The Post-Work Breakdown (Open)

[sunny]

Don't look at me. Don't talk at...no, it's talk to, don't talk to me. Don't...don't come near me! I'm over here for a reason, get it? Leave me alone.

She was sitting at the bar in some noisy club on a Sunday, drinking a tall glass of Mystery at noon. One hand covered one ear in an attempt to muffle the blaring music. She hated noise, she hated this club, and she hated the sketchy people in it, but it was the first place her feet took her. She couldn't very well go to work like this, even though she had Sundays off. It didn't matter if she went as Sunny or Miss S, if she went there like this, and they knew it was her, everything was over. She'd lose her job, and her other job...leaving her with the job that made her drink like a fish in the first place.

She was still suffering the effects of heavily drinking the night prior, and she didn't know how to make everything feel better, so she figured she might as well drink. It made everything go away, that's why she did it. And there she was, shifting uncomfortably in her chair every time she felt someone get too close to her.

She felt eyes on her and shrank into the counter, wrapped her arms around her glass of something protectively, tilted her head down, trying to hide away. If she can't see them, they can't see her! It must work. It has to work.

Stop looking at me!

Maybe they weren't looking at her before, but if anyone was near the bar, they surely would be now. She was quite the spectacle.

I had to! It's not my fault! It's... your fault! I had no choice! I hate this! I hate Sundays! I hate everything! Stop looking at me! Go away! Leave me alone!

[scythe]

A seat opened and he took it barely even realizing that other people were around him as he did so. A callused raised hand and the bartender came over her put down a five and he recieved a cheap bottle of some sort of drink. What it was, how it tasted, what brand labled it did not matter. The only thing that mattered was that it was cold, and it was wet. Moisture, liquid, fluid.

It was nice to be in a place where no one remembered his name, no one remembered what he'd done, and no one cared. This nation was beautiful in its abundant act of not caring and people hurt everywhere he looked. Depression, sadness, pain. The funny thing about it however was that they hid that they were in agony.

His eyes moved slowly to take in the people around him including the blond beside him. It was almost like she was giving off a vibe of 'leave me alone' and it humored him. She came to a public place and yet wishes to be alone. Abandon, loneliness, solitude. Not wanting to ruin her day by talking to her he simply too a long pull from the brown bottle relishing the echo of heartache around him.

(ooc. sorry i missed that you wrote DAY...edited...)

[regous]

"The Cave" thought Vincent. "Where many bats go to hide during the night, where the depressed and intoxicated reside. They make ease pray..." Vincent remembered the words the veteran vampiress told him the day he nearly died of starvation.

Vincent did not know whether or not he would need blood soon, but he wasn't willing to take the risk. He decided to make it a routine to feed every other day to keep on top of his game. After almost being killed by the sunlight on his last venture, he decided like all other vampires eventually do, that it was best to hunt in the night.

Vincent walked into the cave casually with red tinted shades and a hat over his head, covering his hair and overpowering some of his defining facial features. He was dressed to fit the party scene, and no one in their wildest dreams would ever assume he was Vincent Lawrence. Well, the few that were not drunk...

He began to walk around, adjusting to his surroundings. He walked through the crowd of dancing drunks, slowing down near the bar to find his potential victim. His eyes strained to the left as he walked. There was a raving Texan slamming his jug of beer on the table and laughing to himself, two cool looking guys having a smoke, a muscular fella horsing back a beer and a fragile looking blond...

[sunny]

When Scythe took a seat beside her, she scooted to the side so fast that she nearly knocked herself out of her chair.Away, away! Can't you see I'm just here to drink? Doesn't anyone go drinking just to drink these days?! Leave me alone!

One might wonder how she ever heard someone sit down beside her, over all the noise. Noise. Why was there noise? Who the hell went clubbing at noon on a Sunday? Masonville was a sad little place if there were so many people at The Cave already.

"Turn it down." She groaned to no-one in particular, half-hoping the bartender would hear her and alert the club's owner of the time and day. It was hard to drink off a hangover with music blaring in her ears and her heart pounding in her chest. She guzzled her glass of Who-Knows-What like she was in a hurry. Drink, drink, drink. Maybe everything would go black soon, and she wouldn't have to worry about the noise, or the people watching her.

Watching. She completely tuned out Scythe, drinking, paying for more, drinking, paying for more, and she wondered why she needed three jobs. The lurking vampire she hadn't noticed at all, far too occupied with trying to drown her guilt away.

[scythe]

His eyes flicked to the woman who had just spoke as he drank down the vile liquid in the bottle. He enjoyed a good drink but never saw much of a reason to pay the price of something that actually tasted something unresembling to dog urine. Urea, stale, pee. Swirling the liquid he watched the woman at the corned of his eye occasionally as she downed more and more drinks.

Either she enjoyed drinking, the drink tasted like a gift from some greek god, or she was drowning something. Those were most of the reasons he found for people who drank. He certainly wasn't drinking because of the taste, that was for certain. His eyes caught sight of movement close to him but he didn't much react. It was a club, there were people around, can't start at every shadow. The man eyeing the blond drew no real attention from him as he finished the bottle of spirits. Firewater, booze, sauce.

From her very strong 'stay away vibe' he was guessing she was drowning something, or she was an alcoholic. Either way it was sad, disgusting, and it made him smile. Now he could image what sort of horrors she could be trying to wash away with the intoxication that came with those drinks. She was also spending far too much money for his liking. People who spent frivolously annoyed him. Chafe, agitate, perturb. It was a sign of weakness, but who was he to judge. Perhaps she had a valid reason for wasting away under booze, and tossing her money to the river of the drink. He put down another small bill and got another bottle of urine to swallow down in silence.

[regous]

Yes this blond girl, wasting away her senses and money on alcohol seemed to be a very unstable character. At the rate she was going she might pass out, Vincent smiled to himself at the thought. She would be easy pray, this was a waiting game.

But then again, there is the muscular individual sitting next to her. He seems to have some latent interest in his target. Despite Vincent's improved speed and strength, he still felt a bit uncomfortable thinking about scrapping with a fellow of that physique. This is a mission of stealth after all. He has to get this girl out of here into the dark alley, but how if she pushes everyone away from her...Even those that aren't taking any interest in her existence.

Vincent in venturing around the world with his father, came to know a lot about alcohol. This knowledge would become very useful in his plan to feast upon this blond. Vincent approached the man sitting in the seat on the left side of the blond. He was a jolly man, slamming his fist on the table and laughing at everything going on around him.

"I'm going to need this seat." said Vincent sternly, yet almost inaudibly. The man began to protest for about half a second until he felt some money pressed against his jacket. He got up and walked away inconspicuously and Vincent replaced him in his seat.

Wanting to call as little attention as possible he summoned the bar tender with the curling of his index finger.

"What'll be mac?" asked the bar tender cleaning a glass with a towel walking toward Vincent.

"Do you have any Everclear good sir?" asked Vincent quietly sliding some money forward on the table.

"Ahh a strong drinker!" responded the bartender grabbing a clear bottle from the top of the cupboards and bringing it down to the counter in front of Vincent. "Please be careful with that good sir." added the bartender with a laugh, masking the seriousness of the comment as he opened the bottle for Vincent.

Vincent smiled placing a hand on the bottle and looking forward, he tilted the bottle to his right allowing the potent drink to mix with that of his target. He knew not if she saw or not, and he didn't care, it looked almost accidental.

"Drink up, it'll wash away your pain..." said Vincent pulling the bottle back up to rest on the table.

[sunny]

The noise of the club and Sunny's persistent drinking drowned out all else. She didn't notice the people dancing and mingling behind her, the raving Texan, or the two men smoking. She didn't notice Scythe when he briefly regarded her, and she didn't notice Vincent's exchange with the bartender. Her attention was solely on her drink, eyes all but glued to the glass. She didn't notice anyone, didn't hear anyone, didn't see anyone, because she didn't want to. She was not a social drinker, and not in the mood to be bothered.

But for all of the not-noticing she was doing, she did see one thing; someone slipped something into her drink. Her pink lips twitched into a deep frown. Couldn't people just leave her alone, for once? She got enough of them gawking at her every other day. Was it too much to ask for a genuine day off?

She considered drinking it for a moment, whatever it was. What's the worst that could happen? The drink could be poisoned? She wondered if it would be so bad to die right there. No more stress, no more worrying, no more drinking. God, she hated drinking. But was it worth it to die right there? In a noisy club, surrounded by stinking and stupid strangers, unfulfilled, unsuccessful, unhappy?

She couldn't chance it. She had to stick around and take care of her little sister, because one day, no matter what those idiot doctors said, she was gonna wake up. And if she had to sell her soul for Phoebe, she'd do it. She cursed herself for even contemplating giving up.

"Whadyou think you're doing?!" She snapped to the Scythe, automatically accusing the closest suspect; she had noticed something being poured into her glass, but she hadn't noticed who did it.