Hunger Pangs

[daniel_stacy]

Daniel was starving.

No, really.

If asked, the vampire would swear he hadn’t eaten in weeks. Spending time with Holly was akin to fasting at a dinner table piled with sizzling, juicy steaks. He jogged to his car with the biggest ‘fang boner’ of his life, his face morphing into demonic features and remaining as such for the entirety of the drive into Las Vegas, where he hoped to arrive in time for the casinos to unleash drunken, giddy tourists onto the sidewalk. He parked his car and struck out on foot.

Where, where, where are you going? Get your game face on. Not that one, the pretty one.

Great. Now he talked to himself.

Screw it. He didn’t have the patience for sweet talk. He abandoned the casino plan and swung into a parking garage stairwell, taking the steps three at a time. Sooner or later, a woman who dressed like an extra from Knots Landing would toddle to her car, inebriated and ripe for the sucking. Daniel stopped on level four and meandered between the parked automobiles, in search of one with the hallmarks of womanhood: lipstick tube, emery board, hairbrush. He shielded his eyes and peered into the driver’s side window of a silver Miata.

[Thread: Open to Theresa]

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[daniel_stacy]

“Unschooled,” he said. “Story of my life.”

Daniel had gotten through private school on a wink and a nudge and a check to the right foundation. Then he slogged through six pricey, yet ultimately fruitless, years of college on a Communications major and a transcript full of C’s and D’s: the grades you got for showing up, more or less.

Yes, Daniel was a survivor, too… the truly pitiful kind. The cockroach who never quite got stomped out.

“Well, I’m more of a common sense kind of guy, anyway,” he declared. “As long as I don’t light myself on fire or fall asleep on a park bench at 5 a.m., I’ll be alright.”

[tiny_dancer81]

Theresa snorted, then covered her mouth with her hand. "Yeah, fire is bad. It's the reason my moron of a sire isn't here anymore. He got on someone's bad side, and they lit him up."

Watch check. One forty five. Fifteen minutes and ThunderCats were go. She hoped the car's owner was male, and that he wasn't too fat or ugly. Even she had her standards. She craned her neck so she could see over the lip of the parking deck, watched taxis picking up late night fares. Then she faced Daniel again.

"So where do you go to party? I'm looking to move into The Hart, but I have to get some cash together first. Vegas is a lot like Hollywood, you just have to know where the rich types hang out."

[daniel_stacy]

“Recently a series of gay bars,” he said. “My sire is strictly chickly.”

Oh. That made him sound like one of those dudes who didn’t have his own social life, just an extended network of acquaintances via his more popular and better looking friend.

So how did Daniel like the party? His inner rich boy rebelled against the idea of Vegas nouveau glitz. He gravitated to dirty bars where the down-and-out washed up, where on any given night, you could take a seat on a stool next to some guy named Sal and throw darts and bitch about women, then get trashed and puke in a stall. His cause was helped by the decline of Las Vegas, the city that law enforcement had bent over a barrel and screwed in the ass in a previous decade of mob roundups.

“Well, I like dives,” he said. “The scuzzier, the better. I don’t do all this.” He twirled his finger at their surroundings. “Any meal I order here is take-out. But I can see how a dive would be counter-productive for you. What do you do when you're not--”

Uh...


"Meeting clients?"

[tiny_dancer81]

"Really."

Now that was interesting, and Theresa's spine straightened as she pulled herself out of the slouch she'd assumed. One foot kicked restlessly at the Lincoln's fender, and she laced her fingers together in her lap. She went with older guys because the Lolita thing never really went out of fashion, but that was work. On the occasions she had sex for pleasure, when she wanted someone who could potentially get her off, she was girls-only. Maybe she should hang close with Daniel for a week or two.

"I like to play blackjack, but the security there is really anal," she said with distaste. "I have an ID, and they've carded me every time I try to order a drink. Hotels are different, but casinos are really strict." She looked down at her lap. "I do like to get out and shake my ass at a dance club. With the days so long, I have to wait until its safely dark to venture outside, but I can dance til dawn."

He was right, though, a dive would have been counter-productive, because she had to get out and be seen if she wanted to get a few regular clients. They probably didn't have movie stars in Vegas, but they must have some kind of social strata. "Where do you crash when you sleep?"

[daniel_stacy]

“Basement apartment,” he said. “Cheap digs and I’m not exactly complaining about the lack of natural light. It’s loud on street level but I could sleep through a nuke.” Daniel adjusted the strap of his watch. He hadn’t cared much for telling time when he was alive, but since it meant the difference between a nice long nap and a fiery personal inferno, he was trying to turn over a new leaf.

“Hey… what’s a good club if I wanted to… take a girl out? Dancing,” he clarified.

Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing having Theresa around. The female perspective without the snark. No way in hell he’d ask Deanna a question like that, especially now that he knew she tried to get up Holly’s skirt.

[tiny_dancer81]

The brunette's eyes rolled towards the concrete ceiling of the parking deck while she thought it over, and when she re-focused on Daniel she said, "The Funhouse. Two-drink minimum, reasonable cover charge, killer DJs. You kind of have to watch yourself in the men's john near last call, because the bouncers are serious about clearing people out when they close, but it's a real hot spot."

She couldn't ask for an intro to his sire, at least not quite yet, but if he had a couch to sleep on... "You're gonna think this is weird, but can I crash with you for a few days? I'm putting a nest egg together to get a real place, but I need to get some more bread. I can chip in if you need me to pay my own way."

[daniel_stacy]

Alright, that caught him off guard.

He reached up and squeezed the nape of his neck, then lifted his shoulders nonchalantly. “Yeah. Sure. Why the hell not?” Maybe there was something in it for Daniel, too. Five years vamped was a heck of a lot longer than eleven months. If he could pick her brain and glean any survival info, it’d be worth it for the next time D decided to use him as a body shield.

“It’s 1217 Flamingo. Jump in the elevator and hit ‘B’. Just…” He grimaced. “Just don’t bite the upstairs neighbors. You’re gonna want to because they're pricks but it’s more trouble than it’s worth.”

[tiny_dancer81]

"When I bite, it's usually in the afterglow."

Theresa had made a mental note of the address because she had nothing to write on, and this was a good sign. She did need a place to crash where she'd be safe and anonymous until she could get above ground, and she really did think Daniel was okay. She'd been green herself once, it wasn't a crime.

And this one probably wouldn't ask her to blow him for the privilege of sleeping on his sofa, not if he was wrapped up with some human.

"It's five minutes til two," the brunette told her companion. "I'm probably going to be out of here if the owner of this car turns out to be a straight male, so I can leave you to your dinner. Take their cash, leave the plastic. I hope you know at least that much."

[daniel_stacy]

He smirked. “I’m not a total idiot.”

Actually, he was, because half the time he forgot to strip their wallets.

Daniel pushed off the Dodge. “Adios." He saluted. "Good luck with your sales or your killing, whatever comes first.” He set off in the direction of the stairwell. Last call meant more than just wasted tourists; it meant tired employees meandering to their cars.

He had an appointment with the bottom level of the deck.

[tiny_dancer81]

She gave him a wave, then smoothed her hair into place. She really missed mirrors. If she got lucky, or let someone else get lucky, she'd have money for some new clothes. Party girls had to look good if they wanted to get paid.