Midsommer's Night Run

[cian_oneill]

It was almost as regular as clockwork, heading up to Searchlight on a Wednesday night for a few beers and a game or two. Cian went to the Golden Nugget, probably the most regular watering hole, for someone who didn't have regular places. Sometimes he went all the way to Vegas, but usually didn't bother. The noise of the big casinos usually hurt his ears, and the smell of fumes on the strip was something he could do without.

Like this Wednesday, when he just went up to the bar and ordered himself a beer, taking it over to a table and sitting down. After taking a long swig he leaned back in his chair, legs stretched out in front of him, as he continued to survey the other occupants of the place.

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[cian_oneill]

"Show 'n tell, huh? Haven't played that in a while," he drawled softly, eyes now with an unmissable glint of gold flecked in the green. He let her continue her hold on his arm, their skin in contact and her pulse detectable through her thumb resting on the back of his wrist.

"Probably easier t' show th'n tell," he continued, voice almost a soft purr. "Though I'm a mite careful about an audience." He glanced down at her fingers and back up at her face. "I've shown y' good faith, so you go first."

[rhiannon_lee]

The first time Rhiannon saw gold in his eyes, she thought it was a reflection. This time, she knew the source came from inside the man. The color reminded her of a tiger’s eye marble. “You’re a therianthrope,” she murmured, leaning farther across the table in doing so. She had encountered it before, this ability of a human to metamorphose into an animal, but which type did Cian have? She had known a werewolf, but that man possessed an entirely different vibe: predatory, bristly.

What could she show him? Having no physical change to display, the easiest objects were on her person. She let go of his wrist. Rhiannon tugged a cross necklace from within her t-shirt and let it settle on the cotton. Her knee was already above the table, so she rolled her pant leg up to show him the wooden weapon affixed to her lower leg.

“Any questions?”

[cian_oneill]

Cian's eyes narrowed a little at the sight of the weapon, but he quickly identified it and an eyebrow arched, the cross on the chain adding to the picture.

"Explains why y' wanted t' check m' pulse," he said, smiling as he added, "and here I thought y' were comin' up with a very original line!"

[rhiannon_lee]

Rhiannon’s own brand of mischief made her brown eyes sparkle. “Had your fingers crossed, did you?” She released her pant leg and lowered her boot to the floor. In a way, her status as a vampire slayer made them natural allies. It was common knowledge that animals tended not to like the undead and the trait often cropped up in were-creatures. She placed her fingertips around the rim of her beer glass and slid it closer.

[cian_oneill]

"Man's gotta have hope?" he replied, his amusement clear on his face. He lifted his glass, ready to take another swig. "Looks like we might get along better 'n I thought though, common enemies and all."

He drank from his glass, more than half the contents being downed in a barely discernible swallow.

[rhiannon_lee]

So it was true.

Rhiannon smiled and looked down. In six years of hunting on her own, she had learned that even vampires could make convenient allies or fascinating acquaintances. Nine-five percent of the time, she wanted them at the end of her stake, but the other five percent, well… it behooved her to keep an open mind to unique circumstances. She didn’t know if Cian was like her in that regard, but what he thought about her flexibility on the undead was of no concern.

“Yeah, plus a shared love of hunting and probably a few other things, such carnal creatures are we.” She tapped the side of her mug and feigned contemplation. “Or did I mean visceral?”

[cian_oneill]

"Don't much bother me one way or other," Cian replied, a small smirk curling the corner of his mouth. "It's actions speak louder 'n words in my book."

The remains of his glass were quickly gone, the basket of fries he'd ordered arriving as he lowered his glass. He hadn't been for a run for a while and to him a promise was a promise. It would just depend on whether she trusted him now, and whether her curiosity wanted satisfying. Or her meaning, identifying?

[rhiannon_lee]

In keeping with tradition, she stole one of his fries. “If you keep on knowing me, I think you’ll find I’m an action sort of girl.” Rhiannon might be wrong, but she thought she detected a minor chord in his personality: darkness tempered by decency. She hoped she was right. It seemed that those she responded to best weren’t squeaky clean, had perhaps been down ambiguous roads before and come out on generally the right side of things.

“Have you ever met someone like me before?” She folded her forearms on the table.

[cian_oneill]

"Not t' talk to," he admitted, tapping the basket till it was easier for her to reach. "There was someone, back in Ireland, who used t' be ... well, she was kept busy."

His 'demons' had all been human, and they were all laid to rest now, not directly by him, but his message had been made clear to each of them. And were the reason he'd left Ireland.

"Heard o' y' kind out here, murmurs and whispers, dark alleys and the places normal folk don't venture if they're smart."