It's hard to argue when you won't stop making sense Who: Jezebelle and Grayson Where: Heme When: Evening
Dealing with Lex resulted in Jezebelle seriously needing a drink. At one point in her life red wine would have been the preference, but with that out she was thinking along the lines of angelic blood, something she didn't currently have at home. As she stepped into Heme, Jezebelle's eyes immediately moved to the bar, checking to see if Saoirse was working. While she didn't immediately see the other vampire, Jezebelle thought it might be wise to keep her eyes peeled; she wasn't there to cause a fight, but she hadn't stopped by the bar since the Saoirse had dropped by her house. If she remembered right, Graham had paid her a visit shortly after, and was probably even less welcome in the bar than she was. With the coast appearing clear, Jezebelle stepped up to the bar to order a drink. Hopefully they had at least one bottle of angelic blood back there. She'd pay top dollar if need be.
After spending the previous night out on the town with Saoirse, Grayson found himself once again back in the swing of things at Heme. The moment's break was much needed, especially after the mess that was opening the bar as a shelter from the demons, but he'd be insane to think about taking both a Friday and a Saturday night off. This was his job, and he was damn good at what he did, and he loved to be here on the busy days. Much more exciting for him than sitting and watching the three lonely guys who sat at one end of the bar every Tuesday night like some sort of failed ritual (though Grayson could sympathize; he'd been there too, a great number of years ago). At the moment he was at the far end of the bar, looking over some paperwork and double checking the liquor order he'd be placing on Monday morning when he looked up to see the woman ordering a drink. No heartbeat was the first giveaway that she was a vampire, as was her drink. Angelic blood. "You're in luck," he said to her, "just got some more of that in this morning."
"Wonderful," Jezebelle sighed with a smile. "It's just one of those days where nothing else will do." Carefully hopping up on the bar stool, Jezebelle crossed her legs and smoothed out her dress before turning her attention back to the bartender. He was a vampire, just like her, as she suspected all the bartenders were, but that was the only conclusion she could draw. Due to the fact that they didn't age, she had no way of knowing where he was in life, if he'd been recently turned or was going on his third century. A part of her wondered why an elder vampire would want to work in a bar, but then she owned a flower shop and had no room to talk. Everyone found their nitch somewhere.
Grayson was, like most vampires, older than he looked, but certainly not the oldest around. He was, however, a good deal older than the majority of his bartenders and higher ranking, so to speak, so he smiled at the woman before turning to the vampire next to him. "As the lady wishes, one glass of angelic blood." When the vampire hesitated, Grayson just raised an eyebrow, the "Now" going unspoken. Patience had never really been one of his virtues, especially when it came to his job. He'd done this job so long he could probably do it in his sleep, as the expression went, but Grayson didn't mind. His own glass was sitting off to the side, untouched for the moment. "Hopefully the night will go better than the day has," he said as the bartender brought over the requested glass, setting it in front of the woman.
Always one to appreciate good service, Jezebelle watched the exchange with a curious smile, her eyes briefly moving over to the papers sitting off to the side. She knew it was a vampire that owned Heme, but she'd never met him in person, and she had to say it was a brilliant idea on his part. Being billed as the first vampire bar was certainly a title to covet, and he'd done such a fabulous job with the decor that it deserved to be in the news. It was good to see that the service lived up to the standards it set. "Thank you," she said, giving a nod of thanks as she accepted the glass of blood. "May I inquire-- are you the owner of this establishment?" If so, she should be buying him a drink, just to show her appreciation.
With that, Grayson gave her a warm smile, the kind that came easily to him, dealing with people as often as he did. "I am," he said. It was his name on all of the paperwork, yes, even though it was technically owned by the House of Azrael. He'd simply been the one who'd been tapped to run the place, seeing as it was one of the primary reasons why he'd been turned, all those years ago. Setting his paperwork aside, he offered the woman a hand, "Grayson Mudali, lovely to meet you." It wasn't often he was down on the floor, especially when Heme got crowded on a Saturday night, but he did always love being in the thick of things. He knew when to get involved, and when to sit back and observe. Tonight, he was glad he had, always met the most interesting people.
"You do a wonderful job. I've been impressed with every visit," she said. It was so nice to have somewhere to go, where she was not only welcome but catered to. After over a hundred years of pretending to drink wine, she could actually sip from the glass she held. And better yet, she enjoyed what she was served. There wasn't a high need for multiple vampires bars in one town, so she was glad that the one they had was such high class. "Jezebelle Marino," she said, accepting his hand. "I run a local flower shop, Moonlit Garden." Along with a drug circle in Detroit, but that wasn't something she was just going to throw out on the table. Vampires couldn't use the drugs themselves, so it made even less sense to mention, even if it was a suitable avenue of conversation.
"Thank you," Grayson said, his gratitude genuine. "It's always good to hear that we're doing well, the first few months of any business are always the roughest." When first approached about the concept of vampire bars, he wasn't so sure it would work, but he was glad that it had. He remembered Hasim coming into RiRa's that first time, being so happy to have a place where the owners knew what he was, and that it wasn't something he had to hide. Even now, when the entire town knew Grayson was a vampire - it was hard to keep that fact a secret in this business - it wasn't often he showed his fangs. It made the humans here too uncomfortable when they were fully aware of what he was. The name seemed a little familiar, but he couldn't place it at the moment, and decided to think about it later. "Moonlit Garden? I do believe I've heard of the place in passing, have never been in, however." He reached over for his own glass, "Perhaps I'll have to do that, now."
"When I first heard it was opening, I wasn't sure there were enough vampires in town to sustain it, but I'm glad to see I was wrong. You do have a rather diverse clientele, which is interesting," Jezebelle said. She could hear heartbeats throughout the room, the scent of some lending her to believe they were more than just human. Even the bouncer was living and breathing, a placement that amused her with how non-threatening it seemed. "I've always had a love for flowers. We keep some rather rare varieties on site, and if we don't have what you're looking for, I can usually track it down," Jezebelle smiled. She liked the idea of expanding her greenhouse. Gardening was her most quiet hobby, and the most non-threatening. "We're open till nine at night, for those of us that don't enjoy the sun." She, for one, loved the sunlight, but without fae blood she was as nocturnal as all other vampires.
"But of course. We serve more than just blood, after all. I think being the first vampire bar in town has helped us tremendously." Grayson had always hoped Heme could be seen as just a bar, a place anyone could stop by should they chose too. A meeting place for vampires and humans and other supernatural types, the kind of bar he wanted to exist when he'd first been turned. (Of course, then he wouldn't have wanted blood, just the alcohol, and it was a good thing he'd been turned when he was.) Grayson reached for his own glass, taking a sip, nothing more than simple B+ blood, his own type. "Sounds lovely. I'm sure I could think of a reason or two to get some flowers." Though he had little talent for it himself, and his condo in Cherryblossom Place didn't come with enough land for his own garden, Grayson did like having a bit of color around. And, seeing as he didn't actually sleep, he could easily make the time to stop in and see what Jezebelle had to offer. "The sun is not so much of a problem, finding a time to step away from here is more of a challenge."
"The sun makes me tired," Jezebelle laughed softly. Only daily doses of fae blood could let her work the shop on a regular basis. Instead, she had teenagers work the day, taking orders for arrangements, and then she made them in the evening hours. It was something to do when the drug supply was high and she didn't need to spend time in the lab. "Did you own a bar prior to the Light of May?" She knew it wouldn't have served blood, but he seemed familiar enough with the operations that he had to have been in some kind of business. If he was new to it, he would have still been running around, while Heme operation smoothly, as if it had been open for years. Impressive, especially considering that it was unlike any of it's peers.
Grayson nodded, "I do try not to spend the entire day out in it, that's for sure. It comes with the territory." A trade off for the life he'd chosen. Most of the time, it didn't bother him; he could still travel as he pleased and it wasn't like he was confined indoors in anyway. At her question, Grayson managed a soft chuckle, "Several, actually. I suppose you could consider it a gift." He'd always been good at the business, and it was one of the reasons why he'd been chosen to join the House of Azrael, Grayson knew that. But beyond that, even with the temptations the alcohol could still offer him all these years later, he enjoyed it. The nightlife had always called to him, whether participating himself (something he did still do, his evening with Saoirse the night before proved it) or providing it for others. Grayson was too social to spend his eternal days locked up in an office somewhere and besides, Azrael wouldn't open this place without someone with experience at the helm.
"Really," Jezebelle said, smiling. "Any others I might know of?" She'd been around a while and, even if this was his first vampire bar, she'd been to some of the top bars in the country, as well as in Europe. She still preferred to be in Italy, but currently felt safer on this side of the world. There was less of a chance she'd have to deal with old acquantences... but then again, with Lex in town, maybe that wasn't so true. Jezebelle liked to think she got along with most the people in her house, but Lex always rubbed her the wrong way. This evening had been no exception. At least she hadn't stabbed him again.
"Depends on how well you've traveled," he said. "Over the years, I've had the pleasure of opening places in several different cities, Los Angeles, Seattle," he'd liked Seattle, even with all the rain, "Philadelphia, but the New York ones are always my favorite. Only started one or two overseas, however, my work has kept me mostly in the States for the time being." Yes, Grayson was a citizen and yes, he had been one before he'd been turned. He did rather like the fact that his accent never quite faded over time, still as British as the day he stepped off the boat, literally. Sometimes, he did miss the days of the speakeasy, him and Eric never quite knowing which was up and when the police would come knocking again and if they'd be able to talk them out of shutting them down this time. Perhaps running the state's first vampire bar would be a comparable feeling. Certainly something Grayson wouldn't forget any time soon.
"I've been to LA and New York. It's possible I've been through one of your places at some time or another," Jezebelle smiled. "I haven't seen as much of the US as I probably should have by now, but I grew up overseas and spent most of my time there. You could say I waited till commercial airlines were available before crossing all the way to the US." Travel by boat just hadn't appealed to her. While it would be easy enough to feed and then drop her victims off the side of the boat, she didn't want to risk attracting attention in such a confined space. Plus, Dixen hadn't wanted to visit the US early on and she hadn't bothered to fight him on it. His connections had been in Europe, so that was where they'd remained until they both desired somewhere different.
"Eventually we all make it to New York and LA," he said. The bigger cities always attracted more of their kind, as it was easier to blend into the background, at least prior to the Light of May. Now, it was socially acceptable for a vampire to go out during the day if they chose to, at least technically. Grayson had always gone out anyway, blaming the cold in his hands on poor circulation, and always, always, kept his fangs hidden. "And bless your soul, I first came by boat. I was very grateful to get back to London via an airplane, several years later." The trip across the ocean hadn't necessarily been a bad one, but he couldn't remember another time when he was so happy to see Manhattan. It likely helped that he'd made that trip as a human, and not as a vampire.
"I heard it was a long trip," Jezebelle smiled. These days, she could probably handle a boat, but back then, never. "Is that where you're originally from? London?" She could hear the accent, but that could easily be acquired over time. Her own accent was British, but that was due to learning English from a British tutor. It was easy to add the Italian flair, but that always seemed overly dramatic. "I hope you don't mind me being nosy. I'm enjoying talking to you, and it's a drastic improvement upon my evening." Screw Lex and his chauvinistic ways. She'd get what she needed elsewhere and he'd have nothing to do with it. He'd lost a sale all because he was a bastard. Let him sit and spin on that.
Grayson chuckled. "Indeed. Enough to ensure that you were definitely sure you wanted to go before you made the reservations." And long enough to persuade him that maybe he could make things work in New York after all; the speakeasy had definitely not been what he was expecting. But without it, he definitely wouldn't be where he was now. "And it's quite alright. To answer your question, yes, I was originally from London, I made the trip across the pond when I was a much younger man. I'm glad to help with your evening. Though, dare I ask the same of you, where you originally came from?" He could pick up a little British in the voice, but you never knew with people these days.
"I grew up in Italy, mostly Florance and Rome, so my native language is still Italian," Jezebelle answered. She hardly had reason to speak it these days, though Nikita often conversed with her in it. It was such a joy to be able to talk without worry of people listening in, as so few Americans spoke more than their own language. After she was turned, she'd returned with Dixen to France, and from there they'd covered the majority of Europe. Leaving had originally been meant to let time pass before she could return without fear of running into people who might recognize her, but Jezebelle had no real wish to return. Her memories of her human life were not sweet enough to reminisce over. "But my tutor was British. I've been told it flavors my accent," she smiled.
"Such beautiful country, I haven't had a chance to travel it as much as I would like." But Grayson's life would be a long one, and he knew he'd find an opportunity to go to Europe again. If it came down to it, he would make the time. He did that for London, and when he went to India. Remembering the details of that conversation with Saoirse made him smile a little, mostly to himself. "I can hear a hint of it in your voice, yes. Many of us transplants to the States still stick out a bit." Better he be remembered for being British than being a vampire, in his opinion. Since the Light of May, and the decisions made by the House of Azrael, it wasn't like Grayson could keep that secret anymore.
"It was," Jezebelle said, thinking back briefly to her time in Italy. The country had been beautiful and sometimes she forgot that, her memories overshadowed by the people that had tarnished her living life. "I had this little garden on our estate, walled in with a little gate and key. I think that's where I first fell in love with flowers." It had been her escape. She could spend hours locked in that garden. Now she wanted to go home and tend to her own greenhouse. "We all end up somewhere different eventually," she said. "At least, we used to, when we couldn't go home. It's so different for those that can transition these days." She had questions for Graham, if they could ever get to them. They had so much to talk about that it never seemed like everything was covered, but then Jezebelle didn't want to rush it. They had all the time in the world.
He nodded, "It sounds lovely." And it really did. He'd travelled to Italy, yes, and seen such gardens, but he'd never had anything like that for himself. Grayson's talents did not lie with plants and flowers, but with people. Even as a child he'd been in his father's restaurant, not necessarily cooking but learning how things were run. If he hadn't been drafted, if he hadn't taken Eric up on his offer to come to the States, he likely would have been the one running the restaurant. He also would have never been turned. That decision was one he never regretted, knowing that it gave him the chance to redeem himself from the bottle, become the person he was supposed to be. "It's very true, especially in the light of current events, the ease of travel, knowing you could go back if you wanted to." Like Saoirse, the opportunity to know her family was still there. His had been all but gone by the time he'd chosen this life.
"I would not return," Jezebelle said, very sure of her answer. "But life was different then. I had no desire to go back, and now there's nothing left for me but memories." While there were a few she cherished, Jezebelle found her home country to bring her more nightmares than anything else. It was still the land where the worst had happened to her, where she'd been willing to die to get away, where she'd learned to kill and fight for her survival. As many positives that had come from the experience, the negative still left her scarred. "Circumstances are different for everyone, though. I think it is nice to have the option, if nothing else. I also like being able to stay here and not worry about people noticing that I don't age."
Her answer was immediate and direct, and Grayson could tell when not to push a subject further. Not every vampire had as many good memories of their past as he did, he was already aware of that fact. He knew he could go back to New York City, and London, and still be fascinated by the changes and the echoes of what he remembered. "I agree, it's a decision we each come to on our own," he said, leaving it at that. Grayson was not the type to pry for information without good reason, not in a situation like this. It was simply a note made in his mind and then pushed to the side. "It's amazing, isn't it? The fact that we can stay in an area as small as this for any period of time. Still not quite used to it myself." Scarlet Oak was rather small for Grayson's tastes, truth be told. But with Heme's opening and the recent changes he could already see around here, that might not last forever.
Jezebelle wasn't used to it, but she was definitely enjoying it. She didn't need to move to get her work done-- in fact, it was easier to stay in business when she didn't have to re-establish herself in a different city. With her ties set up in Detroit, Jezebelle was sitting pretty for at least the near future. And she liked Scarlet Oak. The only reasons she had to leave were people that pissed her off, and they were easy enough to avoid. "It hasn't been reality long," she smiled. "I'm sure we'll grow accustomed to it as time passes." As she finished her glass of blood, Jezebelle took a deep breath, taking time to feel the air in her lungs. She was feeling much better now, certainly not as angry as she'd been when she came in, and was thinking it was time to head out. Perhaps she'd see about dropping by the closest asylum. "I should be going," she said. "Thank you for keeping me company, Grayson. It's been a pleasure."
"Here's hoping." Really, they were all adjusting in the wake of the Light of May - just because you knew there were other supernatural races out there, it didn't mean you were prepared to have all of that open to the public. Grayson had never expected to be in this position - owning the bar, yes, having everyone know he was a vampire, no. Eventually that would come back to haunt him, but he was trying to prepare himself for that. As Jezebelle got ready to leave, Grayson offered her a smile. "And likewise. Hopefully I'll see you again at some point in the future." Gathering his paperwork, he glanced out over the bar again. There was always something he could be doing, somewhere he could lend a hand. And at the moment, it was about time he got back to work.