Who: Tara and Peter What: A vampire and a werewolf walk into a bar and ... there's a punchline somewhere there. When: Peter's arrival. Where: Fangtasia
Peter Hale has never been a man to hold back on his vices.
He embraces them. Perhaps, Derek will refer to him as hedonistic but a man has to enjoy what life has to offer. So, if life offers an opportunity for a good scotch on the rocks in these troubled times, he will seize that opportunity. Thank you very much. The Fangtasia is well kept and well stocked. Still whole and free from zombies. It's nice to be able to breathe for a moment. There's something about this place that entices his already heightened senses. Something tugging at his gut that he can't quite place. Whatever it is, it's enough incentive for him to saunter his way into the bar. Quiet foot steps like a wolf on the prowl.
He tries to recollect. How long has it been since he's spoken to anyone? A near six months of wandering - a wolf without a pack - it's almost refreshing to smell life. He arms himself with a smile; the kind of smile a salesperson wears when he tries to sell meat to vegetarians. A hint of playfulness ghosts in his expression. The barebones of the charming young man he was before his life went up in smoke.
( Figuratively and literally. )
He manages to pull up a chair by the bar. Flip through a menu briefly before he turns to the barkeep.
"Fangtasia," he says - rolls the word around in his tongue. "I can't say I've been here before. Quite the selection you have."
There's an instinctive press of his tongue to swipe at his own canines- as if to double check the fact they're still there.