Diva Fever

[tiny_dancer81]

Despite the fact that it wasn't the weekend, the Funhouse was really crowded.

Theresa had been concentrating on business, work for the Dive. She'd gotten some flyers printed up on the cheap at Kinko's, then posted them at various places on the Strip. The local entertainment rag was on her second-hand coffee table back at her apartment. She had tentative plans to call their reviewer and ask them to come catch a show. Her trial period was almost over, and she wanted to be able to show Mike some improvement.

The diminutive vampire was currently out on the dance floor, having decided to relax tonight. She'd fed half an hour ago, coaxing someone into the girl's john to latch onto their wrist. This time, there'd been no blonde Slayer to interrupt her dinner.

Comments

[deannas]

Funhouse? Exactly what Deanna needed.

The scar on her neck was smaller, but still noticeable. She'd ordered room service at the Hart shortly after waking, but the tiny brunette was barely a snack in comparison to her voracious appetite.

If she was lucky (and when wasn't she? the vampire had game), then not only would she get her feed on, but also ride the bouncy castle.

The redhead wondered if the bathroom was a hall of mirrors. That could be fun.

She slid up to the bar and ordered three tequila shots. As the bartender poured, she took out and lit up a cigarette.

[tiny_dancer81]

The song changed from a fast, driving beat to a slower tune, and Theresa pushed her way off of the dance floor to get a drink. She was enough of a regular at this point that the bartender didn't card anymore, so getting a margarita wasn't an issue. She really wished she wasn't so short.

At the bar, Randall, the main server, gave her a wave as she approached. The vampire tossed cash in his direction and he set about mixing her drink. Her eyes idly scanned the people talking and laughing in the general vicinity.

She saw the hair first, and something in her silent chest lurched in recognition when she placed the face. She'd put on her best jeans and a form-fitting t shirt for tonight. This could be a pick-up spot, and she knew she looked damned good. Attitude mattered.

"Randall!" she said. "Randall, what's she drinking?"

"Shots."

Theresa snagged her glass, started to make the approach. The blue streaks in her hair were back. Attitude. Attitude and confidence.

[deannas]

Too boney.

Too serious.

Too tall.

Too...

There wasn't a word for what the girl in the corner was wearing, other than too much pink.

The thudding music had slowed, a small mercy. Her eardrum was sensitive as fuck. Still, she made sure to push her hair over it. If anyone was looking, they'd see a scar on her hand as well as her neck.

The redhead turned the palm over. She wondered if she could prevent the preternatural healing factor from completely removing the wounds, at least for a while. Having them reminded her that she'd been sloppy. Humans could be dangerous too. It was a hard lesson to learn.

Deanna downed the last shot of tequila and slammed the glass upside down on the bar. She was about to order another when she saw a tiny slip of a girl, black hair with blue, moving with purpose towards her.

It didn't take long to place the face.

The pixie from the elevator at the Skylark.

Just... right.

[tiny_dancer81]

Theresa didn't duck away from the look. Her shoes were new, a pair of Doc Martens that she'd splurged on. They didn't add much height, but at barely five feet tall anything was a help. There was an empty stool next to Deanna at the bar. The brunette's slight weight moved to occupy it.

'She'll get you staked.' Rhiannon's words tried to float to the top of her consciousness. She pushed them back under. What was unlife without a little danger?

"Hi. Again."

She'd seen the scars before she sat down, and up close it was clear that they were fading. The redhead had been tangling with someone. Not that it made her less of a knockout. If anything, it made her look tough, not just elegant.

"I'd hate to see the other guy."

[deannas]

She wanted to pick up the little slip of a thing and put her on the stool. It wasn't comical. Okay, maybe a little. But she was such a tiny little vampire. Like if she changed her face and charged at you, she'd bite your ankle.

'Forget pixie. Your new nickname is ankle biter.'

Deanna didn't mind ankle biters. Nope, not at all.

"He was stronger than he looked," the redhead replied matter-of-factly. "You remember the blonde slayer in the elevator? He's her boyfriend. Thought I'd send her a message. What I didn't expect," she took a long drag of her cigarette, "was him packing a bit of telekinesis."

The vampire thought a moment. "Theresa, right? You were... kinda chummy with that one slayer. Haven't switched teams, have you?"

[tiny_dancer81]

"I wouldn't call it chummy. The only reason I ever gave her my name was because she surprised me by not immediately trying to reduce me to ashes. I'd never even heard of Slayers until a little while ago."

So Blondie did have a boyfriend. A dangerous one, from the sound of it. He'd probably looked harmless at first. Theresa's eyes flitted to the scar on Deanna's neck.

"Did you at least take a chunk out of him in exchange?"

[deannas]

"I gave as good as I got," she replied. "Not to mention, he's gonna be sleeping with one eye open. Got his wallet and his address. Even better," Deanna leaned in conspiratorially, "I got Valerie's phone number on a piece of paper. Should be easy enough to trace it back to where she lives."

It was then the redhead noticed exactly what the diminutive vampire was drinking. "Nuh uh." She placed the cigarette between her lips and stole the Martguerita glass out of the girl's hand. "I don't know exactly how old you are, but you are old enough to drink properly."

She set the glass down on the bar and slammed her hand on the wood. "Barkeep! Three shots for the ankle biter and another three for me!"

Deanna sucked on the cigarette and blew rings into the air.

[tiny_dancer81]

Valerie. Somehow that was more girly than she had expected. Still, it was better than calling her Blondie all the time.

And Jesus, but that was hot, the way Deanna just snagged her drink out of her hand. She'd almost seen cleavage when the taller vampire had leaned in. Still, Theresa kept her cool. You did not jump in with a come-on with a fox like this. Even a street rat like her knew that.

Randall and the other bartender, whose name Theresa didn't know, switched places when the shots were brought over. The golden liquid caught the light, and it shimmered like lake water.

"Thanks. I'll get the next round if you want."

[deannas]

"Let's see if you can keep up."

Deanna was sure Theresa was checking her out. The girl had fed earlier, it provided a flush in her skin, and when the redhead had bent forward to take away the previous drink, she was sure the ankle biter tried to look down her blouse.

Deanna dragged on the cigarette before dropping a bit of ash in the tray by the pretzels. Time to test a theory. She undid a button on her blouse.

[tiny_dancer81]

Oh. Oh, yes.

Theresa did look, but she shuttered it before turning to where the shots had been set out and picked up the first glass. The tequila went down smooth, set up a muted burn in her stomach. Not saying the first filthy thing that occurred to her was giving the fact that she had no filter a test.

The brunette put the empty shot bottom-up on the bar, slouched attractively on her stool. Her boot heels hooked onto the bottom rung. When she felt like she could at least try to be subtle (confidence was one thing, crudity was another) she turned back towards Deanna and made eye contact.

"What do I get if I manage to keep up? Is there a prize?"

[deannas]

Deanna couldn't help but laugh. The ankle biter had zero game. It was cute.

"You get my phone number," she offered. "Maybe."

[tiny_dancer81]

Deanna's laugh made Theresa duck her head, but it sounded genuinely amused rather than cruel. The brunette had learned a fair amount about sex in a relatively short time, but the courtship ritual was a mystery to her. She didn't know how to woo a woman, not a woman like this, anyway.

Still, she hadn't resorted to asking 'You wanna fuck?', so she was a step ahead of her usual game. Just a single step, though.

She picked up the second shot glass, knocked back the contents while the DJ changed records in his booth above the writhing dancers. There was no mirror behind the bar, so no one had ever noticed that she had no reflection.

The third hit of tequila went down Theresa's throat. Clunk went the glass, bottom up on the bar. She looked to see if Deanna was through with her latest round, then held up three fingers so Randall could see her hailing him.

"That gives me something to work towards, then. Everyone should have a goal."

[deannas]

Not only had the redhead done her shots, but she'd already waved a fifty dollar bill at Randall to bring the bottle.

"My goal," Deanna replied, "is to get shit-faced." After her run-in with the telekinetic, she needed something... lighter.

"And when I get drunk, my already loose morals tend to fly out the window."