undergrounds | Now she rolls with Rockerfellers (OPEN)

1. Guilty Pleasures - night

Kenzi wasn't allowed to eat the dancers. She knew that. Which was why she was pointedly avoiding them. Jean-Claude didn't say anything about clients though...but just to be careful she directed her meal covertly into the restroom. She wasn't sure if it was the mens or womens though...seeing through that haze of hungryneeditbloodwarmeateateateat that was driving her forward on the fumes in her tank. She'd gone what felt like days without drinking - when in reality it was closer to only a day.

Perks of being a newborn. You eat like you've been fasting.

Kenzi was just glad she'd found a guy who swang both ways, otherwise there was no way she could have coerced him this far. Unfortunately for him, he just thought he was getting laid tonight.

Apologies if you were enjoying the relative peace of the restroom...

2. Your favorite drinking hole - night

Why she thought this would work, Kenzi had no idea. She was currently in the alley outside a bar - she didn't know the name - puking her guts out. It was mostly just alcohol at this point, as she had been drinking like she hadn't had one in a month.

Which was mostly true. It was close to a month since she'd been turned.

She was craving a drink. Not blood - well not in the same way - but alcohol. Vodka, whiskey, wine, whatever she could have she wanted and did in the very bar she was bent over next to now.

The taste had been horrible, but she drank it all anyways. Alcohol wasn't supposed to taste good. But it was the feeling she wanted from it.

And it was that very same feeling she was heaving up now.

3. Portobello Road Street Fair - day

Some things never change, though, and Kenzi was in her customary booth on Portobello still working her gypsy fortune teller cliche look and accent - just with a new piece of jewelry to keep her from burning alive in what little sun was shining today.

She looks...slightly more miserable than usual though. Because she can't just stop the witch aspects of her stall, that would ruin everything about this. So being surrounded by her old life and the reminders that she'll never be able to do magic again stings more than she thought it would.

At least she was never actually trying with the tarot cards in the first place?

4. WILDCARD

If you want to come up with something with me, ping me on

cupcakepantry!

Threaded | Flat

"Alright, that's it. Get it out." Nancy had taken the night off in favor of spending time with her bestest friend in the whole world. It was time to have a good night after the past few months of hell, and maybe pretend everything was the way it used to be. Which was why Nancy was at Kenzi's side, one hand holding up her friend's long hair, the other rubbing her back.

"You're going hard." Harder than she should. And given that Nancy was the alcoholic of the two, it was cause for at least mild concern.

Jean-Claude watches his charge disappear into the restroom with one of the patrons of the club and a small frown appears on his face. It's not that he disapproves of feeding on the human, not exactly. It's more that he knows what sort of unknown she is, as a baby vampire, knows that she won't be able to control herself, and knows that if someone finds a dead body in his restroom then that would be bad for business.

So he decides to step in himself. He'd been in enough trouble with the police when Phillip had been called out for the possession of dark magical artifacts. He didn't need any more Guardians knocking on his door.

Stepping forward and swinging into the bathroom behind her, he takes stock of the situation before him before he states, as calm and coolly as he can, "I suggest that you let him go now, ma petite souris."

The whole thing is kitschy is what is it. But it's so over the top it's enough to draw Connor in. He is, however, surprised to see that she looks pretty miserable. He takes a seat across from her, looking over the tarot card deck and then up to her, taking in all the cliches and her miserable attitude.

"What, did you read the end of the world this morning, or something?"

It isn't rare, to see booths like this, the acts those running these little one-man-or-woman shows put on to lure in the unsuspecting (or suspecting but in want of a distraction) passer-by... but what is rare is the lack of said show, any kind of indication that the young woman even wants customers.

It's rare enough to draw Gaby's attention.

"A slow day?" she asks, her voice nonchalant, conversational.

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