undergrounds | walking with strangers (March & April Catch-All)

Nancy, for her part, waves it away.

"A few close friends, but... Well, like I said, I don't judge by party lines or species." She knew some did, and it was hardly fair. But she tried to be different.

"Lots of associates though, yes. Happens, in my line of work." She gestures at her neck vaguely. "You're hardly the first I've offered my neck to." Blood workers were looked down upon by the general community. Sex workers were no different.

"No, I got the feeling this wasn't your first time. You seemed to know what you were doing." Natasha knows just how they're treated—and she considers how she's treated them herself in the past. Not with scorn. She's never been that condescending toward humans. She's not sure her general indifference and occasional overuse were much better though, and it sits uneasily with her. Maybe it has been for a while, and she never really let herself notice?

"I was wondering about that, actually."

Nancy gives a small shrug. "Yeah- far from it." She's only nineteen, but to quote Hamilton, her mind is older. It's something she's been doing for far too long, and shoulders well.

The curiosity though, that's actually something refreshing, and she takes another sip of her gin. "Yeah? Well- I'm in a sharing mood, if you're keen asking." Natasha seemed the sort of person that was just easy to talk to. The cliched setting of the seedy little bar only added to it.

"Thanks. If you don't want to answer, I'll understand by the way. No commitment." She says, because she understands that it might be personal—hopefully not prying. It's a little early in the night to start asking about her history or drag out her motivations.

But there are a couple of things Natasha would like to know. For a starter, "Do you enjoy it?"

Nancy considers for a moment. "Most of the time." It hurts, but it's the good hurt, when it's wanted. "As much as anyone can when you're getting your blood drained." It made her miss Cooper, how... intimate their feeding sessions had become. And yet they didn't touch aside from that, from the occasional friendly gesture.

"It's a very strange sensation."

It is. Natasha remembers it, but memory can be a funny thing after fifty years or so.

"I've heard some people get endorphin rushes from it," she says instead of letting her mind wander back to her own experience. "Like a runner's high, I suppose. But more lightheaded."

Natasha might not be entirely convinced by that explanation. She's not sure Nancy would be either.

"Figure it's better that way."

"yeah- that's certainly part of it. with some people it's so intimate- there's a reason blood and sex work go hand in hand so often." Nancy is casual about it as she takes a sip of her gin.

"Just another way for the body to get something out of the pain, I guess." The whole thing was odd. "But I've never given it that much thought, honestly."

"I'd say there's more than one reason they go together," Natasha says, maybe a little too neutral. Intimate was a good word for it, but at least in Natasha's experience it was a little too civilized.

"That's good to know, though. Maybe a strange thing to wonder about after I've turned you down, but..." She gives a shrug. It seems like the kind of thing she ought to be concerned with, if she had said yes. If she asked herself in the future. "Good to know."

"There certainly is," she agrees, and yes, it's a bit awkward given everything, but important, she guesses.

"Oh- don't worry about it. You asked, I told. I'm not reading too much into any of it. Don't worry." She flashed her a reassuring smile.

"Well... Thank you for answering." Natasha pauses, then forces herself to drink her scotch. She's not impressed. The flavor rests uneasily with her. She forces it down, though.

"Was there anything you ever wanted to know? Only fair."

"Of course," Nancy says with an incline of her head. "It's no trouble."

Usually, she wouldn't have had her own questions, but today is the different sort, and she has to wonder: "Why'd you decide to go vegetarian, if you don't mind me asking." For lack of better terms.

It's a question Natasha knew would be coming eventually; if not tonight and Nancy, then someone else would want to know at some point. As having to talk about it went, there were a lot worse ways the topic could come up.

That didn't make it entirely comfortable, though.

"I guess the short version is that someone made me realize I didn't really like who I was, doing what I was doing," she says. It's not exactly the answer she'd rehearsed, but part of a good cover is knowing when to amend it for your audience. Another is including just enough of the truth. "Thought it might be a good idea to take a break while I figured some things out."

Natasha's reasoning is familiar. She's heard it before, with alcoholics and the like. Of course, she won't say this out loud.

"Wow- well, good for you. That takes a lot of guts, to recognize that and do something about it." She just met the woman, but she was pretty proud of her. Nancy nods as she takes a drink. "That's really smart."

If Nancy had said that, Natasha would have been the first to admit it was true—with the extra complication that she can't be called addicted any more than any others of her kind, and she really does need blood to survive. She's not entirely sure how to react to praise for her decision.

"Thanks," she says a little uncertainly. "Not sure it's a permanent solution, but at least it gives me a chance to figure some things out."

"It does. And- if you ever do change your mind, I'll give you my number." Better someone willing than an innocent victim, she was sure they could both agree to that.

"Or, I suppose, so you can have my number." In general. Not in a date sort of way by any means, but it was always good to have a friend in town. Or at least someone to commiserate with over drinks.

Natasha's smile when she answers is a little thin, hardly flirtatious—the kind of smile that covers uncertainty. In Natasha's case it covers it well, "I wouldn't mind having the safety net just in case, if you're all right with it."

She shakes her head a little. It's been two months now, and it's not getting easier. Natasha can power her way through it, for now, and she thinks she'll be able to continue to if she has to. If nothing goes wrong. If she doesn't get hurt, or too angry, or too excited.

Nancy offering saves her having to ask, at least. Natasha doesn't like admitting to weakness.

"And I appreciate having it in general. I don't know many people around here yet. And I don't always make the best first impression."

Perfect. That went without a hitch, and Nancy's surprisingly relieved.

"Hand me your mobile, I'll put myself in." Because that's so much easier than scribbling it down on a cocktail napkin.

She raises an eyebrow. "Well you bought a girl a drink, I'd say that's a good first impression." She'd also had awful men buy her drinks, so there really wasn't much basis to go off of there. Nancy wasn't too hard to impress.

Natasha hands over her phone. It's nothing fancy—not old or cheap, but clearly a burner. She won't argue with Nancy's assessment, even though she doesn't agree with it. Who's she to talk someone out of giving her a chance?

"You've been a good listener," Natasha says instead, turning the exchange into something mutually beneficial. Even if she didn't really want to talk, there was something soothing about being able to say a little and not be judged for it. "So we'll call it a success all around?"

Well-manicured nails type her name and number in.

"Well, thank you." It's not the first time she's heard it, but she bows her head in thanks as she passes Natasha back her phone. "I think we should. I'd like to do it again sometime." If she wanted to, again, there was no pressure as far as Nancy was concerned.

Taking the phone back, Natasha snorts a soft laugh. One hand waves in a vaguely inclusive gesture.

"Well, I do this more nights than I should probably admit to. It kills time." he tips her head in a nod. "If I'm not taking you away from anything more important, I wouldn't mind company every once in a while."

"You're not," she promises, and moves to finish off her drink.

"But that being said- I should probably get a move on. Thank you. For the conversation and the drink."

"Of course. Don't let me keep you." Natasha probably shouldn't stay that much longer either. She's taken up this bar stool long enough.

"I'll give you a call sometime, maybe."

"Hey, I just met you, and this is crazy." Nancy can't help herself- she's a nineteen-year-old who remembers the refrain to that song way way way too well. So call her, maybe.

"Thanks. I'll see you around." With a quick wave, Nancy's on to the next lonely vampire.

walking with strangers (March & April Catch-All)

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