[center][h1]Damian[/h1]
One Night in Hell Club
[/center]
[b]Day 1 (Arc 2): Around 7pm[/b][hr]

Before Mercy would have the chance to make a second get away, Damian would wrap a firm hand around her shoulder, his eyes narrowed in irritation as he picked her off the floor, his grip growing a tad [i]too[/i] tight as he somewhat struggle to regain his composure. The club was getting to him, stoking a relatively minor case of Vis depletion into feeling like something much worse than it was. Even now, as he glared down at the attempted sneak-in, he felt the slightest of tugs to sate his hunger right then and there. Luckily, he had more control than that and knocked it to the side, where it lay quiet, but never far from his mind. Instead, he took a deep breath, and tried talking to the girl again..

[color=Thistle]"Please don't run again. You're disturbing the other costumers. Now, I get why you might have run, but I'm not planning to through a young girl out into a snow storm in the dead of night, okay? Just come with me to my boss, and do it [i]quietly[/i] and we can work out getting you a ride home."[/color] Damian gave her an almost pleading look, the glow of his eyes fading ever so slightly as he rested some control back over himself. However, as he thought some more on the situation, a thought occurred. [color=Thistle]"Wait, How did you even get in here anyway?"[/color] The many size and shapes of licentia aside, there was no way someone this young looking would be able to get through those doors without some really good fake I.D., something told Damian that this most likely wasn't the case given her reaction. The whole thing suddenly seemed a lot more odd.

[color=Thistle]"What were you doing before I nabbed you, Ms. . . ?"[/color]

[@FallenReaper]