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Post by Smoothie on Dec 24, 2005 2:21:51 GMT
I think He's only a few down, isn't that right? He's not really 'hungry' so I think it's safe for him to top off. If he feels the guy get too weak before he finishes he'll try not to kill him though.
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Post by Storyteller on Dec 24, 2005 16:59:29 GMT
Yeah, he only needs 2 vitae, which he's now taken.
You savour a little of the blood, but it has a slightly rough taste, which you've grown to recognise as malnourishment, which takes away the best taste of it. When you're done, you push the tramp to one side, and he slides down the wall, largely unconcious, but looking fairly worn still from the horror he saw.
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Post by Smoothie on Dec 25, 2005 12:31:46 GMT
Wic dabs around his lips with a handkurchief, and stows it back into his pocket, then resumes his walk toward the meeting place.
He has a bad feeling about this meeting, but his pride over-rides his caution.
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Post by Storyteller on Dec 27, 2005 14:37:17 GMT
You eventually reach the meeting point, arriving, again, slightly early. You sit down at the same table, grabbing something to read again, only this time, you don't focus on it, you're too busy watching out.
About 10 minutes later, at 1 minute past 10, a man with dreadlocks, a zip up jumper, and tracksuit bottoms walks in, headphones in ears, with the wire feeding back to a backpack. He gets a coffee, and comes over to your table. He leans in, over your paper, slightly too close to what you'd like,
"Anyone sitting here?"
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Post by Smoothie on Dec 28, 2005 7:28:37 GMT
Time to stack the deck, just in case: Nightmare 2: Dread. Might even clear out some innocents if it does get ugly.
"Why, you are, my friend. I reserve it for you." He puts down the paper, smiles a slightly too-wide smile and motions to the vacant chair while rising very slightly.
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Post by Storyteller on Dec 31, 2005 11:38:20 GMT
Spent one vitae. Dread roll: 3 successes
You feel the atmosphere of the room very subtly change, and you enjoy, as you have before, the sight of so many peoples' faces changing expressions. A couple of people finish up and leave rather more quickly than seems normal, for, to you at least, fairly obvious reasons. You turn back to your 'visitor', who looks a little unsettled, but still not likely to go anywhere fast.
"Thank you"
Is all he says, and he slips off his rucksack, and tucks it under the table, before moving on to his coffee, relaxing back in his chair. From what you can see, he's the only person in the whole place doing any relaxing, thanks to you.
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Post by Smoothie on Dec 31, 2005 11:45:13 GMT
Wic glances down at the backpack. "Do you have anything to say to me?"
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Post by Storyteller on Dec 31, 2005 11:57:06 GMT
He looks at you for a second, studying you, before he finally speaks, his voice slightly forced.
"I'm sorry man, you must have got me confused with someone else."
He finishes his coffee in one gulp, gets up, and leaves without a backward glance, leaving you puzzled for a moment, until you glance down again. The backpack is still sitting there.
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Post by Smoothie on Dec 31, 2005 11:59:01 GMT
Wic picks up the bag and carefully opens it in such a way that others cannot see inside.
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Post by Storyteller on Dec 31, 2005 12:06:15 GMT
Inside the bag are a few pieces stuffing, that smack of a newly-bought bag, and, more importantly, a black moneybelt, branded "Lowe-Alpine". Unzipping it slightly reveals numerous bills.
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Post by Smoothie on Dec 31, 2005 12:11:42 GMT
Victor pays, then uses the toilet. In a stall he checks the moneybelt carefully, puts $500 in his pocket, then hides it under his clothes. He keeps the bag, wearing lightly on his back.
He heads out of the restaurant and heads toward his appartment building that he likes to watch while wondering about other kindred in the city...
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