It happened slowly, like a drip. One man walked up casual, cool, and propped his back against the brick and mortar of which gave the Sunset Lounge is tangibility. A Hispanic wearing black, tattoos, and attitude so obvious no words were necessary. He greeted the next man with no more than a side glance and faint upward nod of his head; this one wearing black with a stiff billed cap that read 'COMPTON' in script, black tattoos on black skin, and attitude that matched the first, walking up like the sidewalk was his personal V.I.P., his throne a lazy sit on the curb. Two became six in a few minutes; by ten minutes it was ten. Five minutes later there was twenty, barks of laughter errupting after crude jokes and high volumed chatter. 

Eyes from within Sunset were starting to dart to the windows, to the crowd covering the view, nervous words from the paranoid and the unsure spoken quietly. The street bounced with the thunder of a beat, the bass of a thousands of dollers sound system growing like a distant storm grown closer, and closer; rattling the Sunset's windows, walls, and doors. More laughter from the curb, from the crowd, hoopin', hollerin'--

--and then nothing. Silence.

The first figure through the door was anything but gangsta; looking like a good little Ivy league girl turned runaway Calvin Klein model, soft brown eyes and pale skin scanned the main room with quickness, a tiny smile creasing her glossed lips even quicker as she stepped in. The door moved again, a man of medium height, broad shoulders, sun baked Mexican skin, and long straight black hair came after. There was nothing particularly noteworthy about the man, clothes well worn in; jeans loose fit, old work boots, a simple gray tee under an old work coat, the presence of a construction worker wandering in the wrong place looking for an after work beer. There was no look to the room, only eyes on the girl that came in before, stopping near the door just behind and to the right of her, hands stuffed in the pockets of his coat. 

The two whispered words, before she moved for the bar, the man at her heels. Perfume hit the room even as the door began to swing open, before pausing mid-swing, held up, paused, a woman's loud, happy, laughter ringing between the street and the room beyond the half-open door. Blonde, busty, California sun tanned skin flip flopping in, a loud [i]pop[/i] echoing through the Sunset Lounge as bright pink bubblegum was bubbled, popped, and chewed again through a wide grin. Big bright green eyes hidden behind mirrored Aviators immediately on the bar, a neon pink short sleeved croptop, sun bleached denim shorts short enough to show off her long, toned, legs as she moved to the first two, whispering in the girl's ear before her grin went wicked, slipping off to the touch screen jukebox, head tilted as she quick fire flipped through a few screens to arrive a song. "Imagine," by Snoop Dogg, featuring Dr. Dre. 

The first note coincided with the door opening once more, a large black man with rocks in either ear, black-on-black leather AJ1's under black baggy jeans with a crease in either leg, the black and silver of the old L.A. Raiders hanging from immense shoulders, thickly muscled arms holding the door open behind him, a blank stare turning focused on the tall blonde, lips refusing to smile even as the blonde's grin dared him. The next figure moved in quickly, walking with purpose, heels clicking against the Sunset Lounge floor, tight fit blue jeans, pale gray metallic blouse under a white linen blazer, simple gold chain hanging from the neck, red glossed lips under saucer brown eyes under long layered salon styled auburn hair that shadowed in the indirect light of the lounge until she neared the bar, slowing her purposeful steps to a stop. It wasn't perfume that filled the air around her, it was presence; the presence of an Elder, the undeniable electricity in the air that came with such power. 

At the bartender, she stared, until the black shadow behind her said something softly to her, stealing a quick glance from her, before he moved off to booth in the back that the blonde had loudly proclaimed her own, his eyes cold as they stuck to the other set of "Elders" collected off to the side. Threats with no words, no heated violence, only cold blooded killing. A Brujah, unlike the working class Lasombra, preppy small Ventrue, and the two Toreadors; the blonde, and the dark featured beauty of an Elder that strolled in after them all. 

The crowd outside grew back to a chatter, but it was dim, only the occasional burst of laughter now, the tension of a guard dog holding over them. 

"Eva," the small Ventrue called the Elder in designer clothes, pulling out a smartphone and turning to the woman, a few whispers and the phone was at the girl's ear as she, too, moved away from the bar to the booth staked out by the blonde. That left only the quiet dark skinned man with the impossibly straight, jet black, hair that stopped just above his ass. He turned his head just to the left, eyeing Eva, as she stepped up to the bar and slipped onto a stool, pushing aside the remains of a newspaper to the far corner of the main bar of the Sunset Lounge, amusement and the direct lights from above the bar illuminating her eyes now. 

"Hello Henry; a round of Dos Equis Dark, bottled, to the back booth please? Thanks." She slipped from the stool as quickly, as easily, as she'd slipped onto it, the long haired man stepping after her, curiously, shy, as he looked around the room to see the faces.