~~Antoinette~~
"Oh god oh god oh god."
Jack, trembling and ready to sweat — though thankfully unable without the blush of life — looked out over the crowd. The two of them were in Bloodlust, one of her fonder establishments to enjoy. The pulsing music, and the dark red lightning with the occasional white light strobe made for a combination of sinister, sexual, and theatrical visual stimuli. Everyone in Bloodlust felt as if they were partaking in a movie.
Everyone except her poor little Terry, who more likely envisioned himself trapped in a comedy for his current predicament.
The two of them sat on the ground floor this time, in one of the booths near the bar. Her lover was wearing a button-up white shirt, black pants, a loose, black jacket, and some nice Chelsea boots. She spoiled him with her shopping, and so did Julias, but the boy was utterly incompetent with fashion. That was ok, she enjoyed dressing her man. She had undone the first few buttons of his shirt as well, to expose his lovely skin and a little of his muscle. As much as her Jack felt self conscious over his size, he was a lean and strong little creature.
"You uh... really want me to do this?" he said, once he'd leaned in so he didn't have to yell. It was a club after all, and while perhaps not as loud as many, still loud.
"Yes. As we practiced." Winking, she pointed to the bar, and to one woman in particular. "She will make for fine prey."
"Ok... ok. Ok, I can do this, I can do this." He stood up, rubbed his buzzed hair a few more times, and walked toward the bar.
Oh her little Ventrue. He did not notice how he swayed a little with his walk, how he cast nervous glances, how every motion spoke volumes of his anxiety.
But he went, and that was something.
They had talked much, her and her love, about how to approach women. The art of eye contact, the subtle smile, the push and pull of body spacing. She explained to him how to thread conversations, pull a woman's — or man's if one wanted — interest into a story. How to break the ice with gentle humor, or with a tactful use of criticism; a little insult with a coating of intrigue worked well to disarm a stranger. She taught him how to look for signals that the boy seemed utterly blind to: adjusting the hair over the ear, turning to face you, smiling with the eyes.
It was a dance for women, and men did not learn it easily, Jack more so than most. But it was a skill she felt he should learn, and trusted him to learn. What would happen if Jack was left without enough vitae to perform the Ventrue discipline of domination? Unless he was willing to wrestle and pin a kine, seduction was the most common second option.
And besides, she found it oddly enjoyable to watch her love squirm as he approached the stranger. Perhaps she did have a bit of a sadistic side? How drôle.
The stranger was a woman of similar height to the little Ventrue, a sharp chin, and long blond hair with streaks of blue, though lost to the red light of the club. A thin thing, barely a curve to her, but Antoinette could see in the girl's posture, in how she sipped her drink and looked about, that she was an experienced woman. On the prowl, perhaps. She was wearing a black dress meant for a club, with a short skirt split at the thigh, and tiny straps for shoulders. Simple, elegant, but sexy and refined. She knew what she liked. The perfect prey for Jack.
Jack, fidgeting and squirming, stood beside her and met her eyes. The stranger returned them, and looked him up and down for a second. The face first, and then the shoes. She liked what she saw, as Antoinette knew she would, and she turned to face the boy more. Eye contact, with one brow raised. Just a hint, just a small thing, but the Prince could see the spark of intrigue in the woman's face as she looked little Terry in his green, beautiful, honest eyes. She was interested in him, his cuteness, in how odd he looked in the setting of a club.
Jealous, Annie?
Daeva are jealous of everyone and everything; curse of her bloodclan, to desire. She knew better than to let it control her. And Jack needed to learn.
Jack rubbed his buzzed hair, and made a remark, something about the music from what little Antoinette could read of his lips. Of course. But it was enough to make the girl laugh, and she turned to face him fully, still in her seat. And as she laughed again following another remark, Jack laughed, and reached out to lightly touch her hand in the sharing of laughter.
And that was it. A little physical contact from someone you thought was appealing, intriguing, and it was over. As long as Jack did not say anything colossally offensive or foolish, the girl would grow more and more fond of him, until he could deliver the twist: he had a lover, and was looking for someone to join them.
Perhaps an unnecessary trick in his bag, now that she was watching him. The plan had been for him to use Antoinette as a spicy treat for an interested kine, to propose a threesome for them to enjoy. And once the prey was in their booth, she would be easy to drink. But the Prince had chosen their target well, and Jack's disarming, genuine dialogue and expressions were working beautifully.
Her eyes jumped from her love to the door past them, and her joy faded away. The evening was coming to a short end then. Such a shame.
Daniel. The man could not have looked more out of place, still in his trench coat, still wearing his dull glasses. If only he would listen to her, and dress for his outings. But no, the stubborn man refused to listen. It was charming, in an infuriating way.
He walked past everyone at the bar, past the various tall tables with people standing around, drinking, talking. Not even a glance for the kine. Her sheriff walked past the booths and into the main area, where the booths lined the walls before the dance floor. Annie laughed at the image of Daniel dancing. Could he? Was it something the machinery of his mind could perform? More chuckles.
Jack didn't notice him, too busy with his prey; they were both quite enraptured with their conversation. The boy looked elated, shocked by the ease of his task no doubt. Perhaps she had unlocked a new, social side to him? Alas, it would fade she was sure, once they left the club. But, that was a good thing, was it not Annie? As much as you wish to teach him the skills he needs to survive, less time spent seducing kine, more time spent with you, was a good thing.
Or are you just concerned he will become another Tony?
Daniel sat down next to her, adjusted his glasses, and set his elbows upon the table, fingers netted together and placed under his nose. Ready for war by the looks of him, but that was as always with her sheriff.
"Yes Daniel?"
"Annie. Azamel has returned."
Straight to the point then. Antoinette sighed and combed her hair back.
"Azamel has returned? Why?"
"I don't know. She says she wants to talk to you personally, in her home."
Her home? Another leech content to suckle on the marrow of Antoinette's hard work, of her city, of her triumphs.
"She has gall."
