractive little skirt that the darker side of him just wanted to take off... Maybe lift up as he took her. The skin at the crook of her shoulders and neck was soft and inviting, tempting to any vampire, but especialy a hungry one.

"D'ya even know where you are darl'n?" He couldn't help but grin a little, a slight stream of smoke coming out of the corner of his smile. "This isn't exactly the place I'd expect to see a beautiful thing like you who isn't gonna charge me if I wanted a little fun." He said with a chuckle. "Or even one who wouldn't want to have a bit of fun herself." He was never a fan of prostitution... Women degrading themselves because they thought they couldn't do better... Bull shit. Everyone could do better than prostitution...

But she didn't seem like the typpe he could convince for a romp anyway... Probably kinda useless, but hell. He could find another later in the night if he felt like it. It was probably just her arrival that aroused him. Made him hunger for flesh in more ways than one.

"If ya had a hard day at the office, wine ain't gonna help ya relax as well as other things." He said as he offered her a puff.

Wine list. Yes.

She turned her head barely sideways, just hardly enough to look at him through green eyes. Darl’n? His English was atrocious. His words didn’t frighten her, and though they should have, they did not offend her either, not really. If you really thought about it, he was giving her a compliment in a very crude sort of way. She was beautiful, he was saying. He was saying she wasn’t to be mistaken with a prostitute. In…his very…crude way…

And when the wine list came, and when she peeked over it’s content as he continued to speak. The wine list was, as she had dreaded, was miserably cheap. She looked at it twice and finally lay it down on the bar in front of her. Everything she did seemed delicate.

“Yes, I believe I do know where I am,” she told him. Her tone was not speaking down to him but it certainly held a warm tone that was meant to warn him he could only be so crude. Of course, with how intoxicated he must be it wasn’t likely that would catch the warning. “And I am not here for fun.” She returned her gaze to the list, almost putting her arm on the bar but thinking better of it and putting her hands in her lap. Lord only knew what…substance was on this bar top.

“Wine is not to be used to forget a bad day. It should be appreciated for what it is.” She enjoyed wine. If it were to be used to wash away the hell of a bad day, to get drunk, then it would not be enjoyable at all. “Alcohol is not relaxing,” she told him in an informing manner. “It is depressing.

Drunk? Who was drunk? He had bairly finished three beers, that wasn't drunk by any means.

But wasn't she little miss prim and propper? Yeah... This dingy place wasn't good for her... The guys here weren't the best sorts, hell, he was probably the best one of the bunch. The other were all just out looking for sex if not worse.

"Look miss... You don't understand. This ain't a good place for a woman of your class and beauty. A lot of the guys here like to cause trouble over girls and it can get really ugly." He said looking at her with his cool blue eyes.

"I'm not one of the guys to hassle a lady ma'am, but I could point out ten guys in the crowd who wouldn't mind roughing you up or worse." He took another puff on the joint and put it out before looking up at her again. "I can tell you don't like me, and I'm not sure if I like you much either with your airs. But I've never been one for just sitting back while a lady gets hurt." He said as he took a swig of his beer.

"Why did you come here anyway if you knew this place was a pit?"

“Are you shooing me out because of my safety or because they might get uppity and disturb you?” She asked coolly. She had known that that was not what he meant but she hates that he is telling her exactly what that little voice in her head is screaming.

Claudia finally turned towards him completely, turning her upper body and her face, crossing her legs carefully balancing on the edge of the stool. If he could point out ten guys in this crowd who wouldn’t mind roughing her up…or worse.. she could point out twenty. “Did I imply that I did not like you?” she asked him, her tone wasn’t cautious but it was low and gentle, as if she knew she might be treading on thin water. “If I did, I certainly didn’t mean to give that impression.” Claudia tried not to form opinions of someone who she didn’t yet know. Of course, that was hard to do when you walk into a place like this. Her first instinct had been to label them all as roughens and run for the hills.

I came here because I didn’t want to go there. “It didn’t appear so much of a pit on the outside,” she replied. And it was true, it actually looked quaint. It was when she’d walked through the door that the alarm bells sounded.

"Because babe, I don't wanna have to rough anyone up. That okay with you?" Toby asked holding his hands out in a slightly helpless manner. "I kinda like keeping a low profile, and I really don't like hurting or killing people. Not my style anymore." And he wasn't trying to scare her, no. If he wanted to all he had to do was let his fangs grow out and well, that would do the job just fine.

"Call it a sixth sense miss." He said in responce to her question. "I can just tell if someone don't like me. And you've been giving me that vibe, I gotta say. Not as bad as some though. But maybe that's just cause we got off on the wrong foot."

He stuck a hand out towards her, one that was gloved in a more so bikers style glove with the fingers bare from the knuckles down. "I'm Tobias and I guess I'll be your personal guard tonight so you don't find yourself in trouble up to those curvy hips of yours. Feel free ta call me Toby if ya like."

Babe? She raised a slim black eyebrow into a smooth arch. That was a first. She pushed the wine list away from her towards the edge of the bar and returned her gaze to him as he spoke. The fact that he said killing people wasn’t his style anymore caused her to pause just long enough to wonder if she was possibly speaking to the most dangerous and most psychotic man in this god forsaken bar.

She didn’t reply when he explained why he was sure that she did not like him. He was wrong, she was trying not to form an opinion just because he was in a bar like this one. After all, she was in the bar too. However, after that remark about not killing anymore it was becoming an effort not to form an opinion.

“Alright, hero,” she finally replied and the nickname was not harsh or sarcastic. She wondered also if having a killer for a body guard was a good idea. She wondered if his being a body guard at all was wise. “Toby,” she repeated, and she wondered if it was wise to tell him her name: “Claudia.” And that was when the bar tender returned to collect his list. She ordered bare foot wine. It was far beneath her impeccable taste but quite possibly the best wine on that slim, sad list.

"Claudia..." He nodded thoughtfully. The name suited her well too. Old fashion, prim... But it was a soft, gentle and delicate name as well.

"Mmmm... I guess now that I have your name, I can't call you babe anymore. Damn, and I was beginning to like it to. Kinda fit I think." He said with an almost playful grin.

Waving down the bartender he pushed aside his now empty bottle.

"Can I get a tall glass Gin on the rocks? The bigger the better." The tender nodded and moved off to get the glass and was back a moment later with the simple order. "The Ace man was right... Nothing better than a glass of cold gin." He said as he tipped the glass back, draining nearly half of the drink. He looked at her then curiously, wondering if she got the reference.

"Anything I can get ya Claudia?"

"In that case, Toby," she replied easily. The curt tone in her voice wasn't as harsh as it seemed it should be. "I am glad I told you my name." She didn't appreciate being called 'babe'. It was inappropriate and belonged to crude high school students and gangsters. It was not appropriate to be bestowed upon anyone who considered themselves ladies or anyone who wished themselves to be seen as such.

"The Ace man?" she asked, cocking her head back towards him again.

She raised her eyebrows breifly and shook her head. "No. I've ordered already," she told him, waving at the bar tender moving to the other end of the bar where some dusty bottles of wine are rarely chosen. "Thank you, though," she added, because it was polite and because she was grateful of the offer.

"As am I Claudia." He said with an amused little grin.

"But anyway, the Ace man. Ace Frehley, the guitarist of KISS. C'mon gal, you telling me you don't know of the SpaceMan Ace?" He chuckled. "Kids these days, I tell ya listening to Rap and hip-hop all the time, they don't know any good music it seems." He muttered more to himself before tossing down the last of the Gin.

Motioning for a refill he looked back at Claudia.

"Well, we can put your wine on my tab. Nothing better to spend my money on tonight. But just promise me you'll have a real drink here sometime."

She only just stopped herself from rolling her eyes. Why she was still sitting here was a complete riddle to her.

"Ace Frehley." She said the name as if she was committing it to her memory. She blinked twice, surprised that he could think, after teasing her for what she was, that she listened to rap or hip hop. "Excuse me?" She inquired. "I do not listen to such distasteful, disrespectful music. It is crude and womanizing and completely ridiculous." Claudia's taste ran towards music without words at all, most of the time, varying between things such as Beethoven to such things as Jazz and even the seventies: the stray cats, the lounging lizards. Those were the few that she listened to lyrics at all. Dream Weaver was soothing, the Black Cadillac was fun.

"Thank you but I can hold my own," she told him. "I'm a big girl, hero." If he could call her babe, she could call him hero. She's become accustomed, in this country, to men thinking less of what she was capable simply because of her gender.

"Only if you let it be Claudia. Otherwise I happen to think rock can be a lot of fun." He said with a chuckle. Well of course it was probably a little demeaning to women, but he never really thought of it in that kinda way really. On occasions he did, when the situation fits.

"But if you don't listen to that, what do ya listen to?" He asked, genuinely curious. "And don't call me Hero. No one else ever thought that, dunno why you'd think that outa the blue."

No, not many guys that came back were thought of as heroes. Some of them were denied proper treatment... Some were left alone for the rest of their lives, disowned by their families because they chose to fight and support the country they lived in.

"Besides, I haven't been calling you anything but your name since you gave it to me Claudia." He pointed out casually with a soft smile. "I would expect you to call me by my proper name as well. I don't really ask a whole lot I must say, and asking you use my name is only a small request. I'm no hero Claudia, I was never treated like one before, there is no need to treat me like one now."

And the situation wasn't appropriate to think of it like that now? A lady sitting at the bar, two stools down talking about her dislike for the way some music is demeaning to women. If this isn't an appropriate time, Claudia would like to know just exactly was appropriate.

"Classical, Jazz," she answered. She won't add that the only time she really listened to music at all was when she was cooking, driving, or in the bath tub, the latter seemingly happening more often then the later as of recent days. "Sometimes the seventies," she added. This would most typically be her driving music.

She blinked with a long, slow sweep of her eye lashes when he corrected her, making a short speech on being a hero. "Forgive me then, Toby," she replied, chided. The bar tender brought her her cheap wine and she didn't touch it but thanked him with an easy, closed-lipped smile. "I didn't mean to offend you so much," she went on. "If you don't mind my asking, though, you said 'before'?" This had intrigued her. Had he been to war recently? Was he older then he looked and had been to war more years back then she would guess?

"S'all good really." Toby said accepting her apology in stride. It wasn't like the word itself bothered him, but... No one else had thought that when he left. Why would people think that of him all of a sudden? As she asked what he meant though... A quirky little idea came to his mind. Tell the truth. Well it wasn't like he was a liar, he just didn't go shouting around what he was. But just to see what would happen...

"I was in Vietnam." He said simply. "I'm American of course, and when the draft came up, I was one of the last to go over there. The place was like hell on earth really... And it was only by the grace of god I escaped a few years later, still alive. But when I got back... The only person to give a damn was my Auntie, and she wasn't even a blood relative." Tobias said with a soft grin as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes. "She was the only one who thought me a hero really... My mom mighta too if she had lived to see me again."

Yeah... There were days, many days, he regretted not running here in the first place. He remembered how pissed he had been when amnesty had been granted to draft dodgers. People like him... Ones who had been called to service and had ran. Fucken cowards... He had a good life before he went, and he knew that he could loose it all, but he went anyway. Why couldn't they do the same?

With the slight scowl on his face Toby lit up his cigarette and offered the pack to Claudia. He doubted she smoked, but hell, he'd be polite at least.

"She wanted me to come up here, but I refused. I wasn't gonna run. And because of that, when I got back everyone treated me like shit because I had chosen to go. Sure I didn't agree with why we got over there, but I'll be damned if I'm not gonna support my country when they need me."

She blinked twice, her reaction delayed by seconds, when he declared that he had been to Vietnam. She had entertained the thought that perhaps he could have been older then she thought and he was in the gulf war but never in a million years would she have thought that he might be in Vietnam. She listened to his spiel and nearly replied ‘excuse me?’ with a disbelieving tone but when she finally found words to respond with they slipped through her lips unchecked. “You look good for your age.”

She paused, stunned by both the enormity of his lie and by the unlikelieness that those words had come from her at all. She realized, perhaps, that her wasn’t lying, he was in fact joking, this proven by his grin while he fumbled with a pack of cigarettes. Still, she was stunned that those words had come to her instead of something particularly disbelieving. Was she flirting unintentionally? She took a sip of the cheap wine, not pausing to think on the bitterness of it hitting her tongue.

When he offered her a cigarette she declined with a shake of her head. “No thank you.” She didn’t, however, inform him that smoking was a very unhealthy habit and unattractive to boot. She’s sure, first of all, that he knows that already and second of all that he doesn’t give a rat how attractive he looks with a cancer stick hanging from his lips.

“I…” she tried to find words for a response. He was taking it a little bit too far to be just a joke. How do you respond to such a terrible lie? How do you ever become such a bad liar? Besides, being British and only recently having moved over “here” she still doesn’t quite consider herself American or to have a ground breaking view or opinion on American wars and heroes. “Well it seems today that Veterans of the war are heroes. And today, even those who don’t support the war do support the troops.” There. She isn’t condoning his lie but she is trying to make him feel better.



OOC: So sorry it took so long to reply. School and work and family and ... you know the deal.

"You don't believe me, do you." It wasn't so much a question as it was a statement of fact.

After all, how could someone who looked in his early thirties at the very most, have been in a war... Almost... What was it now? Forty something years ago? Well in truth he was indeed fifty-seven this year. Wow... Was he really that old.

"Oh yeah, they realize now that what they did to us back them was shit. Some places wouldn't hire me just because I had been in the war. People would spit on me in the streets if they knew I had gone... They didn't support the war, or the troops back then Claudia. They try to make up for what they did to them, but fuck... You can't take back a bullet once fired or a punch once thrown, can ya."

After all, it wasn't until 1994 that Military service past or present couldn't be used against you when being hired... And it wasn't like they did much to provide for him...

"My name would have been on the wall if I hadn't made it back, but I was one of the lucky ones I have to say... But what's the matter? You don't believe things you can't see with your own eyes?" He tossed back a swig of his drink as he looked at her.

Claudia looked passive when he declared that she did not believe him. She did not respond. What was she expected to say? No, I don’t. You couldn’t possibly be fifty-something years old? Yes! I believe you. I believe that you are as preserved as a mummy, that you are the youngest appearing fifty year old I’ve ever seen. She almost smirked at the thought but managed not to, the passive look remaining settled.

“You’re right,” she replied. “You can’t unring a bell.” She turned away from the counter and crossed her legs, facing him, settling her eyes on him. These were the eyes that would make her a good lawyer one day. “But you can try to make up for mistakes you’ve made in the past. If you don’t accept people’s attempts at setting things right then it isn’t them who is to blame.” She thought for a moment, contemplating not even saying her next words but finally she did. “Bitterness is a nasty, nasty trait to have, Mr. Toby, and in the end it will make no one happy.”

Claudia smiled, and it was a sweet and understanding smile, though she’d never been through nearly what he claimed to have been through. “I believe in many things beyond my ability to see,” she replied but the notes in her voice careful and soothing.

"After I came back I was dead to everyone Claudia. My Aunt died shortly after I got back, my mother died when I was being held hostage. They didn't try to set anything right, and I only did what I was asked to do." His hand was tightening around the glass almost dangerously. "I went because I was asked to go... My country asked for my help so I thought that like a good American should, I wasn't going to run. I wasn't going to be a coward and I wasn't going to run."

It wasn't a mistake for him to go. He had done the right thing. Well, according to him. But to so many back then, they didn't think so.

She didn't believe him, so what the hell was the point. He wasn't going to come out and say what he was, she wouldn't believe him either. Ah well. Pity. She would have been a fun little feed... A nice little romp.

She didn't seem the type for a romp, but in his better times he could convince her, sway her to wanting him. But he wasn't going to bother now. Lucky for her perhaps.

He had his wars mixed up. He must have just come home from Iraq. Or maybe he’d been in the Gulf War. That would have made her three? So he would be in his forties or late thirties now, and even that was a stretch on her imagination. But the fact that he had been to war was undeniable.

Then he mentioned having been kept a hostage and suddenly it didn’t matter that he was confused, that he couldn’t keep his wars straight. Her face was shocked, horrified even, for seconds before she smoothed her features over with a careful expression that could have been pity or could have been sadness.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, that he had been held hostage, that he had never said goodbye to his mother, that his aunt had died, that he had gone through what he had. He was holding his glass so tightly that she feared it would break or shatter. She stood, leaving her disliked and cheap wine behind, and closed the few stools between them, sitting cautiously beside. She reached out and put a small, gentle hand on the back of his wrist, trying to ease away the tension that would shatter the glass and hurt him.

She didn’t say anything else, what was she supposed to say? That it’s alright? She didn’t believe that he had his wars right, probably the influence of alcohol and she was sure that if she tried to correct the war he’d fight it, and still, that would not change the facts.

Warmth… It was the warmth of her hand that nearly shocked him, almost made him jerk his hand away from her touch. It surprised him really, and as he looked up to her the scowl on his face had softened. “The camps that you always heard about back then… It wasn’t even close…” His voice was as near to a whisper as could be. “The water you had to drink… Dirt and worm infested… You’d have to scrape the mosquito larvae off of the surface when it had been sitting too long… The bread they gave you was the only food that they gave to prisoners… Full of maggots… Riddled with other things that would make a man sick just by smelling it. But it was all you had. You ate it… or you starved.”

Why was he telling her this? It wasn’t because she actually believed him. It wasn’t because she knew what he really was and he felt he had to tell her… Or perhaps it was because that now his mind was consumed by the thoughts that still gave him nightmares, he wanted to try and rid himself of them…

It was all he could do to keep from clenching his hand again, shattering the glass without a second thought.

But the warmth… He tried to focus on the warmth of her hands… He wanted to feel that warmth all over, wanted to feel like he wasn’t stuck back in the jungles… In the mud and pits of Vietnam…

“I know it sounds cliché… But kids these days don’t understand how good they got it. Even the ones in Iraq now… When they get captured… It ain’t nothing to back then. I seen guys eat the ones who had just died… Watched with horror as their hunger took over completely…” He shook his head with a sigh, pushing the glass away before he could harm it.

His description sickened her. In her mind she knew that things had been so bad, she’d known about the wars, about the hostages, about the living conditions, even those free people who had fought, let alone for the men who had been captured. Her stomach turned over and now her hand was winding tighter over his knuckles, an unconscious movement as if to hold on to solidity and remind herself that a lady can not be sick in public. He hand had begun to grow clammy, as though she suddenly had a case of the stomach flu.

Why was he telling her this? Because he was drunk and alcohol is a depressant, her conscience informed her. Why was she listening? Why not walk away? Because she felt bad? She didn’t even believe his lies but on some level she pitied it all the same, hurt that he had hurt. She didn’t even know him.

She smiled a little, despite the turning over her stomach. “It does sound a little cliché, but you are right. Us kids don’t know how good we’ve got it.” Us kids. Heh. “I wouldn’t say that,” she disagreed. “War is war, despite what you were forced to go through no war is better then another, no experience in the field is any less terrifying or difficult then another. It isn’t anything compared to back then in reality but where emotions are concerned, I’m sure they feel the same desperation, the same fear.”

I seen guys eat the ones who had just died.

Her fingers grew tight around his again, her small hand nearly insignificant over his. Her other hand moved, without her realizing, to her stomach. “Mr. Toby, please,” she begged.

It was as if the whimper... The soft begging of her voice reached him, snapping him out of his depression. The thoughts that obsessed his mind.

"I... I'm sorry... Not usually like this..." He said as he shook his head. "I didn't mean to upset you darling... You didn't need to hear those things." Tobias apologized in a whisper. "I should probably go now."

Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a twenty and laid it on the counter. "For the lady's drink too." He said to the bartender.

"The best way I can make up for what I've done ta ya is just leave ya alone Ma'am... I get in a mood sometime, and there's very little that can snap me out of it. You don't need to hear anything I've got to say, I shouldn't have even started with you. It was nice of you to humor me, even if you didn't believe me. Thank you." He said as he stood up. "But I should go now..."

He’d called her darlin again but she didn’t correct it this time, nor did she retaliate with a ‘hero.’ That had started them off on bad footing already as was. “I…” She removed her hand from her stomach with no effort at all when she realized what she had done. “You haven’t upset me,” she insisted softly. “Silly me, I’m just weak stomached.” She smiled, shrugging off the worst thing a man had described to her in a long time as if it meant nothing beyond the moon.

“You don’t have…” to do that. She didn’t finish, letting it go. That cheap wine wasn’t worth the money but more so it wasn’t worth the fight.

Claudia sighed. “Please don’t leave because you think that you have disturbed me,” again, her tone was pleading. She couldn’t have stood the idea that he left because of her. “I’ll leave if I must but please, you stay.”

"You're a sweetheart Claudia." He said with a soft grin as he put his hand up to her cheek. She was so warm... so very warm. What he wouldn't give to hold her body to his, just to feel alive again.

"I've gotta go anyway though. Grab a bite to eat. You shouldn't linger here too long either. This place isn't good for a beautiful woman like you. Isn't good for you to be alone." Bending his head down he kissed her forehead softly her skin warm under his cool lips. "Hopefully we'll meet again... Under better circumstances." He said with what was his first true smile of the night.

The scent of her hair was still lingering in his nose... A soft delicate scent, untarnished by the smells of the bar.

"Take care of yourself darling."

She offered a gentle smile at being called a sweetheart, wishing it were true. She could be cold and cruel with her stiff manners and she knew it. Would it kill her to let her guard down a little, to drop formality once in a while and be soft and gentle?

Her mother would roll in her grave.

“I won’t,” she replied when he warned her against lingering. “The wine here wasn’t worth it.” Formalities…she smiled. “Your company was pleasant, though,” she offered, despite that it was his description that had made her feel ill…

He kissed her forehead and she was reminded of her grandfather, her father. She smiled, closed lipped and delighted at the memory and the thought. While he was in such close range, she inhaled, taking his smell with her. No, he didn’t smell like her grandfather’s brandy or her father’s ginger smells.

“I will. You take care as well Tobis. It was a pleasure to meet you.” She would follow him out of the bar, heeding his warning to the rough men within, and also her own instinct to the bitter taste of cheap wine.

Besides….he had described it all so…perfectly. She had an urge to research now, research the war…something she hadn’t studied since grade school.

Reminded her of her father, or grandfather? There was a reason. He was old enough to be her father, maybe even her grandfather depending how situations fell.

"Good. I don't want to see you as a head line or even as a page five article on the newspaper tomorrow." He said with a soft smile as he pulled another cigarette from his pocket and a lighter from the other.

It was only as he stepped outside though that he lit up. He doubted Claudia liked the scent, but well, he did. Here in the open air though it wouldn't bother her as much.

"You need an escort home or you think you'll be okay?" If she drove, he wasn't going to walk her home. If she walked though, he'd probably follow her a good deal of the way home so he knew she was safe. Why did he want to do that? he wasn't quite sure really. He wasn't attracted to the woman in the sense that he thought she was beautiful. She wasn't bad looking for sure. But perhaps it was just her humanity that he was drawn to. Her warm skin. her soft touch... Her innocence.

Something, someone that needed to be protected.

“A common interest,” she smiled, exiting. She frowned when he lit another cigarette but again she still did not say anything. “I don’t want to be in the headlines tomorrow either.” She watched him inhale. Why on earth would anyone want to destroy their body? Why on earth would anyone like that burning, harsh feeling in their throat.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I’ll be fine, thank you. Like I said before, I like to think that I can hold my own.” Although I wouldn’t mind an escort. Of course, that would have defeated the purpose of ‘holding her own’ so she didn’t say this out loud. When she had walked down her the only thought was that she did not want to think about Michael and his disappearance. Now, however, that her mind had cleared she realized how far she had walked, how deep into a bad area she had come. She sighed. “I can’t say it was lovely to meet you, Toby, but it was interesting and it was a pleasure to meet you.” She smiled. Maybe if he hadn’t made her queasy she would have called it lovely meeting him.

Claudia offered him a smile as she finally turned and began to walk away, her heels echoing terribly out of place in this setting, her crisp business suit just too obvious. The car was not far, she knew that she would be fine, all of the confidence she had felt before he had warned her that she was venerable was back.

OOC: Heh. I'm so tired today because of last night that I posted this in my thread with Pandora...and I didn't notice until she PMed me confused. -sighs-

Damage his body? Hah... Right, if she only knew...

But as he breathed in the smoke deep, the rough harsh feeling made him feel alive. Pain. Pain means you're still alive. It means that you're still breathing, still moving. It means you can survive. War taught him that.

"Well it was lovely meeting you dear Claudia." He said in a rather formal manner that didn't quite fit him. He even gave a slight bow of his head. "But of course if you'd ever like to meet again, I usually spend the early nights here before hitting bigger and better places." He gave her a little wink.

"Anyway, I'm gonna go grab a bite to eat. You get home safe, and maybe I'll see you round later. Usually I'm not in such a mood. Sometimes... Ya know, the memories. They just kinda get to me." He admitted. Yeah he knew he had problems, and he wasn't afraid to admit them. At least then people would know why he was acting odd, why he was in a mood and wouldn't think that he was dangerous.

"So I'll probably be a lot better next time."