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[b]9:01pm, Before the Concert, at [i]The Dorian Jazz Lounge[/i][/b][hr]
	The chips were fast gone from existence as Vitek ate quickly. He knew no other way. He let the drink sit for a time however and stared into the fathoms. Thoughts of his new home, his old life, why public transit was a modern mess, really anything that caught his fancy take him away. It was nice. He sat for a few minutes as patrons began to enter, some giving him a wide berth. It bothered him not at all. 

Vitek's citrus-induced dream suddenly caught a familiar wiff of something, someone, else. He almost snorted in surprise and tried to shrink his large body into a mere pup on a stool. For a brief second he store down the clear glass that he had been so infatuated with. Suffice to say the sudden lurch in emotion was Vitek's response to being caught in the cookie jar. His fellow newblood was just about to enter the door if his nose was right. So Vitek braced himself for the kinship antics that had kept him guessing these last few weeks. Not that he minded, but the man had a way of just popping up on the oblivious. What would tonight's discussion be? It was the first time he'd been followed into this bar, least by a comrade.  

	As the door shifted open it let in the beginnings of a winter chill. It was brief, but made the large man stiffen upright and stop his silly hiding in pubic. The Swede turned finishing his swig, to the door. Yes, it was his friend Kaelen alright, most of his dark locks hung over his lesser eye at the moment and it bore his lithe frame dangerously. However, staring through the bottom off the glass, the kaleidoscope of fruit turned his grin into a funhouse mirage. Vitek chuckled, a rarity for him, and sat down the empty glass. Surely the two beasts would enjoy this new nightstrike into the void they called life. He turned half around fully to greet the tracker that had sought him out with his back now to the bar, his arms on his knees perched and ready. 

[color=0054a6]"You know, one of these days I will follow [b]you[/b]."[/color] he spoke in a graveled mock tone he couldn't hold for long. Not without a sly grin and a waving motion for the man to sit next to him. [color=0054a6]"My lemonade is grand, but [i]monsieur[/i], have you eaten?"[/color]