THE OCCULT: Welcome to Haven [IC]

[Bears]

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THE BLUE ROOM NPCs: Olskeg

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A lone figure stalked through the streets of Redlight, his bulky frame barely protected from the downpour by a cheap hooded jacket. The figure turned into a small nightclub, the bright neon blue sign hanging above the door reading The Blue Room.

He turned immediately to the bar and motioned for the hard stuff. The bulky man downed the glass of straight whiskey quickly, his skin a ghastly green. Nobody paid no mind though. The burning sensation of alcohol in his throat was accompanied by a peculiar scent that transcended all the rest clogging up the human club. The green skinned figure's nose crinkled as he looked over his shoulder. It was the singer.

The figure got up and moved his way through the crowd. He had heard his fair share of tales from his kin about the Watchers...but if her scent was any indication maybe their blood did taste the sweetest. Fortune must have been on the Orc's side to have discovered her out of pure happenstance. His stared at her, the malicious glint in his eyes, telling of the horrors he'd love to put a human through.
​

I'll be seeing you
In all the old familiar places
That this heart of mine embraces
All day and through
In that small cafe
The park across the way
​

Black satin pooled around her feet, sequins shimmering in the stage light, a contrast to the matte finish of the feathered boa around her slender shoulders. The gown hugged every curve of Erzsabet Saint James as though it had been sewn directly onto her form. Between rounded nails, lacquered a deep shade of crimson, she cupped a silver microphone with the tenderness of a lover, burgundy lips so close they almost kissed the metal. The smoky alto of the Nightingale filtered through the crowded nightclub, a warm, sultry hum that cancelled out all other sounds…
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I'll be seeing you
In every lovely summer's day
In everything that's light and gay
I'll always think of you that way​

This was her world, her element. A queen of the stage, of the night, and that particular evening she was earning her crown. It was an anniversary of sorts, a solemn, miserable occasion, and it was all that Erzsabet could do to pour herself into the music, into the personae she presented to the throng of patrons. It was all she could do to forget…​

I'll be seeing you
In every lovely summer's day
In everything that's light and gay
I'll always think of you that way​

I'll find you in the morning sun
And when the night is new
I'll be looking at the moon
But I'll be seeing--​

With a jarring halt, she stopped, her grip on the microphone tensing as her eyes froze on a face in the crowd. He wore a horrible, twisted mug, a sickly greyish green, teeth poking out from a disjointed jaw, eyes… glinting in the light like an animal, as they stared up at the stage with unfettered prurience. It wasn't the first she had seen… but it was the closest she had come to one of them, and with a pang of painful anxiety behind her chest bone, she stepped back, away from the microphone as the band behind her slowed to an awkward stall.

"...Betty?" The voice came from Louie Belton, who stared at her from behind the piano, his face a mask of concern.

"Take five…" Betty murmured, "Then go on without me. I… I'm not feeling well." She didn't wait for Louie to respond, but could hear him addressing the audience as she turned away from the crowd and made her way through the stage exit into the back hallway. Her dressing room was small, but comfortable, with a fixed vanity, filling the space with light and a plush chaise sofa. Her stage wardrobe hung on a rack, and beside it a paneled screen for changing.

Closing the door behind her, Betty breathed out, clutching a hand to her chest. Stress… It was all just stress…It had to be. She pushed off the door to cross the room, mere seconds before it shattered to splinters.​

A collaboration with @Elle Joyner || tags: @Niiwa @Spectre of the Fade​

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THE ALLEYWAYS OF REDLIGHT NPCs: Alucard De Luca

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The sense of a Watcher seeing past the Grey was one that only the most experienced of witches and warlocks could feel. It was a subtle sort of feeling--just the sudden sense of something in the atmosphere shifting, changing. It was a sense that the warlock sitting in a black chevrolet convertible had reported to the heads of the Roswell family just hours prior.

The meeting that was to occur was one that was unprecedented. The Roswell's were reaching out for an alliance. Alucard shook his head at the thought. It was absolutely scandalous. Alongside Dio, the warlock was to see that the Cartel was happy with the terms of the agreement.

Devil's Tongue would find a consistent place to be sold and distributed in the Roswell's brothels and and in exchange the Cartel would give the the crime family more access to the Underground--effectively giving them the ability to move throughout the city quicker than the entirety of their enemies. Oh and there was also the fact that they agreed to mutually snatch some Watchers...but Alucard personally stopped needing reasons after Devil's Tongue. That drug was just...invigorating.

The tattooed warlock's thoughts were interrupted when he heard the sound of a door closing. He turned to his side and rolled down the passenger to see Dio approaching his vehicle. He smiled widely. "Hurry your ass up, leprechaun! We got some money to make!"

If the leprechaun was annoyed by his companion-to-be, his demeanor betrayed none of it. Alucard was outspoken where Dio was withdrawn, an explosion where the leprechaun was an implosion. Forces in their own rights, but markedly different. Sidling in had been uncomfortable, but at least the leprechaun didn't hit his head on the way into the passenger side. "You should carry yourself more appropriately for the Cartel. Have you been indulging?"

Curious. Dio had not even glanced once upon Alucard's face.

"You can't tell me you haven't at least tried it, Dio o'buddy of mine." Alucard laughed heartily. The warlock had always been the type to juxtapose his powers with his personality. He was also the type to drive recklessly--and fast.

"Mmm. The first time you take Devil's Tongue it hurts like hell. But afterwards? Oooh afterwards...it's a high like you've never experienced before." Alucard elaborated with great enthusiasm as the car tore through the rain spattered streets. "You should see what that shit does to the humans who find themselves in the Underground though."

He whistled long and low before taking his eyes off the road to narrow them towards the leprechaun. "Oh wait...I forgot. You married a human didn't you? That's real sweet of you. Dumb as shit--but real sweet. They are just so fragile..."

The speed in which Dio brought his cane to bear upon the warlock's knuckles was - predictably - inhuman. Glancing, insubstantial, but significant in its own right. His visage remained mostly impassive, but a tangible line of tension caressed his jaw. The Roswell's thought that Alucard brought out the best in Dio.

Which, of course, meant that he brought out the worst in Dio.

"I hope, for our sake," Dio responded, tone level, "that you will approach our discussions with the Cartel with significantly more tact."

He withdrew the ebony cane, placing it horizontal upon his lap. "That neither of us are true vampires of the family may already be seen as an affront."

"I'm sure the demons won't mind when they see their blood making piles and piles of cash." The warlock snorted, his facial tattoos wrinkling along with his nose. He turned up the radio and let the voice of Crosby fill up the ensuing silence. He decided he was done pushing Dio, for now.

The convertible turned into a secluded alleyway--the bright headlights illuminating the backstreet before them. Alucard left the engine on while he stepped out. He opened an umbrella for himself and moved over to lean casually against the hood.

"Now we just gotta wait for the demons..." The warlock explained as his companion joined him in the rain.​

A collaboration with @Shizuochan || tags: @Justin The Mad King​

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GRAND CENTRAL STATION NPCs: Mikael Caldwin

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The Grand Central Station--as it's name implied--was certainly grand. Iconic, beautiful and known for its main concourse, it was a focal area of New York City with hundreds and hundreds of different people passing through by the hour. Unsurprisingly enough, the supernatural tended to avoid this area of the city if they could. Being stuck in a sea of the mundane could become a bit...disorienting after all.

With great displeasure, Mikael Caldwin stood outside of the station, taking refuge from the ever-pouring rain underneath a black umbrella. The vampire was the utmost image of classiness. His shiny back hair was slicked back into a business man's haircut and his tall lean form was framed in a tuxedo that simply screamed decadence and refinement. His jawline was masculine and his skin flawless. Unbeknownst to human, his canines were sharply pointed and his eyes' true color was a dark and murky red.

His thin rose tinted lips curved downwards into a tight frown when he inspected the watch wrapped around his wrist.

The last few trains would arrive at the station soon but that damned wolf was no where to be found. After all the trouble he went through in order to wake up that wretched red haired deputy Mikael had hoped the urgency of the situation would make the werewolf a little snappier on his feet.

But Mikael should have known better. Sheriff Blacklaw's kind weren't particularly known for their promptness after all. The vampire's eyebrows furrowed at the thought of those dogs. How the Council let a creature of that blood into the Sheriff position was absolutely beyond him.

The vampire shook his head before he turned for towards the door. He had more important matters to attend to than questioning the Sheriff Office's respectability.

There was a foreign Watcher aboard one of the trains. A previously unheard of occurrence and one that his bosses quickly took interest in. Mikael was tasked with seeing that the Watcher was delivered to the top floor of New Haven rather than the Sheriff's Office. At the very least Abraham's lack of an appearance would make that task easier for him.

The vampire soon found himself waiting among a crowd of humans at one of the sectioned arrival areas. He crossed his arms and clicked his tongue with great annoyance. The Watcher had better arrive soon he thought.​

tags: @Tyrannosaurus Rekt @XC ​

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THE LEXINGTON HOTEL NPCs: Harvey Romano

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The Lexington was one of the finest hotels Manhattan had to offer. A sanctuary for the rich and affluent, the grand building was one decorated with dramatic gold accents. Grand chandeliers lined the ceiling and only the finest furniture graced the floor. It was no surprise to Harvey that Connie had chosen to hide away here. His lady always had remarkable taste.

It only made sense to Harvey that the letter he had sent to her earlier that day was one worthy of such a sophisticated beauty. The envelope was silver, fringed and held together by the wine red seal of her family. His words were honeyed, apologetic and handwritten in inked cursive. In the letter he asked her for her forgiveness along with an opportunity to explain the deceit. He booked her a late evening reservation at the five star dining hall of the Lexington in hopes they'd talk over some wine.

He also reaffirmed the fact that he loved her like no other and asked her if she still felt the same way about him.

Regardless, Harvey Romano would not let any of this Watcher business get in the way of him learning the answer to that question. The Occult and their Sheriff could very well try whisking away his woman but neither he or the Ambroses would rest until she was returned to them. He was certain of that.

Those were type of thoughts that entertained the vampire as he sat comfortably in the back of his Plymouth. With a cigar held loosely between calloused fingers and three other Ambrose enforcers accompanying him, Harvey hoped that he wouldn't have to resort to violence once he arrived at the Lexington. He wasn't the only one chasing after Connie though.

Harvey had no doubts that there would be the Occult deputies involved now that his fiancee' had awakened, but he wasn't worried. His hand brushed over a pair of black suitcases on the floor of his car in thought. He was prepared to do whatever was necessary to bring her home. ​

tags: @Mundane Monster @Effervescent @BearEnthusiast

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SCENE OBJECTIVES: [spoili] Introduce your characters in the scene they are tagged in. If you need any help with direction or would like to collaborate with me on your post hit me up with a PM.[/spoili]​

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[XC]

[fieldbox="Grand Central Station - New York City, grey, solid"]Theodore was dressed his best when he disembarked from the boat, the model of a good soldier. Except it was a different sort of uniform he wore, the attire of those that fought a different fight. Watchful eyes observed as they milled about, all clad in similar variations of the same set of clothes. Rushing here, there and everywhere, like they were running out of time. They were, of course, but it was always nice to put things into perspective. All his worldly possessions were packed into a single suitcase. Two sets of clothes, toiletries, rolls of cash, and what he wore. The past decade had taught him to pack, move and live light. Anything else could be acquired on-the-go.

It was like London, in a way - New York City. Just without the history. Without the stones that had seen the blood of kings, without the ravens that guarded the city's ancient power. Everything was new. Concrete and tar, glass and metal. London, without the shadows on the wall.

He stood in the packed carriage on the train - the Subway, they called it here - and he was glad. His eyes were closed, and he basked in the familiarity that surfaced through the the gaps in the differences. A city was a city, even if it came in a different flavour. Opening his eyes, the lines outside the door broke themselves into words. Grand Central Station.

He felt like a ghost, a spectre of dust and smoke blown along by winds unknown, but that was the whole point of this. The last time he looked across the Pacific, lines that had been drawn as he watched were being reinforced with walls and barbed wire; things that he had long tired of seeing, but knew that he would see again.

Alighting from the train, Theodore allowed himself to be swallowed up by the crowd, a lone leaf swept in the flood that poured forth from the gantries, until he felt the itch. It was an unease that bordered upon dread, a sensation that manifested itself where his spine met his skull that pulled his attention across the crowd.[/fieldbox]

 

[Niiwa]

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REDLIGHT: THE BLUE ROOM

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florence & malcolm[/hr][/hr]​

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Florence was disheveled, or at least, more disheveled than she usually was. She had been rushed out of her apartment so fast this morning that she barely had time to stuff some lavender in her pants pocket before dashing to pick up Malcolm. A hastily-scrawled note was clutched in her hand, the ink already smearing on the page from her rough treatment of it. Malcolm had already been waiting for her before they boarded her vehicle - a generously dented Ford Convertible that was almost a decade old - and drove off towards the watcher's location. The Blue Room.

Florence sighed heavily as she took a corner just a little too close and a little too fast, causing a pedestrian to take a nervous step back in fear. Bright neon lights whizzed past the vehicle, giving Florence's skin a veritable rainbow of unnatural hues. She ran a hand through her tangled hair, blowing about in the wind, before remembering that she wasn't driving alone for once, and shifted the car down a gear. She had the top up to avoid the rain, but had left down the window enough to spare her passenger the smell of dead flesh mixed with lavender - something that may pass at a distance, but not in these close quarters. The pale girl glanced over at Malcolm, and gave him an apologetic grin. "Sorry," she mumbled. "I'm just, uh… Excited? Nervous. I dunno, this is kinda a crazy situation." The car paused for a moment as she glanced down the streets of an intersection, trying to remember where to go.

Malcolm, sitting in the passenger seat with a far deeper scowl than usual, hummed his agreement with Florence's statement. A crazy situation, indeed. He'd had barely ten minutes to get ready after receiving the call, nowhere near enough time to do his hair and get into one of his suits. So, Malcolm was dressed casually; a soft, gray, cable-knit sweater that one would never see him in at the office, slacks in a darker gray that complimented the sweater nicely, and solid black Oxfords. He looked...Fine. Acceptable. Yet, he felt practically nude out in public in such casual attire.

"I wish I'd had time to get dressed properly," the warlock murmured after a moment, fingers stroking over his well-styled hair. Propriety demanded that he respond to Florence's statement, but privacy demanded that he didn't give away the nervous pounding of his heart or the doubts running through his mind. He occupied himself by staring out at the streets around them, trying to keep his mind off his nervousness as much as his partner's driving. "The Blue Room is a human club, isn't it?"

Florence gave out a small snort at Malcolm's lamentations about his lack of 'proper dress', but it still made her feel a little self-conscious. Her own style certainly wasn't the most appealing look, but then again, neither was she; it was a good enough excuse for her to not obsess over it. She pulled down another street, tapping her unused foot erratically as she held her speed in check. "I think ya look spiff 'n span, there, Malcolm. You'll make a great first impression." Probably why we got partnered up to begin with, she finished in her head.

She nods as she eyes the street sign. Just a few more blocks. "Think so. Don't go out too often myself, and when I do it's definitely not to one of those places. Makes sense that a Watcher would, though, I suppose." Florence glances at Malcolm slyly. "You frequent the human parts of the city much? Or at least been to this part of town?"

Brows furrowing downward, Malcolm turned his head towards Florence, surprised and confused by the compliment. She didn't understand, Malcolm didn't have the luxury of dressing casually because he'd been born a- bah, it didn't matter. She meant well and she wasn't privy to the pressure he put on himself because of his upbringing. His eyes trailed back to the streets around them, focus on the signs flashing past. "Thank you," he finally breathed, the words as stiff as the starched collars of his suits.

"Not recently," he responded to her question about the Redlight district. Malcolm had his share of adventures here when he was younger and far more rebellious, but it'd been more than a couple of decades since here was here last. It had changed, just as the rest of New York City had. "It's very different. I'm not going to be much help if we need to make a quick exit, I'm afraid." Which, considering they were going to retrieve a Watcher from such a Supernatural-heavy area of the city, was a very likely possibility.

"Well, let's just hope we don't have to get out of there speedily. I doubt there'll be too much trouble." She glanced out the window, trying to recall the last time that had actually been true. Just as long as they got to the watcher first... As Florence turned down the last couple of streets into the district, she slowed the car as she could see the bright, neon blue sign ahead of them, tinting the rain as it fell in a constant downpour. She sighed. Without body heat it always took so much longer to dry off. She hoped that they could manage to avoid getting caught too much in the rain.

After parking, the zombie pulled a dark and ratty jacket from behind her seat, alongside an umbrella. "Here, gimme a second." She opened the door and quickly donned the jacket, before opening the umbrella and walking over to the passenger side of her vehicle, pulling the door open and holding the umbrella for Malcolm. "C'mon, wouldn't want to make a bad first impression. I'll let you do most of the talking, yeah?" She gave Malcolm a wink.

Malcolm gave a soft snort of amusement when Florence expressed her doubt that there'd be much trouble. There was always trouble when the Sheriff's office was involved; it was just a matter of how much. He didn't mention that to Florence, however, figuring she'd earned a bit of an optimistic outlook. There was always the chance things would go well and the Watcher would be safely under their protection in just a few minutes, after all. The slight chance.

Malcolm cast his eyes around the street after Florence had stopped the vehicle, eyeing the other buildings and the nearby alleys. Just in case. He was absently reaching for the latch on the car door, fully prepared to step out into the rain, when the door opened quite suddenly. Florence, umbrella in hand, waiting to escort him to the door. "Thank you," he told her, but this time he was surprised and pleased, the beginnings of a smile subtly lifting the corners of his lips. He got out of the car and walked with Florence to the door of the club, entering into a surprisingly quiet establishment. The singer had just gone offstage, it seemed, according to the man speaking to the audience. Narrowing his eyes, Malcolm scanned the audience for Supernaturals and the Watcher they sought.

The sound of a door being broken inward from somewhere backstage interrupted him.

a collab between @Spectre of the Fade and @Niiwa​

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[Mundane Monster]

Did she still love him? For the first time since she was a child, she wasn't quite sure. Harvey was her first love, as silly as that may seem. He was the first man who didn't ignite her ire and the first man who didn't try to snuff her fire. She didn't think it was possible to not love him. But...Despite all of this...He was still a monster. A monster who wanted her to join him in purgatory and relinquish her humanity.

She couldn't do that. After fleeing her home, and turning her back on her family, her humanity was the only thing she had left. Well...That and her wealth. She was still waiting for her father to cut her off in order to bring her back, but shockingly, he hadn't done so and she was taking advantage of that. After all, if she didn't, how would she have gotten the Lexington Hotel's most lavish living quarters? Although in hindsight, maybe getting a room in one of the most prominent hotels for the upper class was an idiotic decision. Her family knew her well and though she was trying to hide from them, she had to admit she wasn't doing a very good job of it. Not that she would ever admit that out loud.

Still...Harvey had found her and he wanted to see her and Constance Ambrose was no coward. She would take dinner with him and listen to what he had to say, but if he tried anything nefarious, she had protection. A long time ago, her brother, Lawrence had given her a pistol small enough to fit into her pocketbook and she would use it, if she needed to. Not that she wanted to. A naive and stupid part of her hoped Harvey would take no for an answer and let her be.

Connie released a hollow chuckle as she stood in front of the mirror clothed in a sleek black dress, and glossy black heels. Taking a deep breath, Connie spun on her heel and left the room, her hands gripping her pocket book as she entered the elevator. "The floor of the dining hall, please." She murmured to the operator.

@BearEnthusiast @Effervescent

 

[Effervescent]

The Lexington Hotel

Ambrose. From the Latin word Ambrosius meaning immortal. Whether it was coincidence or purposeful, the name had a different connotation for Vincent. Immortality was short lived and grew old just like the rest of everything. Just not in the same beautiful decay as age begat wisdom from a life well lived. Vincent had only just recognized he had been robbed of such a simple life. The short span gave people more urgency for their loved ones to form bonds. Family carried a more substantial weight as time was a mortal enemy that reminded the human world that life was dear and meaningful.

Immortality was short lived, but only through the dry monotony. Being a vampire created a selfish and mundane existence. He saw it through the eyes of the fallen and those who fought for freedom and morals and ethics and their fellow man. And from the inspiration of human life Vincent found himself an outcast of his people; unaccepted by his own family for taking interest in those beyond the concept of Ambrose.

Who would have thought Vincent Ambrose would have been sent out to recruit an awakened family member? The notion made his stomach curdle as he contemplated how to approach someone he hadn't seen in a long time. Connie was his cousin, and the daughter of the most important figure within the vampire house. This was not going to be an easy task either during or after the whole ordeal.

And so he stood outside the Lexington Hotel casing the joint in the shadows as he blew through cigarettes to calm the nerves. The Plymouth did not go unnoticed, nor did the silhouettes presiding within. It wasn't uncommon, still. The city had its fair share of the unsavory looking to build an example. There was no telling which poor sod those men were waiting on within the opulent hotel. There was another car a few spots down with an arguing couple.

He would eventually need to venture into the Lexington and find his cousin. He knew this, and he was almost trying to avoid it as long as possible. Assignments were duty bound, and he snuffed out his final cigarette as he assured himself the time was now and the coast was clear enough.

It had been years since Vincent stepped into any building this snazzy. His eyes immediately turned upward to gander at the tiers of glistening Crystal that refracted the soft yellow glow of each grand chandelier. The ambiance of music suggested a higher class. This lifestyle was something he used to know, and was something he was comfortable in despite the willful disconnect to his past.

It was time he found another of his kin running away from predestination. His boss had made the assignment clear for all the deputies, but giving another reason to piss off the Ambrose line set him on edge a little. Connie had awakened, and it was only a matter of time until she would be forced into their world forever.

Despite the muted hesitancy into the mission, Vincent carried himself confidently through the Lexington following the sound of music. There was no telling where Connie was hiding out in this hotel, or even if she was hiding. The last thing he wanted to do was hunt down her room and knock on the door. People may get the wrong idea.

 

[Tyrannosaurus Rekt]

Abraham hated cars. He had been born in a time where automobiles were science fiction. Well—when science fiction was science fiction. Magic, maybe? There wasn't a particularly good comparison for it. He'd been locked in traffic for nearly an hour. Rain always made humans more idiotic with their vehicles. They'd seize up and drive slower than he could walk, all because of some water pouring from the sky. Humans didn't know scary. Hah. Humans didn't know him.

The rain soaked his shoulders and hat. He never carried an umbrella, because he didn't mind the water. As he slid underneath the awning of the station, he removed his hat and shook it out. He then gave his shoulders a quick brush and straightened his tie. Honestly, he probably just made it more crooked. There was no need for pleasantries. He was here to get the Watcher and then leave.

The warm light of the station was a welcome change from the bleak darkness of a stormy night. Humans filtered past him, paying him no mind. A young girl in a chiffon dress held tightly onto her mother's hand. She leaned into her mother and whispered, "someone smells like a wet dog." Abraham could hear her. Right, that was the problem with prancing through the rain, it didn't really help his feral scent. Again, he wasn't here to impress.

He hurried to the train, hoping that he wasn't too late to catch the Watcher. While he was an expert tracker, he absolutely hated doing it. Taller than most of the humans, he parted through the crowd easily enough. All he had was a description, but the description would have to do.

His pale blue eyes darted across faces and dress. No. No. No. Dammit! Vampire. Abraham was no idiot, he was the Sheriff after all. A vampire wouldn't be this deep in human territory unless he needed something, and that something had to be the Watcher. He didn't want to deal with a dandy leech tonight. He wanted to go back to his office with the Watcher, so he could the long, grueling task of paperwork. Maybe he'd get home before dawn. He snorted.

It was then that Abraham laid eyes on a man that fit the description of the Watcher well enough. Unsurprisingly, it was the eyes. They could see this world for what it was after not being born into it. They may or may not have been scared, but they definitely were always unsettled. This man seemed unsettled.

Abraham intercepted him, looming in front him like a brick wall of flesh and hair. "You need to come with me," he said. Realizing that he was absolute shit when it came to manners, he quickly added on, "I'm the Sheriff, and this is for your safety." Right. He was no Cary Grant.

 

[Mundane Monster]

When the elevator doors slid open, Connie was expecting a bit more time to herself. Time for her thoughts to chase each other in her head, as she slowly made her way to the dining hall. The doors to the hotel's equally glamorous restaurant were an overwhelmingly looming site at the end of the hall but between that entrance and her was a man. A very familiar man who Connie did not expect to see in the hotel or any place near her. The man was someone she hadn't seen since her mother told her not to have any dealings with him.

Her cousin; Vincent. A man who she didn't quite care for but only because she couldn't care to understand why she didn't. Her mother had told her to steer clear of him if she ever met him, even in passing and being the obedient young girl she was, Connie had agreed. However now...Now she wasn't so sure of her mother's command, because after all, her mother was also...She was also...

Either way, Connie's new view on the world informed her that despite his exile from the family, Vincent shared the family 'trait'.

Glancing behind her, she saw that the elevator door was closed and the light indicated that it had already gone to another floor. There were no other paths she could take, but the one where she had to pass him. Why was he here? Her family couldn't have sent him, they had made it clear that they would have nothing to do with him. And why was that? Was he more of a monster than they were? Was he too beastly, even for them? With every thought, Connie's heart picked up speed, but she couldn't turn tail and run. The elevator was gone and Ambroses' didn't turn tail.

Resuming her walk, Connie came to a halt about a foot away from Vincent. "Cousin Vincent. How nice to see you. Do you have business at the Lexington?"

@Effervescent

 

[XC]

[fieldbox="Grand Central Station - New York City, grey, solid"]Doubt was for other people. He had stood at the bottom of the Tower of London and listened to the wails of the ghosts that haunted its very stones. In a different time he would have thought it the hallucinations of a man disturbed by war, as the shrink had tried to tell him. But he knew better, now. Things were different, now. It had folded itself into his consciousness not unlike a sixth sense, as if it had been there the entire time and not a grafted limb.

There were two of them, larger than life, and one was already headed his way. He walked with the gait of a man who knew how to take care of himself - a man who had been around. Like someone who knew he was the meanest motherfucker in the entire valley. Theodore had seen men like that before. He had also seen what was left - or what wasn't - of their bodies. Someone like that had saved his life, too, so he shouldn't be judging too much.

He slowed as the giant of a man cast his shadow over him. Skeptical eyes narrowed, piercing blue casting a gruff reflection as he remained silent for a few seconds. He cocked his head towards the man's body then, before speaking. "I'm gonna have t'see a badge or somethin'." It was a voice that even when raised maintained its softness. Theodore looked around, scanning the crowd. "Think I can take care of myself well enough." Nevertheless, he didn't make any motion to walk away. He stood there looking like a man who would not move unless he wanted to.[/fieldbox]

 

[Spectre of the Fade]

REDLIGHT- The Blue Room

With a yelp, Betty spun round before tripping backwards over the chaise. She landed awkwardly, her wrist crumpling beneath her, and with a cry, she kicked out at the elongated sofa, sending the light weight furniture into the knees of the hulking beast.

The sofa did little to him aside from slowing him down slightly. It was enough to evoke an excited growl from him however. Before his kind was forced into civility he always loved it when his prey fought back. The orc decided he would savor the moment. He kicked the couch aside with little effort, the plush furniture flying and breaking against the wall.

A low grumbling laugh escaped Olseg as he slowly closed the distance between him and the Watcher.

Florence, already shaking the rain from her umbrella, glanced at Malcolm with worry in her eyes as she heard the muffled sound of something breaking over the energetic band. Haphazardly setting her umbrella by the door, she started to walk briskly through the crowd, trying her best not to bump into any of the patrons or break into an outright run. It could be nothing, and she didn't want to cause any suspicion - but given the fact that they were coming to pick up a watcher, she really doubted that it was just your average, everyday sound of destruction. "Why can't anything ever just be simple," she muttered under her breath.

Trailing after Florence towards the source of the noise, Malcolm moved his way through the crowd as delicately as he could manage. Which wasn't very delicately at all, actually, given his size and the close press of people in the space of the bar. Still, he made it over to the door off to the side that seemed to cut into the backstage area without pushing anyone or causing a ruckus. An accomplishment in his book. After a quick look around to check for unwanted observers, Malcolm carefully ducked into the backstage hallway and closed the door behind himself and Florence. He turned to his partner and began to suggest, "I'll go-" A soft cry followed by the sounds of something breaking cut him off and solved the problem of locating whatever they'd heard.

Inside the dressing room, which seemed suddenly and unnervingly smaller than a sardine can, Betty managed, with some difficulty, to make it to her feet. Little it would do... He had closed in too much already.

Still, she had been through too damn much to go down easily. Pulling off her heels, Betty hurled the first at the creature, brandishing the second like a blade. It wouldn't do much, but it had been sharp enough for Jimmy, with the wandering hands... Maybe she'd get lucky twice.

Florence hit the wall with a sound somewhere between a splat and a crash, and fell face-first onto the ground. But, as fast as she hit the floor, she rose, nose spouting a small stream of dark blood, and light bruises starting to form on her body. She dashed forward, back to the tumbling orc, and drove her elbow into his back to force him to the floor. "Stay down, asshole," she growled loudly, her voice like gravel exiting her dry throat. She wasn't sure if they could keep him down, but if he could just understand that they would stop him by any means necessary, he might surrender. Of course, this wasn't the most plausible possibility. But she didn't want to have to outright kill the orc.

The heel had struck and Betty staggered back at she surveyed her handiwork with something of a horrified expression. She wasn't a violent person, and knowing that the man... creature... thing might have killed her, or worse, didn't assuage much of the guilt she felt at having injured him.

Of course, it didn't help when the beast stumbled into the male half of her heroic duo. The woman, looking bruised and battered, a small river of blood coming from her nose, rampaged again, and it was all Betty could do to stay on her feet at the cacophony of shouts and swirling image of bodies crashing into bodies crowded the space in that small dressing room.

The edge of her vision blurred into a deep cherry red, her ears ringing violently and as a rush of heat rose up the back of her spine, a wave of nausea roiling through her stomach, Betty's knees gave way and she crumpled into a faint.

There was a brief struggle as Florence held a knee on top of Olseg to keep him down, but she punched him in the back of the head a couple of times and he seemed to get the point. She reached into her jacket to pull out a pair of handcuffs, which had a set of runes carved around the edges. Usually simple steel wouldn't be enough to hold a creature with this much strength, but the enchantment that had been placed on these cuffs should be able to keep him in check. "All right, it's my duty to put you under-" Florence was cut off as she heard the watcher crumple to the floor behind her. She spun to look, unwittingly sending flecks of blood flying about her general vicinity. When she saw the woman fainted on the floor, she sighed. I guess that's to be expected. What a way to find yourself beyond the grey. She hauled the orc to his feet, and nodded at Malcolm. "Can you get her?"

The magic on Malcolm's hands dissipated as soon as Florence pinned the orc down, relief crossing across his face for a mere moment. Then he saw their Watcher hit the floor and the relief was wiped away almost immediately. He didn't even waste enough time to nod at Florence before stepping over the orc and rushing over to their Watcher, magic dissipating from his hands as he moved. He winced softly as he knelt down, far from eager to witness the woman's reaction once she awoke, but they didn't have time to wait for her to regain consciousness here. The room was trashed, the noise they'd made was likely disruptive, the club was filled with humans. Lurking around was not wise.

So, with a wider wince, Malcolm gathered the Watcher into his arms and lifted her off the floor. He was no strongman, but he could carry her well enough. "We should go," he muttered, frowning softly after he finished the sentence. Flo would know that. She'd been doing this for far longer than he had.

Florence nodded at Malcolm and began to take the orc outside the smashed door - that would have to be left for someone else to find and deal with. For now, they needed to get the criminal and the watcher back to the office. She gave the Orc a smack across the head as she started walking him out, looking for a back door from the stage - she didn't want to deal with walking a handcuffed guy through a crowd, even if they couldn't see through the grey. Unfortunately they started to get soaked through in the heavy rain as she scurried the ogre to her car - something that was already going to be a cramped fit for her, Malcolm, and the watcher. She bit her lip. "Malcolm, would you mind sitting in the back with him? Wouldn't want the watcher to wake up next to this guy. Hell, I know I wouldn't." After just a brief moment of scuffle as everyone positioned themselves in the car, Florence began driving off from the club - trying to be a bit gentler this time with her driving.

 

[Bears]

---

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THE STREETS OF REDLIGHT NPCs: Olseg, Alucard

---

Alcuard had resorted to flicking on and off his lighter, which he assumed annoyed his companion but Dio was a blank page. A blank page in a boring, abnormally tall, leprechaun book. The demons were a no show and that was something that posed questions. But the warlock knew that neither he or his emotionally reserved companion would be the ones to ask them—at least not tonight.

The heavily tattooed man let out a long dwindling sigh before sliding the lighter into his pocket. The rain was as relentless as ever and in the hour that they had waited, puddles had gathered at their feet. "Alright, guess those horned shit heads will have to find somewhere else to peddle their blood."

"It's a shame really. I hate walking all the way to the Underground just to get a fix." The warlock snorted, lightly stalking his way back over to the side of his car. "Still…I doubt our superiors would be happy if we came back home empty."

He slid his hand into his other pocket and pulled out a clear crystal. It was an unfamiliar sight for Dio, just one of many items Alucard had enchanted over the years. He stared at a moment, almost as if he was confused by his own creation. Oddly enough the Warlock then began to smack it against the hood of his black car, grumbling about it being broken.

But suddenly, the crystal began to glow a bright purple. He let out a celebratory woo and looked over the top of the car at the leprechaun, the most wicked of smiles on his lips. "Dio oh buddy of mine...it's looking like its our lucky night. They're close. Very Close.

Olseg snorted as he woke back up and with that came a blob of thick, warm snot. It landed on his cramped body and slowly dripped onto the Deputy unfortunately placed next to him. He growled loudly, his voice rumbling throughout the car as he came back to life.

His vision was hazy and his body ached all over. His hearing was skewed, perhaps a side effect from the pain he endured when that damned warlock slapped him, but the orc could make out bits of an ongoing conversation between the others in the vehicle. The Watcher he had intended to eat had was awake and both of the Sheriff's dogs were too busy trying to explain the situation to care that he had stirred.

He'd show them. No mere handcuffs could hold him. Olseg opened his mouth wide, preparing to roar in rebellion as he made his great escape, when the sudden and immediate impact of a Black Chevrolet ramming into them sent everyone in the car spinning.

The sound of metal colliding with metal was accompanied by the screeching of tires burning against the asphalt.
Silence occured between both cars for a moment, until the tattooed warlock driving the chevrolet pulled himself out of his self inflicted wreckage.

Alucard took one glance at the car he had just rammed with little warning and groaned loudly.

"Man...I was hoping that the crash would kill one of the deputies. It just killed a damn orc."​

tags: @Shizuochan, @Elle Joyner, @Niiwa , @Spectre of the Fade.​

---

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GRAND CENTRAL STATION NPCs: Mikael Caldwin

---

He had made a mistake. It was awfully embarrassing but ultimately it was something no one else would know. Mikael left the waiting area he had originally stood at soon after realizing that it had been the wrong place to receive their foreign Watcher.

The Watcher's train arrived elsewhere and by the time the vampire found it he was disgusted to see that he been beaten to the punch by the unfortunately appointed werewolf sheriff. The vampire cleared his throat, straightened his tie, and walked with chin up as he cut through the crowd towards them.

Barely acknowledging Sheriff Blacklaw's presence, he offered the foreign Watcher a courteous bow as well as a gloved handshake. Mikael did not know what he had expected when his superiors first expressed interest in this particular Watcher.

With immortality came experience and Mikael had plenty of the latter—especially when it came to Watchers. There was something different with this one though but the vampire could not put his finger on it. His eyes solely on the human among the trio, the official messenger of the Council welcomed him with a honeyed tone.

"Welcome to New York City, my name is Mikael Caldwin and I'm sure you must be tired after travelling so far." Beautiful but dangerous, as all his kind were, he smiled. "I have important people who want to know you, any required explanation can be done while we wait for my driver."

The vampires eyes shifted towards the werewolf and along with it, his tone. "This man is also affiliated with my people...but they'd prefer you travel with their best." ​

tags: @Tyrannosaurus Rekt @XC ​

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THE LEXINGTON HOTEL NPCs: Harvey Romano

---

Victoria went back to her room at New Haven to properly get ready for work day. While Vincent went on ahead towards the Lexington, she retired for a moment in order to get her hair out its curlers and apply the necessary amount of makeup for public. The witch cast away her night gown in favor of a red dress and brown coat combo before preparing to teleport herself with magic.

It wasn't a common ability among her kind, believe it or not. Thanks to the sheer amount of time and work it required to master, along with the possibility of fucking the spell up and teleporting yourself somewhere in the middle of the ground, not many witches or warlocks chose to pursue this school of magic. Victoria always preferred to be different, always preferred to be the prettiest pain in the ass you'll ever experience.

That was probably why Blacklaw kept her around. They were one like the other.

At one one moment, Victoria Rider stood in the center of her living room—surrounded by lavish sofas and plush love seats—and in the next she was gone. All that remained of her in the room was a quick snap of wind and the light fixtures swaying. She then found herself in an alleyway just a short walk from the Lexington's front doors.

Her heels clicking against the road, the witch deputy moved with an urgency that only grew more desperate when she recognized the Plymouth parked just outside. She walked past the doorman and through the lobby—spotting her fellow deputy just moments later.

But then she recognized the man who approached him and who she assumed was their Watcher and the witch's stomach dropped. The red head bombshell stopped in her tracks and suddenly adapted, taking up a casual appearance in one of the hotel's seating areas.

Harvey Ambrose. Victoria had encountered him before and because of her experience with that absolute wretch she decided it'd be best that he wasn't aware of the fact that she was around. Just in case, Vinny and the Watcher would need a quick teleport out of here. He might say otherwise but that man absolutely loved violence.

Victoria watched with caution as Harvey approached them with arms wide open, trying to catch Vinny's eye when she could.

"Well would you look at this! It seems we have a little family reunion in the work." Harvey grinned with a tone so typically insincere that Victoria just had to roll her eyes.​

tags: @Mundane Monster @Effervescent @BearEnthusiast

---

​

 

[Elle Joyner]

no-lightbox

BETTY SAINT JAMES​

---

She'd woken shortly after being deposited into the passenger seat of the vehicle, with a dizzying, head-splitting groan, Caribbean blues opening to unfamiliar territory. Red lacquered lips pursed into a groan and putting a hand to her temple, she straightened in the seat.

To any average girl with half a brain in her head, the world was a strange, disjointed, ugly mess. To Betty, it had rather suddenly become a whole lot worse than that. In those few seconds of silence, before she was quite ready to acknowledge what had gone down in the nightclub, she wanted to believe that she had been delusional - that what she had seen had been some twisted effect of long nights in a smoky club. Facts were, Betty wasn't stupid. She knew that what she'd seen was as real as the rain, pattering down on the glass in front of her, as the headlights in their blinding brilliance as they raced through downtown traffic.

That… or she had finally cracked, and they were carting her off to the loony bin.

But she could smell, more than see them… The disjointed and pungent bouquet of odors in the car nearly too much to stand. Her stomach reeled almost as much as her head, both of which took second fiddle to the slamming of heart against breast bone. Her eyes flickered left and from her peripherals she could see the woman… if she could be called as much. Her stomach clenched, and Betty looked away.

Apprehensively, she opened her mouth to speak, her voice quaky and uncertain as she asked where they were taking her. Whatever explanation she received wasn't one she was fully prepared to grasp and she almost asked them to stop when rather suddenly and out of the corner of her eye, Betty saw the headlights speeding towards them. At them.

The sounds and sensations that followed were some of the worst that she had ever heard. Spinning, swirling like water down a drain the car screamed against the pavement as Betty smacked hard into the side of the door, nearly jarring herself unconscious a second time. It seemed as if it would last an eternity, spiraling and shrieking, but finally, the car came to a halt. Warmth ran red down her cheek and her shoulder sung with agonizing pain as blinking, forcing her eyes open she tried to see through splintered, spider-veined glass and the dull haze of her blurred vision.

This, decidedly, was not her night...

---

TAGS || @BearEnthusiast @Shizuochan, @Niiwa , @Spectre of the Fade.​

---

 

[Spectre of the Fade]

MALCOLM HAYES

Damn it all.

Malcolm was just getting into his spiel about the supernatural ("Welcome to the Gray," he'd murmured sardonically instead of answering the Watcher's question, too irritated at himself and his state of general disarray to bother with gentling the truths he would be giving the woman) and leaned forward in his seat, making a valiant effort at ignoring the orc he'd been made to share the backseat with, when the flash of headlights wrenched his attention forward. There was a crash, screeching metal, the sensation of spinning 'til Malcolm's world went black.

He'd come to moments later with pain radiating from his nose like he'd smashed it on something in the crash. Flashes of pain arced through a dozen other places in his body as Malcolm lifted a hand to tenderly press his fingers against his nose, and he took the sharp, white hot pain that the gentle pressure from his probing inspired as an affirmation that his nose was broken. Nothing else felt too damaged, besides his face, which was a bittersweet relief. His head lolled forward and slowly lifted up, eyes cracking open while he considered the state of his clothing since he'd figured out he wasn't seriously hurt. The front of him was a complete mess, blood from his busted nose dripping into his facial hair and down his chin and adding to the snot and slobber that already stained the front of his sweater. Somehow there was a fresh and wet patch of snot down his back; its origin was the orc next to him no doubt, but there was no way to determine when it had appeared. His slacks weren't near so ruined as his sweater, but he might just burn them along with the sweater after this night was done. Just for the sake of being thorough. Speaking of thorough...Malcolm twisted his head around to look at the orc beside him.

Damn it all, he thought for the second time.

The orc was dead, neck bent at an unnatural angle and various disgusting fluids dribbling from his face down to where their thighs were pressed together due to the tight space and the orc's size.

He was definitely burning these pants. Shoes too.

Malcolm closed his eyes again, mouth pressing into a tight line as he did a mental count down from ten, an attempt to swallow the disgust and the pain and the anger and recompose himself. They certainly weren't out of danger yet; an optimist might feel their crash was merely a random coincidence, but Malcolm had always considered himself a realist. A car crash, directly after they'd collected one of the Watchers? No. No coincidence. His frustration would be better used later, for now he needed to be collected and clear of head. The attempt to regain his legendary control was successful, for the most part, and when he reopened his eyes, he leaned forward to try and look into the front seats. Florence should be alright, as she was made of stubborn stuff, but the Watcher was one to worry about.

"Florence?" he asked, never one to use nicknames even in such a catastrophic situation, "Watcher?"

Tagged: @BearEnthusiast @Shizuochan @Niiwa @Elle Joyner​

 

[Aero Blue]

Diarmuid Tuatha cupped the side of his neck, his palm gingerly massaging muscles red from whiplash. Alucard was impulsive, and not particularly cognizant – or, perhaps more aptly, caring – of collateral damages. Dio allowed a minute flicker of annoyance to betray itself, before exiting the vehicle after his compatriot. He gripped his cane firmly with both hands, discarding its pretense as a walking implement. If it came to it, it would, regrettably, be nothing more than an implement of agony.

Dio sincerely hoped that such would not be necessary. His presence was meant to counterbalance Alucard's tendencies of impulsivity and violence. It was something of a relief that it appeared only the orc had suffered fatally. Killing Sheriffs was something of a faux-pas, killing the Watcher was simply unacceptable. The Roswell Family needed the Watcher, after all, if only to subjugate her to a lifetime of exploitation.

The Leprechaun pitied the Watcher. To be used was the unrelenting grip of slow death, a god's hand that tightened around the waist, loosening just a bit to deliver false hope, before clenching once more. A swift end would be more merciful, even at the expense of the body. Better that than the soul.

In any case, he approached the target vehicle, a towering, gaunt spectre in a dark, earthen suit. He momentarily released the grip of his right hand from his cane, and used it to caress the air around it, like the beckoning of a magical wand.

Sympathetic magic, they called it. Power through correspondence, one object strengthened or altered by another analogous object, or at least the concept of it – beet-juice as blood, effigies as live bodies. Direct evocation was difficult, but his ilk were capable of it, to a limited degree. Briefly considering his wooden cane, he blessed it with his transposition, from wooden cane to...

You shall break them with a rod of iron and dash them in pieces like a potter's vessel.

… a rod of iron.

He addressed the passengers of the opposing vehicle, shimmering rod in hand. "Greetings, friends. The Watcher, please."

---

@Elle Joyner @Spectre of the Fade @Niiwa

 

[Niiwa]

Florence, glad as ever that she didn't have to explain the concept of The Grey and the Occult society to a newcomer, drove lazily down streets back to the office. She worked hard to keep her foot under control, trying not to put the woman in more distress than necessary. While she was moving at a painfully slow pace, she supposed that she should work on not being as reckless while driving in general - she had certainly been in her fair share of fender benders before now. Maybe she should think about wearing a seatbel-

With a sudden jolt, the car went spinning - Florence was flung from the car and the momentum sent her rolling a few feet down the street. Immediately her eyes were open. She was no slouch when it came to driving, and that other car didn't even try to slow down. For a moment, she couldn't turn her head. Neck broken, likely. She pushed herself up on her right arm, her left dangling uselessly, broken at her side. The zombie's head was bent at an unnatural angle as she attempted to recover the use of her arms first. She snapped the bone back into place, and her nerves slowly started to reconnect - it was likely that she couldn't use it very dexterously in whatever was to come, but it could at least be used as a blunt instrument. She grimaced as she then started to fix the angle of her head - it had practically been twisted all the way around by her tumble. She could feel blood coagulating and oozing through various wounds she had gained, bleeding through her shirt and jacket. While she could not feel the pain of them, she still felt annoyed that she not only would have to likely heavily repair her car, but also get the blood stains out of these clothes. Not that she wasn't used to it.

Of course, her suspicions were confirmed as she heard a man's voice request for the watcher. Her head tilted back into place, cracking and muffledly projecting the noise of bone and muscle scraping each other, and she groaned softly. Grasping at her stiff, broken arm with her good one, she started to roughly stretch it, hoping to speed up the healing as best she could (though it was likely that it wouldn't be much use in an actual fight). She spat out a glob of something resembling blood onto the wet street, and confidently strode forward through the rain. "'Fraid we can't do that, short stuff," she said, smiling awkwardly through blood-stained teeth. Without waiting for a response, she charged the leprechaun, hoping to catch him off guard and tackle him to the ground.

---

@Elle Joyner @Spectre of the Fade @Shizuochan[/hr]

 

[Effervescent]

The Lexington Hotel - A Collaboration with @Mundane Monster

Her heart was racing, that much he could pick up. But Connie kept her exterior cool, much like the rest of their family. Vincent, too, held that same demeanor, head tilting slightly as he waved away the formality. "Vinny," he corrected. "And yeah, I do. Specifically with you. Let's take a walk, shall we?"

Connie pursed her lips despite her increasingly frazzled nerves, and held her ground. "I'm actually on my way to meet someone, can't this wait...Vinny?" She stated, trying to figure out why on Earth he wanted to speak to her of all people. It's not as though they had ever been close and Connie barely knew the man. And...He was like the rest of her family...So there was no way in hell she was going to 'take a walk' with him, family or not.

He shook his head slightly at the brush off. Not like he wanted to really draw any attention to his reasoning for being there, but the situation was dire enough to urge her to place him above her coming engagement. How long would this even take? And where was Victoria?

"It'll only be a moment, Connie," Vincent said plainly. "I swear you'll go back to whomever it is you're meeting up with like you'd never walked off for a second. I just..." His voice trailed off as he looked around the Lexington. So many people. So many heartbeats. And while the distant chattering all merged into an indiscernible cacophony he still didn't want to risk openly talking about occult business.

"I don't know, pick a place you're comfortable with or something," Vincent suggested with a shrug. "Just away from all these ears, understand?"

With whomever she was meeting? So Vincent didn't know about Harvey's rendezvous with her.

Against her better judgement, Connie let out a short sigh and said, "Fine. But make it quick, I don't like being late to prior engagements." Normally she would have never conceded to someone else's demands, but Vincent didn't seem to know much about why she was there and even that Harvey was on his way. Plus he seemed...Hurried? Or was overwhelmed a better word. She had a slight desire to see how this played out and hear what he had to say. Turning on her heel, Connie extended her hand slightly waiting for Vincent to offer his arm to her. "We'll speak in the elevator, if that's...Alright with you?" She suggested.

Vincent offered his arm to her cordially. "Right this way, miss," he said. "And thanks. I'm here on business. Say, you wouldn't happen to be feeling any different lately? Or seeing things?"

When he posed his question, Connie lost herself for a moment and gripped his arm tightly. How did he know? She hadn't told anyone not even her best friend, not even the goddamn doctor for God's sake!

Catching herself, Connie set her mouth in a firm line. "Let's say I was, what does that have to do with you?" She inquired, a brow arching. Although outside she appeared calm and collected, inside her heart was racing.

"It has plenty to do with me," he said. The grip on his arm was a sign they were, in fact, on the right track with Connie. He wondered if her fiancé knew yet, or if it had been announced to the whole family. "I mean, look at me. I don't look normal to you anymore, do I?"

"No. No, you don't. You look like..." She took a deep shuddering breath and dropped his arm, suddenly unable to maintain pretenses. "You look like the rest of them...The family. You're not human." She murmured, steely gaze taking in his appearance. "I don't know how I never noticed before. How couldn't I have noticed?" She asked mostly to herself but still expecting some sort of answer.

"You couldn't have," he said in a hushed tone. As he guided Connie to the elevator he saw a familiar head of red hair enter the Lexington. Victoria finally made it, much to his relief, and in good timing too. This business still felt a bit awkward to explain, especially knowing that to the awakened he looks unnatural.

"Connie, listen," Vincent continued. "We, the family, and more aren't... Well, we aren't exactly human. You're what is called-"

Before he could finish stumbling through the explanation or reach the elevator, none other than Connie's fiancé approached the two. His gaze shifted over to catch Victoria's as Harvey produced his dry comment. This was a minor obstacle, or so he would hope, for in his mind it was just Harvey Ambrose.

"Hello, Harvey," Vincent said in return. "I'll only be another moment and then you can have Connie the rest of the night."