[b]Michele, Nicolaus, Elizabeth, and more booze to take the edge off[/b]
[i][sub]collab between [@Howler] & [@Rawk], leading up to “Lupine Breakers”[/sub][/i]
 
Elizabeth stood for a moment with her mouth agape, unsure of how to respond to the girl’s last comment, until the alcohol that had been streaming through her veins and rearranging her frontal cortex, decided for her. “Holy fuck you’re not a guy in drag at all!” Her voice started out a bit on the high side in the excitement, eventually leveling out. “In fact, you’re much better looking from this vantage point than over [i]there[/i]. She motioned to the booth halfway across the room at the top of the stairway landing, her vampire companion preoccupied in a conversation with one of the waitresses.

“But...anyway, this isn’t so much a social call as it is...” Liz twisted up her lip and furrowed her brow as though she were in deep thought. “a ‘business proposition’, I suppose you could call it.” She reached for the second shot glass full of Cuervo and knocked it back before placing it down onto the bar top, her expression giving off a sour vibe as she swallowed the liquor.

“Actually...I’m not really sure what I’d call it and, in fact, I don’t even know what it’s all about.” She smirked as though amused at her own ignorance, suddenly catching herself on the barstool from almost falling, yet continuing her conversation without missing a beat. “But, what I do know is that my friend over there has a bit of news that might interest you.” The woman leaned in closer to Michele. “And your kind.” She whispered with a mocking wink and smile that said [i]”I’m as funny as a hat full of assholes”[/i].

...yup. It was that time of night again. There came a point in every trip out where some drunk asshole would decide it was a good idea to poke fun at Michelle. She’d heard it all before at this point--this would make time, what, seven that she got called a dude?--but it never made it any less ha-ha-hilarious. Fortunately they were in one of the few locations that Michelle wasn’t allowed to deck someone and, admittedly, the someone happened to be attractive enough and drunk enough that there were better responses to be made. But no, it wasn’t a social call. It never was, but then again why would it be? Did she fucking [i]look[/i] like a social person?

But alright. [i]Her kind[/i], then. Why the fuck not.

Draining her own drink with the Elizabeth’s tequila breath in her ear, Michelle set the glass down with a clink of ice and stood wordlessly. In the same motion she wrapped an arm around the drunk gypsy’s waist and hauled her up as well, the werewolf pulling equal shifts walking her over and propping her up on the unceremonious way to the vampire in--Christ, how did they [i]all[/i] manage to sit in the back of the room?

“You dropped this.” She was killing it on introductions today, depositing the arm candy opposite the Ventrue only to slide in next to her. A bony butt-bump later and she even had herself a bit of sitting room.  “So what do you want?”

If there had ever been a time Nicolaus begged for the ability to simply “switch off” his acute sense of smell -and perhaps to a lesser extent, taste- it was certainly now, catching the raw odor that permeated off the Lupine even before she and Elizabeth made it to the foot of the stairway leading up to the booth. It was a scent that, in it’s subtle own way, was as repulsive as a wet dog who’d previously rolled around in it’s own excrement before waltzing into its master’s house, muddy paws and all. It had been almost a year since he was around another Garou, at least within enough of a radius to sense their presence, and yet the initial shock to the senses never seemed to fully diminish. Perhaps if the Ventrue hung around their [i]Glasswalker[/i] counterparts more often, they’d come to appreciate the aroma...

The vampire masked his internal disgust with a friendly smile. “Thank you for joining us, Ms. Darrens.” He nodded. “And, of course, for escorting the lovely lady back to me.” 

The Romani woman gave the Ventrue a sarcastic smirk in response, sliding closer to him only to lay her alcohol-heavy head onto his squared off shoulder, slowly allowing her eyes to close as her lover continued. 

“Let me first ask...have you ever been aware that Sabbat anarchs were holding a sort of ‘fight club’ in various parts of the city, perhaps even the outskirts?”

“That’s my Thursday night you’re talking about.”

Oh look, another gorgeous vampire in more gorgeous clothes. Fucking Hollywood. Did they only turn people that were pretty, she wondered, or did they just turn pretty after they died? She was pretty convinced the ugly ones were a different species somehow, like cockroaches and butterflies both technically being insects, but that was besides the point. Breathing out and kneading the bridge of her nose, she tried to shake off the alcohol and the edge that was crawling back through her fingers and forearms and deal.

“No, I usually have bigger things to worry about than dead people beating the tar out of each other. What, you want a ringer or something?”

Her initial response pique his interest, slightly raising an eyebrow under the false hopes that the Garou participated in these beatings, and perhaps an easier entry into the next fight could be made. But, to his disappointment, her flavor and degree of sarcasm slipped under his radar when she’d concluded with the polar opposite. But perhaps…

“What if I told you that they recently acquired a few of your kind by means of a raid on tribal Caerns up in the Northwest.” Nico paused for a moment, allowing his words to sink in. “And from what I’ve been told, one of them is of a rare breed. So much so, that this [i]enslaved[/i] Garou is slowly becoming their champion. A real boon for a bunch of Sabbat shits…”

Nicolaus allowed a bit of edginess to slip out in those last few words, his loathing for the twisted Sect ever in the forefront of his mind.

‘No man left behind’ meant a lot to a lot of people. It didn’t to Michelle, but that didn’t mean that she could just leave another Garou to play punching bag for a bunch of neck biting assholes. Michelle might not have been on the best terms with the Garou Nation but that didn’t mean she wasn’t wrist deep in their enemies half the time, and she knew well enough that there weren’t enough of without losing a few to the Sabbat. Besides, walking in and killing everyone until they killed you practically [i]was[/i] Michelle’s Thursday night.

“I’d say point the way and get out of mine, but from the sound of it that’s already the plan.” She snorted wryly, leaning back to watch the pair of them. “So what do you want for it? Or is this out of the goodness of that heart of yours that probably dried up years ago?”

That was the inevitable question wasn’t it? And yet Nicolaus had already asked himself the same long before he’d decided on what to do with the vital information fed to him through his underground network. He struggled, in a sense, with whether or not there had to be any gain from this, and the answer did seem pretty obvious at first. Was he to aid the Camarilla in obtaining an ally who could very well be worth ten vampires? To bring this creature up to fight for a much worthier cause than that of the Sabbat and those who follow their dark path? Thereby increasing his [i]Dignitas[/i] and resources within clan Ventrue as well? The deep-seated desires never went away, as there was always something to gain at the expense of others. But, the more the vampire contemplated the entirety of the situation, the less desirable any form of a “reward” felt. How different would he have been from his hated enemy? Nicolaus knew all too well what it was like to have everything taken away from him in one fell swoop, and to deny the Garou a fair shake had no semblance of honor. Of course, there was the matter of a debt spanning countless years that he’d hoped to one day pay in full...

“Simply the satisfaction of knowing that the Sabbat assholes and their confederates are struck a hard enough blow, that they’re reeling from the aftermath for a long while.” He said with a gleam in his cobalt eyes, and a wry grin that partially revealed fangs thirsty for the blood of his foes. “But ultimately, Ms. Darrens…” The vampire’s smile disappeared. “The decision is yours, as I am merely the messenger.”

“Can’t reel when you’re dead.” She pointed out, her voice flat and dull as she watched the vampire and his human companion. This was their world, all glass and nightclubs and elegant suits, and hers was out in the guts and gore. She had no illusions--she was doing someone else’s work for them, ashing some asshole leech because some other asshole leech didn’t like him. That’s how vamps liked to do things, even that liked to get their face bloody like him. She could tell from his smile, from the coiling tattoo at his neck worn with meaning instead of some dumb fad that lingered post-mortem.

But there he was, dropping little hints and nudging her along. Some people never could get away from the trappings. The muscles in her forearms were crawling under the skin, making the inky tattoos dance as they coiled--she leaned on her elbows and slid her hands over them. If she were anyone else, the gesture might have looked demure.

“You going to give me an address, or would that be a bit too hands on?”