Cesare is on the prowl. Well, to his credit, prowl is a bit of a strong word for it. Prowl implies a deliberate search for prey. Cesare is waiting for it to come to him instead. He had felt like a change from his regular haunt of his hotel, having felt a dash of cabin fever set in, and so he went to some cocktail bar off the West End, the type with neon blue mood lighting where you could hear the person you were talking to, but only barely. But that is as far as he's going tonight. He's not exactly on an active hunt. If someone who seems appetizing enough ventures up to him, he'll likely flirt for a few minutes then take them back to his hotel to consume-ate, but other than that's he's fairly casual.

He's settled at the bar, drinking scotch when he catches sight of Caroline. She's a vampire, he can tell, one he hasn't seen before, which is odd. He looks her over for a second and smiles, encouraging her to come over and sit with him, if she would like.