undergrounds | [open] somewhere after midnight

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[open] somewhere after midnight

I. Drinking, Conversation & Light Blood Sport

It's not strange for Natasha to end up in a bar at some point in the evening. Sometimes earlier, sometimes later, but at least a couple of times a week she ends up in one. Tonight is notable not because she's found herself in a new bar—that could be any night—but because she breaks out of her routine of taking a seat at the counter and nursing a drink or two for hour or so, maybe chatting with a regular, then going on her way.

This time she's found herself in a bar near the institute, and she has a drink sitting on the a table off to one side, sure, but instead of sipping it without appetite, she's standing facing a dart board, throwing set after set of darts and landing them in tight clusters in the cork. First around the bull's eye then the triple twenty, the triple nineteen, eighteen, seventeen... and so forth.

Maybe she's relaxing. Maybe she's getting used to being in London and the new job. She'd like to think that's the case, though mostly she's been keeping her head down and her eyes open.

It might be going a little too far to say she's in a good mood, but she's starting to feel a little more outgoing. Enough to turn to someone near by and ask, "Care to give me some competition?"

II. Light Blood Sports & A Drinking Problem

Another night, another bar. This time Natasha is more to her normal script. Or at least, she was for about the first third of her whiskey sour. That's when a disagreement down the bar turns violent. At first, Natasha isn't too worried about it. It isn't her problem, just a couple of drunks knocking over stools and raising their voices.

Then one of them pulls a switchblade and it goes from not her problem to to very much her problem in a matter of a fraction of a second when the blade slides through the other man's jacket and into his forearm. The smell of blood fills the bar room, stronger and more intoxicating than any of the alcohol on the shelf.

It's been over two months since Natasha had human blood, and all in a rush it seems like every second of it was screaming at her. For a moment she freezes, afraid of what she'd do if she moved, afraid of what someone might see if she drew their attention. Her jaw tightens and her nails drag across the top of the bar in a slow, tense scratch. She stares at nothing, her attention narrowing to pin point.

The fight doesn't last from there. The bartender yells at both of them to get out, the bouncer appears. Both of them are kicked out.

And Natasha covers her mouth, shaking.

III. Streetlights, Shadows & Night Owls

Let's call it work. Natasha thinks of it that way. It's not exactly patrolling—nothing that formal. It's more just being out, keeping her eyes open, paying attention and being around. Most nights, it doesn't lead to much. Not wasted time since she's getting used to the city, but she doesn't accomplish a whole lot.

Sometimes, though, she runs into something interesting. Someone she can help? Who knows.

IV. Wildcard

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"I have to be somewhere," she says, almost philosophically. If it sounds like a dodge, that's because it is. But like most of the best redirections, on some level it's also the truest answer.

She adds then, because she's not actually trying to be frustrating even if she is good at it, "I haven't been in the city that long. I'm still getting a feel for it, and that's easier outside than staying in. Besides, I've always been a night person."

The smile that Jean-Claude offers in response to that last thought clearly suggests he is amused by it. "I am glad that some things have worked in your favor, then," he replies. Being as subtle as he can in his statement of the fact that he recognizes her for what she is.

"It is a big city," he continues to reply. "It is not a bad idea, to learn it in such a way. Although no doubt it will take you a fair amount of time before you learn the lay of it. Unless you have a guide, of course." He smiles in such a way to suggest he would not mind such a job himself, before he carries on.

"How is the city treating you so far, then? Since you are new, you say." He certainly hasn't seen her around before now at least.

She figures they were both in on that joke. If you can't make subtle jokes about being a creature of the night, what can you joke about though?

"I've always been pretty good at finding my own way," she responds just a little too slowly to read entirely naturally, despite the fact she returns his smile. It's possible that she's overthinking her reply, but better too cautious than get careless with an older vampire. Even if the tone is casual. "I wouldn't necessarily mind some company though. It gets a little too quiet sometimes, exploring alone."

She starts walking again, pointedly, her head tipping in something just shy of an invitation. She might not be asking him to join her, but she won't object if he's going the same direction.

As for his question... "I imagine the city is treating me about how it treats everyone."

Jean-Claude takes the hint and steps forward to walk beside her, shaking his head as he does.

"You are a tough on, you are," he says. "It is true, though. I would imagine the city does not discriminate, nor does it look more kindly on one more than another. No matter how beautiful that one may be." He flicks another smile at her, suggesting that yes, he knows he's a ham, and he loves every moment of hamming it up.

"I am Jean-Claude," he introduces himself. "And now we are not strangers. You need not feel that you need to defend yourself from me. No more than the rest of them, I suppose."

That confirms who he is—and tells her what JC stood for. She doesn't try to deny that she's on the defensive. Flattery or not, though between this and Kenzi's situation, she has to agree that he doesn't seem to be a threat.

"I'd be protecting myself from anyone your position. It's nothing personal," she tells him with half a shrug, rolling one shoulder. "Natasha. And as luck would have it, I think I ran into your "daughter"? Skinny girl. Light hands?"

It's an intentional dodge, redirecting the conversation away from herself. In Natasha's experience there were very few charming men who weren't more than happy to talk about themselves rather than a woman, given the chance.

Jean-Claude hums slightly under his breath at the description of Kenzi and the use of the word 'daughter' to describe her. It's certainly one way of putting it, to be certain. "Enchanté," he replies, inclining his head in response to her introduction of herself, before going on with her redirect of conversation.

"I take it you mean Kenzi." If that's how she had introduced herself. It's entirely possible that she could have used another name, after all. Kenzi has some wild habits. He cocks his head at her, both coy and curious at the same time. "Did the pair of you have much to say to one another?" An obvious inquiry as to how well it is that she knows Kenzi, and what exactly the girl has told her.

He can thank Kenzi for the word choice.

"A little. You came up in passing—JC? I get the feeling she was sneaking out after curfew though, and maybe she was afraid I was going to tell on her." She cocks her head as she says it, watching him from the corner of her eye. She might be amused. She might also be a little concerned. She remembers what it's like to be that young and hungry; if she'd forgotten, the constant hunger hounding her as the result of moving to animal blood was a stark reminder. She keeps her expression light, though. "Looks like she wasn't entirely wrong about that."

Jean-Claude lets out something of a sigh at that. Both in response to the 'JC' as well in response to the idea that Kenzi was sneaking out. He's not surprised, of course. Kenzi had been sneaking snacks in the bathroom of Guilty Pleasures before he'd caught her at that. But he had let her know that she needed to exercise caution, and he's all too aware that she's not just ready to do that. Maybe she never will be, who can say for certain.

"She certainly is a very willful charge," he responds. Never admitting aloud how much trouble she can be, of course. She is his responsibility and of course he has control over her. But it's only too obvious, having met her, what sort of a personality Kenzi is.

Natasha chuckles at that, a little fondly. Kenzi didn't actually make a bad impression. If anything, Natasha was somewhat concerned that she'd end up in trouble.

Killing humans is also a concern. In a particular way.

"I'm sure she's a challenge," Natasha agrees. Her smile falls a little after that, though. "Is she doing all right?"

She's very young, and Natasha's impression was that she didn't have much connection to a nest...

Edited 2016-05-01 00:24 (UTC)

Jean-Claude inclines his head slightly. "She is. She is... Learning. She will get better in time. I must work hard to keep her in line though, to be true."

He quirks something of a smile at her. "I am sure you understand how difficult it is to be a newborn. Combining that with her natural personality, and I have a lot of work on my hands. It isn't all bad." He tilts his head slightly to the side. "She is entertaining to have around the club, if nothing else."

"Oh, I remember," she says with some sympathy. There's something in her tone that isn't quite humor as she remembers it. She knows what it can be like—her personality was very different from Kenzi's, but she'd been a precocious killer before she was turned. "I don't think my sire trusted me alone with a human he wanted to keep alive for for a year or more."

That's as much an admission as a joke. Hard to hold back when you're not really afraid of the consequences on a practical level and desensitized to it on a moral one.

"So she's already ahead of some of us," she adds then, self-deprecating.

"She didn't mention a club, though."

"Ahh," Jean-Claude says, with the quirk of a smile, before reaching into his jacket and producing a business card. Guilty Pleasures, it reads, in a rather camp sort of way. "Here. If you are ever interested in investigating. Perhaps you might find something you like," he adds, with a wink. If the name isn't hint enough that it's a strip club, the card should give a little more hinting of that away, with it's suggestive silhouettes.

"Working with the patrons, it is an exercise in control. She is doing well, even if she does have her moments." Her moments where she sneaks out on her own, it would seem. He would hope that if she killed anyone while she was out, she had kept it discrete at the least.

Natasha's smile doesn't falter, but she clears her throat as she examines the card. "I think I see why she didn't mention it, now," Natasha says before slipping the card into her pocket. While she might still have some uncertainty about Jean-Claude, she doesn't mind knowing where she can find the younger vampire again. She—well, Natasha got the impression that she didn't have a lot of contact with her own kind, which inclined he to be a little more curious about her maker, but presented its own problems.

Maybe it would help if she interacted with a few more of the?

"Is Kenzi a dancer, or...?" Not that Natasha judged if she were, but it was worth knowing before Natasha showed up to bother the girl at work.

Jean-Claude shrugs. He has very little in the way of shame, especially in regards to such matters. When you are over six-hundred years old, very little phases you. And he has obviously not gone the direction of the prude, unlike many other older vampires could have done. Perhaps if she knew his past, she would understand better. But it is certainly not something he shares himself. Let her overhear it through other means, perhaps.

He shakes his head in response to her comment. "Mais non, ma chère, although if she had such a desire I would not stop her. But I do not force my people into such things." Unlike his own maker had done. "She is our bartender. One of them. She has a talent for conversation, as I am sure you are aware. It seemed the best position for her."

"I did notice that about her. She seems like a sweet kid." Ignoring the pickpocketing and bloodlust. Both legitimate survival tactics, though.

"It won't be a problem if I stop by and check in on her, will it?" She meets his eyes as she asks, not as Kenzi's employer but as her maker. She doesn't intend to step on any toes.

Natasha is still concerned.

Hey, everyone has their demons. And they are both survival tactics it's true, although Jean-Claude disapproves more of the bloodlust than he does of the pickpocketing to be true.

He shakes his head with something of a smile in turn. "So long as you are not checking in on her because you believe me to be lacking, I have no problem with it, no." Otherwise, yes. He has a rather big problem with it indeed.

"That would be exactly the impression I was trying not to give." One of her eyebrows kicks up and she gives half a smile. Her answer, such as it is, is flippant but conciliatory. "We've only just met after all. I usually save the insults for the third date, at least."

Jean-Claude can do with flippancy. Especially when there is a healthy amount of flirtation thrown into the mix.

He smiles in turn, bowing his head at her. "How very generous. Though I ask you to make your own impressions of myself and my people. There are those within the city who would lead you false on such matters. Perhaps they are jealous," he conjectures, with a smirk.

That was definitely flirtation. She's comfortable enough with what she's seen so far to feel safe he's not going to either be offended by her lack of respect or get the wrong idea.

"I've seen enough to know better than to let other people draw my conclusions for me," Natasha says, her voice still light but somehow more hollow than before. It's not a lie. And it's not memories that she cares to dredge up; no one likes remembering their mistakes. "It does make me wonder what they'd tell me about you, though."

Jean-Claude offers her a gallic shrug, which could say anything or nothing at all. "That is something that you will have to ask them to tell you. I am afraid other peoples' opinions of myself, while I am aware of them, I am not nor will I ever be expert in."

It is not to say that whatever they might share will be entirely rumor or falsehood. Save that he would not choose to share such things about himself as the others seem to have focused in on.

"Fair enough." She's not going to push him over it. She may try to find out more on her own, though she's not sure how deep she wants to get into hive business to do it. She's made herself an outsider very intentionally. It's hard to say how things would fall out for her if it looked like she was trying to play both sides.

On the other hand, there's very good reason for her to want to play both sides. It's not as though she'll stop being a vampire because she ignores the nest here.

And there's still her concerns about Kenzi.

"I guess I'll find out for myself, if it comes up."

He inclines his head in return to her pronouncement. Whether she does or she doesn't is no concern to him. It's how much she pays heed to it, buys into him being the whore of the Islington nest that really warrants merit. He supposes he will just cross that bridge when he gets there.

"You may keep an eye on my progeny," he agrees. "But do not worry about her. Not where I am concerned, at least. It is a poor maker indeed who cannot keep an eye on their children, as you say. Even those who have a mind to get themselves into trouble, heedless of my rules." Yes, Kenzi, he will be speaking to you about that one.

"I'm not worried about her because of you," Natasha agrees—reassuring a little even. Having met him, she doubts that less. He seems—not like she would have expected at least. He doesn't seem negligent.

Maybe she shouldn't make it her business, but...

It couldn't hurt, could it?

Natasha could maybe do a little good.

"But as long as you don't mind seeing my face around."

Jean-Claude shakes his head, offering her something of a smile as he does.

"Not at all," he says. "I am her maker. I can only help so much. It would do her well to have a level head about the place." Though there's perhaps something about his response to suggest that her helping mentor Kenzi isn't the only reason he'd be happy to see her around the club.

"I guess I'll be seeing you around, then?" Her brows go up as she says it. Natasha isn't deaf to his tone. He might just be a flirt, but there are worse things to be.

She doesn't really mind it.

[open] somewhere after midnight

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