|User:||truesin_rpg (posted by finns_luck)|
The last thing Theresa had expected to find in Chicago was an eighties club. The city hadn't seemed retro enough for it at first, but the second she opened the doors and heard the blast of old school hair metal coming through the speakers she believed she might have found a decent place to hang out. The vampire squeezed through the crowd and found a table near the back, where she asked for and received a Coke. She'd already eaten that night, and the cash in her pocket was practically bellowing to be spent. The song changed just as she sat down, and one shoe tapped a rhythm on the floor as she poked at the ice cubes in her glass.
Maybe this place wouldn't be worse than the final death after all.
Finn didn't like being surrounded by people he didn't know. When he was at his nest, there were always a dozen vampires or more, ready to defend him and his home. It was the privilege that being sheriff of Area Two afforded him. But here, in a new, strange place, there were none such benefits to be had. And so he had to fit in, keep a low profile, and all of those things that he detested. While he was quite certain he could take out the beefed up bouncers who were one step below rent-a-cops, that wouldn't look very good for his kind.
That didn't mean, however, that he had to hide being a vampire. Thanks to Chicago's more liberal nature, it was one of the cities that was slowly getting on board with the Vampire Rights Amendment, and harassing a vampire was already illegal. Finn ordered a bottle of Tru Blood from the bar, B negative, and took a seat on a stool in an area that provided him with a nearly 360 degree view of the club.
( Very New Age )