milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Pam is getting restless.

She and Eric haven't gone back home in a while, but now she's feeling the itch, even if she's not looking forward to what awaits them. A giant pain in the ass, is what.

But she isn't leaving without Eric. When he says it's time to go, then they'll go together. She just hopes he's had enough time to come up with a plan. And it's not like she's been completely idle, she's been wracking her brain trying to think of something, too, but how to kill a 3,000 year old vampire isn't in her field of expertise.

So what else can you do but sit at a table with a laptop and compose a very long and detailed email to your personal shopper in Chicago about overhauling your entire wardrobe.

She's not very botherable and never really has been, ever. But she won't bite your face off. This time. Probably.

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"Oh, you'd be surprised. There are people out there who find the idea of vampires very alluring. And erotic."

"They take pleasure in being prey?" Katrina asks.

"Mmhmmm," she purrs with a nod. "It makes their blood run that much sweeter, but there's nothing like the rush of fear."

"So it will taste best if you hunt unwilling prey," Katrina states.

"Plus it makes things less boring," she says wryly.

"It's gotten different in modern times. You can't get away with as much as you could a hundred years ago." She shrugs. "But whatever. A meal is a meal. And there are always humans looking for a thrill."

"Whatever do they get our of it?" Katrina asks.

"You'll have to ask them if you really want a straight answer. My Maker comes here, too, so between us, there are quite a few of these willing victims here. Who knows? You might even know one already."

"You are -- plying your trade, here?" Katrina says. "Isn't that forbidden? Business?"

Pam arches an eyebrow.

"It's not a business, honey," she says flatly. "I'm not a whore. I'm a vampire. And I'm always hungry. When I tell people what I am, they either run, or their curiosity gets the better of them, and before they know it, my teeth are in their throat."

To punctuate her statement, her eyes flick slowly from Katrina's pretty face down to her equally pretty throat, and then back again.

"They either take fright, or succumb?" Katrina says. "None will stand up to you and look you in the eye and say they wish no acquaintance with a monster, but will not cede their space to it?"

"Only if they want to piss me off. It's not my problem what they choose to do. And it is their choice."

She looks her in the eye, a slight twitch to her lips.

"So are you going to tell me that you 'wish no acquaintance' with me?"

"I'm not scared of you, and I'm not going to be your next meal," Katrina says, "so is it not very likely you wish any acquaintance with me."

"And I guess you don't want to have sex with me either," she says with equal parts bluntness and sarcasm.

"Hardly, as I am a married woman," Katrina says. "As I have told you."

"Oh, I don't mind if you're married," she says flippantly. "What's your husband like? He can come, too."

"He fights demons," Katrina says, with a little smile.

"Mm, sounds hot. I think there are a few demons around here that need vanquishing, but unfortunately vanquishing is against the rules."

"He has enough of that at home," Katrina says, easily. "You're safe."

She snorts a dry chuckle.

"I'm not a demon, either, honey. I'm no spawn of hell or some kind of biblical abomination. I don't have anything to do with evil gods or black magic. So whatever you think a vampire is, you're probably wrong, at least about the kind that I am. But now you've just made me curious about the hubby. I'm kind of looking forward to running into him now."

Katrina just smiles with fond amusement, imagining the bone-dry sarcasm Ichabod will employ to brush off a vampire propositioning him to be prey.

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