logan_watcher (logan_watcher) wrote in city_limits, @ 2009-04-03 17:03:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | logan guevera, npc |
Rough Crowd
Logan wasn't the sort of person to drown his sorrows in a beer after losing someone important in his life, but for some reason, he saw fit on this night to frequent one of the establishments about a block away from Thoth's Library for a drink. It wasn't so much because he was having a rough day -- though that was certainly part of it -- Logan just couldn't remember the last time he went to a bar without the intent of investigating something out of the ordinary.
Which, side note? When would people realize vampires loved bars? Logan was constantly aware of this, which was why he wore a silver cross around his neck under his olive green button-down ... well, that and the ever-constant spectre of Diego. There was no telling when the vampire would show his face again, though the former Watcher wondered how losing Izzy would change the game.
Knowing Diego, it probably wouldn't.
Still, it helped to be prepared. Logan did his best to drown out the live band "performing" on the stage to his left. The former Watcher didn't mind local music as a general rule, but this band was particularly grating. It wasn't that they lacked talent; Logan just didn't particularly care for the songs they chose to play.
Deciding there was nothing he could he just sat at one of the tables in the right corner of the bar, nursing his draft beer and watching the other patrons. The typical college crowd was here, the girls wanting to gossip and dance, while the guys were on the prowl for the girls. A couple old-timers sat at the bar, puffing on cigars and paying attention to the big-screen behind the bar, even though CNN was muted in this establishment.
For his part, Logan was more interested in the TV above the restrooms; though he wasn't a college basketball fan, he preferred the Final Four to whatever doom and gloom CNN was peddling on this night.
Her dress was riding up. She adjusted it, slightly annoyed as she swiftly navigated the crowd that congregated in the women's bathroom. One woman shot her a confused glance, and Sandra stared her down until she looked away. The door slammed shut behind her as she exited, and her demeanor immediately changed. A sweep of red hair behind one shoulder, a smile gracing her slightly rouged lips, and the diamond posts in her ears caught the light.
She slinked over toward the bar, halting for a moment to study its occupants. Then her gaze focused on one man in particular, and she zoomed in, taking up the empty post of a stool next to him as she leaned forward a fraction, her voice taking on a breathless tone. "A Manhattan, please," Sandra informed the bartender, as if she were imparting some salacious secret.
As he went off to mix her drink, she turned to the man on her left. "Rough crowd tonight, huh?" she joked, waving one delicate hand in front of her face, silent commentary on the cigar smoke weaving its way over their heads.
"Rough band," Logan joked before taking another sip of his beer, watching the woman wave her hand out the corner of his eye. Her taste in alcohol was a little fancier than his, and that dress certianly made the former Watcher feel as if he was underdressed. More than anything, though, Logan had to wonder ... why did she choose to sit by him?
Okay, he figured the old-timers weren't her thing, and she looked like she was probably just a little too old for the college guys. Frat boys did have a tendency to grow stale as one got older. Still, Logan wasn't the sort women gravitated to, and the one time a girl did approach him at a bar -- in Las Vegas -- he ended the night upside down in his boxers a couple stories up.
Logan preferred not to revisit that evening.
"Mmm." It was a sound of agreement, perhaps, or one of satisfaction as her drink was set before her on a cocktail napkin, and she took a slow, appraising sip. She glanced back at him, and the cherry was plucked out of the long-stemmed glass. "At least it isn't 'dueling pianos' night. I don't think I could take the suspense," Sandra told him dryly, before placing the red garnish in her mouth. "But, you know, it's near work, and it isn't the South Loop Club. Ugh, that place." The woman shook her head, a roll of brown eyes that was accompanied by a tendril of hair slipping past her ear.
"And what would they call you?" she asked, her gaze sweeping over him as if he were a menu set before her.
With a small chuckle and another sip of his beer -- it was tempting to ask for a second, but home wasn't a walk away -- he answered, "They call me Logan."
Seeing the way the redhead was looking at him, the former Watcher found himself curious. Was she checking him out? Did she find him attractive? Somehow, he found that hard to believe -- maybe that was the inevitable self-confidence hit that came from having just been on the receiving end of a break-up -- but there was no way around it:
Logan felt kind of odd being checked out.
"What about you?"
"Sandra," she replied shortly, as if her own name was of little consequence. Her eyes landed on one of the televisions over the bar as she stirred her drink idly. There was, however, a vague expression of triumph that passed briefly over her features as she heard his name. It was quick and slight, but there all the same. "So do you work near here? Or do you make it a point to visit? I'm only asking because I don't think I've seen you around, and I'm somewhat of a regular."
One leg crossed over the other, and from her peripheral vision, she could see people surrounding them from all sides. She affected a sigh, put a ten and two singles on the bar top, and placed the chilled hand that had been holding the cold drink on his knee. "Do you want to move over to one of those tables in the back?"
Logan smiled a little. "First time here," he admitted. "I work about a block from here, decided I needed a drink."
Finishing his beer, and ultimately deciding not to order a second one -- he vastly perferred driving home to taking a cab and leaving his car in its parking garage -- Logan gave the redhead another once-over. A typical move, he figured, since he was male and the dress she wore was making it far too easy. hell, it would've taken a lot of effort not to look.
His curiosity was threatening to get the better of him, even as the former Watcher contemplated all the potential reasons not to move to one of the tables in the back. That night in Vegas came to the forefront again, and even though this girl didn't look like the one who lured him to her place before the sire showed up, Logan would be foolish to ignore such a possibility.
Still, nothing Logan saw yet told him this was anything other than a pretty woman making conversation. So why not?
"Sure," he finally offered, standing and extending his left arm as a signal for Sandra to go first.
She slid off the stool gracefully, long legs an aid to that effect as she took her cocktail in hand. The redhead led the way toward the back, hips sliding sideways to negotiate the gaps in patrons, small backward glances to make sure Logan was following her. Her drink was set upon a coaster at one of the wooden tables in a corner, a hanging bulb covered in a frosted glass shade the only lighting provided. "Much better," Sandra told him, the words silky and warm as the woman took a seat.
Sitting across from Sandra, Logan had to admit it was better than sitting at the bar. It was a bit dimmer back here, and for a moment that made the former Watcher a little apprehensive, but again he ignored the warnings in the back of his mind. Nothing seemed horribly out of the ordinary -- women chatted up guys in bars all the time. What was really so different this time?
Again, Logan chalked it up to the wounds still open from the end of his relationship with Izzy. He hated admitting it still bothered him, mostly because the former Watcher wasn't really known for overt emotional displays, but it was there regardless.
Who knew? Maybe a pretty redhead and some conversation were what he needed.
"Where do you work?"
"The Chicago Board of Trade. I'm an assistant there. It's not the most exciting work, so the boss always feels the need to make things seem more dire than they already are. If something isn't stressful, he has to make it so, to feel important." She rolled her eyes affably, fingers plucking a book of matches off the table. It was emblazoned with the bar's name, and she slipped it into her small clutch purse that hung off one shoulder by a thin strap.
"What about you, Logan? I'm trying to think of what's a block away, and I'm drawing a blank."
Leaning back in his chair a little, the former Watcher curved a sideways smile. It wasn't arrogance or anything, but he was proud of what he'd created in that shopping center. Thoth's Library was making good business and it had even survived the bad press of vampire rumors and protestors in front of the store. He had two excellent full-time employees, not to mention a part-time psychic who was turning into quite the draw.
Logan didn't know if that was because of the psychic or the green skin, but he really didn't care.
"I own a bookstore," he said. "Thoth's Library."
A slender eyebrow was raised, drink brought to lips and tilted back, and the cold liquid slid down her throat, offering just the slightest tingle. "A businessman," she remarked. "Perhaps I was presumptuous. You aren't waiting for company, are you?" The smile on her face indicated that she didn't think he was, but was just asking to be polite. Besides, what company could he want for, when she was there?
Sandra leaned forward, and her hand returned to his knee, except this time, her polished fingertips crept up an inch or two further.
"Nope," Logan mused, trying to hide the dejection in his voice, noting how there was really no one for him to wait on anymore. His thought was interrupted, though, by the hand resting on his leg, an inch or two higher than it had before. He'd thought little of the hand the first time around -- maybe that was just how Sandra greeted peopple in certain situations -- but this pretty much confirmed it.
She was coming on to him. And ... her hands were kinda cold.
Then again, they had been resting on her drink, and Logan could see the condensation on the glass. He chuckled a little at the chill of her hand on his leg, trying not to let her know that he noticed how far up his leg she was going. Something about being coy or whatnot. "Just out here enjoying a quiet night and a drink to myself.
"Doesn't mean I'd turn away company, though."
"Well, I could be company," she said, needlessly, and her hand gave his thigh a slight squeeze. This hadn't been tonight's first drink. The band exited the stage, and the stereo system came on instead, some easy-listening jazz station. Sandra's hair fell over one bare shoulder, as she studied him shrewdly. Now that he had told her he ran a bookstore, she could picture him in the stacks; he was distinctly bookish, but that didn't bother her. The redhead had gotten what she had came for.
"How about another drink? So we can get to know each other a little better?" Her lips curved up in a smile, this one vaguely seductive.
Logic screamed at Logan, telling him he had no business ordering another drink if he had plans of driving home. Not that two beers would leave the former Watcher horribly drunk, but he didn't want to risk getting pulled over for something else and have the officer smell the alcohol. After the hoopla over his hiring practices, the last thing Logan needed was everyone finding out he had a DUI.
Then again, there wasn't anything saying Logan couldn't take the El train to work the following morning. His car was more than likely safe in the garage nearby. All he'd have to do was hop on the Orange line and he'd be good to go. And Sandra seemed nice enough ... what was the harm in having another drink and flirting with her?
Francis had always said Logan needed to get out and have more fun.
"Not sure which I like more," he said with a smile, even though he found the words awkward leaving his lips. "The free drink or spending time with a hot girl."
A sound between a laugh and a giggle escaped her lips, and she waved one bracelet-clad wrist in the air to catch a waitress's eye. Inclining her head, she told her, "Two Stella's, please." The waitress gave a tacit nod and made her way to the bar, and the other woman turned back to Logan. "I don't underestimate the value of intelligent company," she told him, in that same alluring tone that suggested she were sharing some intimate detail with him. It was a special skill she possessed, of making each man she spoke to feel special in his own right.
"Tell me, Logan ... are you originally from Chicago?"
The former Watcher shook his head as the fresh glass of beer was set before him, taking the first sip. "Upstate New York," he said. "Grew up there, went to Vegas after school, spent some time in Denver, and ... now I'm here."
The safe version of events, light on details. Sandra probably didn't want to hear about how his dreams of journalism died because of a whacked-out Slayer and a vampire cult. She probably also didn't need to know about his girlfriend Slayer and how she died on the 11 o'clock news at the hands of a sadistic vampire ... and he certainly wasn't about to bring up the fact that he just got out of a relationship with a tech-witch.
As far as Sandra knew, his store aside, Logan was a completely normal guy. For now, that was how he wanted it.
"What about you?" he asked with another swig. "Where are you from?"
"Wisconsin," she answered, giving him a wry look as their pints were set down before them. "Not so glamorous, I know, but ..." A shrug of slender shoulders as she tipped back the frothy glass. "I'm here now, I suppose. And if I do say so myself, I'm not too shabby." She gave him a sidelong grin as she set the beer back down. "I could say the same about you, too."
She was getting restless, but kept the veneer of calm and casual. The only indication of her inner shiftlessness was the tapping of one high-heeled foot against a table leg, which couldn't even be heard above the din.
"No argument here," Logan said with a smile, raising his glass before taking another swig. He was slightly uncomfortable with the compliment, since he wasn't exactly used to that sort of thing, but the former Watcher wasn't about to disagree with Sandra's self-assessment. She knew she looked good and wasn't afraid to admit it -- some might call that cocky, but Logan actually found such confidence refreshing.
He took another sip, glancing over her shoulder at the game. The screen was so far away, he couldn't see the score on the bottom of the screen.
"Be glad you didn't meet me when I was in Denver," he joked. "That beard and those glasses worked for no one."
The redhead gave him an indulgent smile as she continued to sip daintily at her drink. "I hear Denver's pretty chilly, anyway." She leaned in closer. "And I prefer the warmth." Her lips were about six inches away from his ear, on the pretense of being heard over the noise in the bar. Laughing again, soft and quiet.
Sandra was unapologetically confident; whatever she wanted, she got, not because she waited for them to fall into her lap -- so to speak -- but because she went after them. And Logan was currently very much on her radar.
A shiver ran through Logan when she whispered in his ear. He held the glass up as if he were about to take a drink, but the former Watcher was too ... stunned, was it? -- to actually bring beer to lips. Truth be told, there were times where Chicago was just as chilly as Denver, although he had to admit spring probably came a lot sooner in the Windy City. Judging by the outfits some of his customers have been wearing of late, spring was around the corner.
"Warmth ... warmth can be good," he stammered, any pretense of cool gone.
"I think so, too," she agreed silkily, taking a longer pull from the pint. "That's why I think you should walk me home," she added meaningfully. "Besides that, it's quite late, and from what I hear, some unsavory characters like to make the dark their home." Sandra's eyes widened a fraction, affecting a vulnerable look. Some of her swept-back bangs came loose, falling over her forehead.
Digging through her purse, she pulled out a blue ticket. "Could you be a doll and get my coat for me?" Not giving him room to deny the request.
Logan nodded, finishing his glass before taking the blue ticket. "Yeah, we wouldn't want you running into one of those ..." His eyebrow arched a little. "Unsavory characters."
Getting Sandra's coat from the coat check, Logan returned and placed the garment on her shoulders, letting his hands linger on them a couple seconds longer than necessary. The coat served as a barrier between his hands and her flesh, before he removed them and placed them in his pockets. The former Watcher glanced back at the bar before sliding two folded-up bills under his empty glass as tip.
It wasn't much, but he wasn't exactly thinking of the barkeep right now.
"Shall we?"
She stood and snaked one arm through his, sliding her purse back over her shoulder and surreptitiously adjusting the hem of her dress. She began leading them further into the back of the bar, instead of going toward the front exit. "This way, we don't have to fight our way back through the crowd," Sandra informed him, opening the back door. The chilled air hit them, the contrast felt immediately after being around all that body heat. They were in an area usually reserved for shipping and receiving by the businesses on that stretch of the street.
"I live in a condo near here," the woman assured him. "It's not too far of a trek." Biting her lip and offering him a smile, she slipped one hand into his pocket.
The rush of cold air on his face made Logan squint once they were outside, but the feel of Sandra's hand working into his pocket brought him back to attention. He was glad she chose the pocket of his jeans and not that of his coat, because he didn't want to have to explain why he walked around at night with a sharp piece of wood. Not that Logan ever expected to need it, but he felt better when he had it on his person.
Especially with Diego running around who knew where.
Any rational thoughts in the former Watcher's head were drowned out by the reality of this attractive woman with her hand in his pocket. As logical as he could be, Logan was still human, and he still a man. There were certain biological imperatives even he couldn't deny, no matter how much he tried sometimes. This was one of those moments of helplessness.
"How long have you lived here?"
"A few years," she replied airily, slipping her other hand into the opposite pocket, as she began herding him toward a brick wall. Once she had him up against the surface, she leaned in and planted her lips against his. After a moment, she pulled back and laughed. "Sorry, guess I couldn't wait." An eyebrow was quirked as she glanced down at where she had her hand practically in his pants. "And I guess you couldn't, either."
The kiss caught Logan off-guard, though he guessed it shouldn't have. She did have her hand in his pants, after all, which was probably as obvious a sign as anything as to her intentions. He had just begun to relax his lips against hers when she pulled back, removing her hand. The former Watcher sighed in a bit of frustration, thinking this girl was really good at teasing. Then again, he wasn't the sort to get down and dirty until he was back at his or the other person's place, so he guessed her teasing worked in that regard.
"I guess not," he said with a sideways grin, grabbing her by the arms before pressing her against the wall. The move was totally unlike him, but he couldn't really control himself. Her flesh was cool to the touch, but the night air was cool, too. His cross necklace had come out from behind his shirt when he spun, and as he kissed her again, pressing his chest against hers, the necklace cradled itself in the dip between her collarbones.
She hissed, suddenly, and there was the noise like a kettle being set on a burner as she instinctively pushed him away. Her hand clutched at her chest, and she could feel the sear mark. Reaching out, she ripped the necklace off of him in anger. "What are you playing at?" Sandra seethed, tossing the chain to the cement. "Diego said you liked this."
So stunned, was Logan, that Sandra was a vampire that he almost missed her invoking Diego's name. The name did stick in the former Watcher's ears, any excitement and arousal he felt just moments before gone. Sandra's hand wasn't cool because of her drink, her arms weren't cool cause of the night air ... this bitch was a vampire. One sent by that Spike wannabe, at that.
Logan sighed and punched Sandra across the nose before pushing her back against the wall and pressing his thumb into the burn mark, his free hand producing the stake in his coat. Apparently, he'd need it after all.
"What does he want?"
The vampire reeled from the unexpected blow, before recovering with one of her own. "He said he wanted to show you a good time, like the ones you used to have in Denver," she snarled. "It's not my fault if you got limp on me." Sandra followed with a knee to his midsection, moving forward so she wasn't cowed against the wall. She saw the stake, and her face shifted to ridges and fangs. "He even paid in advance."
The punch to the face hurt, but what really got to Logan was the knee to his stomach. He stumbled back, his free arm cradled over his gut. That second drink was really starting to look like a bad idea. Logan closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying like hell to steel himself and let the pain slowly pass. Few things would be more embarrassing than blowing chunks after getting socked in the gut.
Fortunately, he didn't straightening and ramming his elbow against her nose. "Then I'm sorry he wasted his money."
With a quick jab, Logan pushed his stake into Sandra's chest when he found an opening, squinting and recoiling when her curvy frame disintigrated into a cloud of dust and ash. He sighed and pocketed his stake once more, glancing down the alley and catching his breath before checking his nose to ensure there was no blood. It was bleeding, though, and the former Watcher snarled in disgust at the pile of dust on the ground.
So Diego knew. And he thought Logan would take up his vampire habit again. The former Watcher laughed, shaking his head. He couldn't believe how little that poor excuse for a bloodsucker knew anymore.
[NPC Sandra was written by Jessica.]