Justin sighs and leans back, placing his hands behind his head and watching the writhing bodies on the dancefloor. Typically, the number of people in the club would be alluring, making him want to dance, but tonight was not the night. Tonight, he'd broken up with Wren. A sweet guy whom Justin had broken. He knew he'd feel shitty about it, but his five years in New York City were up in a few days. Justin wondered why he'd even bothered to date Wren. He knew he couldn't last in a long relationship, but one hook-up had turned into two, two to three, and three turned into a date. A single date turned into ten dates; the next thing Justin knew, he was dating Wren.

     He drops his face into his hand and flags down the bartender. The older guy, about mid-forties with graying hair at his temples, gave Justin a sideways glance, "Another whisky, mate?" At Justin's nod, the man pulls out a fresh glass, pours the amber liquid into it, and slides it to Justin.

     "Thank you." Justin murmurs, lifting the glass to his mouth. He then stands with a soft rustle from his jacket. He downs the whisky and sets the glass down, waving to the bartender, who is watching him with concern. "I will be fine, do not worry about me."

     Despite, what was it, ten glasses? Of whisky, Justin was perfectly sober. If he wanted to get drunk, all he would have to do was add a drop of blood to the alcoholic beverage, but he only liked doing that to wine. The crimson blood would be noticeable in the amber liquid of the whisky, while in red wine, it was not.

     He walks down three small steps from the bar and casts his gaze about for his next mark. He was hungry and had a bad craving. He wasn't craving a burger or steak but blood. Maybe one of the girls dancing in the circle on the right side of the dancefloor. Or maybe. . . His gaze slides to a table where a young woman sits by herself.

     She looked like she would suit his needs perfectly. Alone, no companion in sight. There would be no one to advise her from spending time with the mysterious, handsome stranger. He walked over to her, and the thought crossed his mind that she could be lesbian, and therefore, his typical ways of getting blood wouldn't work. He shakes his head and slides into the seat next to her, making the way slightly sloppy. He hated pretending to be inebriated, but it was currently necessary for him to get what he needed.

     The young woman looks up and eyes him. She had dark hair that was messy from a night of clubbing. She looked like a trashcan panda, or a raccoon, with smokey eyes and smeared eyeliner. Justin smiles, "Hey, you look like you need something to lighten up your night."

     She laughs and sways slightly to the music, "Maybe I don't need something. Maybe I need. . ." She lowers her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "Someone to lighten my night."

     Justin smiles and tilts his head, "Maybe. . ." He laughs softly and leans back, sliding his gaze over her and then back to her face. Justin wasn't one to spend his time with women, preferring the company of men. But that never stopped him from bedding with a particularly beautiful woman, though this one was not his taste. He wondered if he should follow through with his plan if it would leave the woman wanting something she couldn't have. Or he could bite her, take a quick snack, and leave before she knew what was happening. However, Justin prefers willing participants rather than forced ones. He doubted it was willing if his chosen snacks didn't know WHY he was biting them.

     Most of the time, the bite felt too good for a human to realize what was happening. Then, with a quick lick, the wound would heal with no one the wiser. Well, the vampire with a good snack and the human with a euphoria. Justin's gaze fell to the woman's neck, and she noticed this, a coy smile spreading across her lips, "Are you interested in being that someone?"

     Justin laughs, leaning forward, close enough so the woman can hear his low voice over the beating bass of the music, "Do you want me to be that someone?" He was too deep into this to back out. He could quickly get his meal and pretend he had an important call, then leave her with the promise to try and come back. Of course, Justin wouldn't come back. He'd leave the city at a sprint, heading to the next one he'd picked for the next five years.

     LA, Los Angeles, The City of Angels. Or, what Justin referred to as The City of Lost Angels because most people who go there are lost, and most of those lost are angels. In a figurative sense, of course. The real Lost Angels assembled in Las Vegas to wallow away their sorrows, gambling, and drinking, kind of like Justin did these days.

     The woman smiles, and her hand grips the front of his shirt, fisting the old band logo on it and pulling him closer, kissing him. Her lips tasted of alcohol, and she smelled of tobacco and roses. It was not a pleasant scent; the tobacco was probably from her partner or someone else. The roses were her perfume, but if he breathed deeper, he could get a slightly sweet smell of vanilla and blood. He moves away from her mouth, kissing down her jaw to her neck, resting his mouth over the pulse point on her neck.

     Her hand was still fisted in his shirt while the other snaked around his neck, pulling him close and holding him there. He takes a moment, kissing again, preparing himself before he strikes. His fangs slid into her neck with ease, and he took ten swallows before pulling away and giving a quick lick. He keeps kissing, waiting for the bite to heal. Just as he's about to pull away to feign a call, his phone buzzes in his back pocket.

      He blinks and pulls away, "Sorry, give me a moment." He pulls the device out of his pocket and scowls. Justin was not tech-savvy and hated the small, annoying, and glowing device in his hand. He reads the screen, CHARLIE. He sighs and answers the call, "What in the three hells do you want, Charlie? I am having fun."

      He gives the woman an apologetic smile and gets up, walking a few feet away. "You never 'have fun', Justin. It's always drinking, partying, and feeding for you."

     Justin rolls his eyes, huffing, "What do you want." He walks past people, careful not to run into any of them, and steps out of the club, waving to the bouncers standing by the door.

     Charlie laughs, his voice cheerful, "Justin! Don't be mean! I want to see you before you leave New York for a long time. Come to my penthouse."

     "You mean, you want to convince me to stay another year?"

     "Well, there is that super sweet boy. . . What was his name? Wren, why don't you stay for him?"

     Justin felt his heart squeeze tightly. He didn't know when it had happened, but he had fallen for Wren just as hard and fast as the human had fallen for Justin. "I broke up with him today, Char; there is no staying. You know my rules and the vampires' code."

     Charlie hums, "I know, I'm going to miss you. Maybe I'll come see you in the lost city."

     Justin nods, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. "Yeah, maybe. But you know me, I will be busy partying." Justin wondered if partying would be as fun as it used to be. He was so used to going out and doing it with Wren that he wondered if it would ever be the same without the boy. However, Wren was quiet, reserved, and a fantastic dancer and could move ideally in time with the music. He closes his eyes, picturing Wren beside him, touching his arm and begging him to stay, just as he had done just a few hours ago.