Sariel was hardly a stranger to Miller’s Tavern, having spent a fair amount of time there while her brother was stuck in an awkward teenager’s body. Much as she liked to think that the appearance of a vessel didn’t matter, the truth was it was somewhat unsettling to think of the things she wanted to do to Raguel before she remembered that he was in a gawky seventeen year-old boy. So to indulge in her preferred vice, she had started coming to Miller’s to find willing participants.
In the months since she’d been somewhat scarce at the neighborhood’s favorite dive, although she’d pop in every once in awhile for appearances’ sake. It helped dispel any suspicions when she strolled in and took a seat at the bar, a seat over from Claire. Ordinarily she would have been more careful with such a meeting. But they were getting so close, and besides that, her brothers were occupied with their human attachments. It made her laugh a little to think of her brothers, each saddled with a child in their own ways.
She ordered a glass of white wine, and settled into her most nonchalant pose. “Looks like you’re already making yourself at home,” she said softly, keeping her gaze elsewhere. “I trust you’ve been well?”