there will be candy Who: Thistle and Samuel Where: a club just off the strip in Las Vegas When: late night, What: Thistle and Samuel meet Status: incomplete Rating: PG-13
Desert nights were colder than she's expected, but Thistle was undeterred. She snuggled into her coat and waited.
She'd checked in at Daybreak Headquarters as soon as she got into town, just like Raven had insisted. Well, she'd checked out the headquarters. She'd looked at them. They looked like Daybreak Headquarters. Very safe, very nice, very fluffy. Very boring. She'd wanted nothing to do with it when they'd come to get the gang out of San Francisco after Jez ended up getting them all in danger, but Wild Powers were apparently serious business and the Council was not amused- picking between fluffy Daybreak or a pissed-off Council was a no-brainer. A few months in a Daybreak safehouse though was enough to make Thistle rethink things. Maybe the Council wasn't that bad.
She missed San Francisco and she missed the gang. Well, she'd only just left Raven but she wondered what the others were up to. No word from Jez or Morgead. And leaders were supposed to care about their gangs, Thistle reflected with a dismissive sniff. So much for that. She'd gotten tired of waiting and tired of Raven looking rapturous about Daybreakers, and so she'd used every ounce of cuteness she could muster and every sulking trick to convince the guys in St Louis that she would be a good, safe little vampire in Las Vegas for a few weeks. She'd flown, and let the flight attendants spoil her and promote her to First Class before getting whisked off to a lovely hotel in a limo. Of course she'd have to check into Daybreak sooner or later. Humans got so nosy about a kid on vacation by themselves. 'Daddy's in his meetings' only worked for so long.
Thistle's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of raucous laughter and shuffling steps. She'd avoided The Strip itself- too many good-hearted people who would get between her and dinner out of concern for her safety. And goddess help her if she had to go through sitting in a police station and had to dance her way out of being stuck in a foster home. Again.
The steps and chortling, slurred words got louder as two men turned a corner and came toward her. Damn it, whatever happened to lonely wandering drunks?
"Hey, it's a kid!" The bigger one pointed at her. Or in her vague direction, in any case.
"Dude, kid, it's laaaate. Where shyour parten--part--parents?" the other one leaned against his friend and tried to lean down toward Thistle at the same time and wound up nearly falling until the bigger one grabbed him and stood him back up. "Thanksh."
"You should get a taxi," Thistle told them both seriously. The bigger one had good reflexes and he was over six foot... Rats. Maybe she could direct them to another bar and get the smaller one--
"She don't sound like no kid," Big Guy said suspiciously.
"But it's-- she's--eeeency-weency little kid."
Big Guy ignored his friend and stared at Thistle. "I bet she's a hooker. Kiddie-hookers. They got them here, don't they?"
"You're thinking of certain Asian countries, idiot," Thistle snapped. "You're in Las Vegas. And I'm going home--"
"Bet her mom'sa stripper," Drunk suggested. "We should see your mom 'bout you bein out all late."
"Actually she's dead."
That set Drunk back, but Big Guy came closer to leer down at her. Thistle backed up and waited. His pulse was riiiight there. If Drunk would just fall over, she might be able to get this one down. Big Guy's hand shot out faster than she'd have thought someone that smelled like he was soaked in whiskey could move.
"Orphans oughtta be taken care of-- You'd better come with--" Big Guy stopped as something made a noise a little way off.