(no subject)

[onceaviking]

The door opens and a vampire walks through.
He's at work it seems. Tight black clothes, smeared lipstick on his cheek.
He also doesn't mind a break.

Headed for the bar first to get something to get rid of the lipstick with, and then taking up a booth, sprawling.

Comments

[photographs_well]

"What, not your color?" Liz can't help but ask from a little way down the bar as he wipes the lipstick off.

She could get used to this, she thinks, the easy informality of this place, being able to talk to just anyone.

[onceaviking]

He looks over and gives her a small smile.
"No, I rather prefer pink," he replies as he casts a look down at the tissue.

He's got very blue eyes.

[photographs_well]

"Only got red, I'm afraid," Liz replies. Her own eyes are dark, her expression deadpan. "Though I'm sure this bar could help you out, it seems to have everything else."

[onceaviking]

His lips twitch a little.

"I prefer acquiring lipstick second hand," he replies. "I'm Eric. Hi."

Too far away to offer a hand to shake.

[photographs_well]

Well, after a comment like that, Liz can hardly bridge the distance without giving the wrong impression, so she just offers a nod of greeting.

"Elizabeth Imbrie," she says. "I'm sure there's plenty of that around here, too."

[tu_vas_triompher]

"Oh!"

Look, a small and startled Frenchman!

"Oh, I was just--ah--I was looking for you, sir. I have the--" From the way he nods at the large bundle in his arms, you'd think it was contraband.

[onceaviking]

"Good," Eric says, looking pleased.

[never_promised]

((ooc: oh crumbs i just realized i'm about to be going out for the day--but i'll be back with fwee and the fans!!))

[tu_vas_triompher]

"It's--let me put them down--" There's plenty of room on the booth table; he unties the twine and carefully unwraps the rough paper he'd wrapped the fans in. "I hope--I think you'll be happy. I painted them under both red light and bright whites, like you'd expect for a stage, so I think they should, should work--"

This is all so much easier as long as no one talks about vampires. He opens one fan, and then a second. Skulls and flowers--some roses, some poppies. On the second fan, the skull has small horns, and pointed teeth. Feuilly bites his lip and glances at Eric's face.

[onceaviking]

Eric looks them over, face still and unreadable as always.

When he reaches the diabolical skull, his fingers hesitate - briefly.
Then he smiles.
Just a little.


"They are as I wanted them," he says, looking up at Feuilly. "They will look very nice onstage."

He's pleased. Though not demonstratively so.

[tu_vas_triompher]

That's fine. Feuilly doesn't need or want effusive praise; they'll work is what he wants to know. He nods.

And then he smiles too, just a little. "I happened to meet a friend of yours, um, from Germany. He recommended the--horns."

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"Good evening, Eric Northman!"

That is Ragnar Lothbrok at the bar, ordering birch-sap.

To Eric's sensitive senses, he might still smell a tiny bit of alcohol by-products, exhaust fumes, and motor oil.

[onceaviking]

Eric wrinkles his nose a little.
"Ragnar Lothbrok."

Neutrally.

He nods at the glass. "Not going to try with the hair of the dog?"

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"No, this time, it has to be birch sap," Ragnar says, with a rueful little smile.

[onceaviking]

"I never found it all that efficient myself," Eric says, lounging.

[bigarmy_strangepants]

"I do," Ragnar says. "But that might be because I'm used to it. We got to drink it in spring sometimes when I was young."

[truckasaurus_mitts]

"Yeah, that so wasn't your color," Lana says, stopping by his table with a revoltingly sweet tropical drink, complete with umbrella, in her hand.

Somehow blood red seems more his style.

(The narration totally did not see Liz's comment above. It blames its lack of coffee.)

[onceaviking]

Eric looks up at her and smiles.

"Just my thought."

[truckasaurus_mitts]

Lana takes a long, loud sip of her drink and stares openly at Eric. It's hard to smirk while you suck daiquiri out of a straw, but she manages.

"Hi."

She looks like she has been taking full advantage of the beach they talked about when she first arrived. It's obscene, really, how utterly relaxed she is at the moment. Not relaxed enough to leave off her guns, but definitely not acting like she minds playing hooky from work for a few days.

[onceaviking]

"Hi," Eric says, smiling a little.
Looking at her.
Appreciatively.

[truckasaurus_mitts]

There's a lot of appreciation going on.

Cyril who?

"So I've been exploring," she says. "Big fan of the beach. And the firing range."

There's nothing like shooting guns in a bikini to lighten her mood.

[not_that_count]

There is another vampire sitting nearby reading a paper called "Vampire Times."

He isn't wearing his formal cape, but is wearing what might be seen as "gothic" attire. His hair is long and he is smiling about something.

There is a glass of the horrible synthetic blood at his elbow and a bottle of something more pleasant for later.

[onceaviking]

Eric sees the newspaper and groans silently.
Seriously?

Who'd have known that the worst aspect of the bar at the end of the world would be other vampires?

He ignores him.
(And keeps an eye on him at the same time. You can do that if you're discreet).

[not_that_count]

"Ha!"

He folded the paper and waved down a rat.

"A clean glass please," he said, "This news calls for celebration."

[onceaviking]

Eric has spotted the glass. And the other bottle.

His nostrils flare a little as he tries to pick up on the relevant scents.