Conversations (open)

[sabasti112]

"What of the security? Do you believe we are all not safe in this building? If a man with a gun walks in and threatens to murder everyone?"

The man to whom Ben was speaking with spoke quickly and without pause, his words seeming to cause no trepidation in Ben's features. His face was the model of the comforting repose he showed when he was having an altercation with a human. In being content with keeping his face in complete figure to his unnerving aurora of ease he would set the other man into a complete daze, fumbling with his words as the man tried to stay on top of the conversation.

Lifting his left hand Ben placed his index finger to his temple and smiled, showing his alabaster teeth, each set as if to perfection. Even more so to the human, he would appear to be some what of the image of a cast down angel, his body appearing to glow, catching the attention of anyone in the room with direct line of sight. This would be called allure, his or what his race acquires when they are either reborn, as he calls it, or turned into a vampire. One of his most choice attributes he uses to keep his prey flocking to the slaughter house.

" The security in this building is somewhat of lacking the equipment to do much of anything if said man with gun..."

Ben paused slightly as he smirked before resuming to divulge further to this man the absolute ease a man could walk in here and murder everyone in this building. Due to the deficient security.

".... or a man with an acquired strength, whom could posses a blood lusting thirst, hell bent on corruption due to a very long and dreadful past.

At this time Ben could have kept his eyes closed and could tell you the look on any ones face as he finished his point of perspective on a building he did not live in, but had walked in and already knew how to do and who were the most of interest he would want to kill.


The man whom was talking to Benji was of the higher up class of in the human society. His name being of no importance to Benji, nor was the amount of money he owned. It was his blood Benji was after, this man carried the traits Benji sought for in his victims. Benji didn't just go around and bite anyone he saw on the street, that to him would be the very worst, acting like a bottom feeder taking anyone's life he took attention to. Benji always looked for the higher up of society, they always seem to sate him the most. Their petty screams leaving their bodies, as their minds raced through thoughts that were meager, asking why them. Why would they be here getting their throat ripped out, when they were rich and out of harms way of everything. But that's not true, and that was the fact of it all.

[Julian McAllister]

If you had asked the lycan on the corner what made him suspect there were an unusual number of people on the ground floor of the apartment building on the upcoming block, he'd have responded with a questionable shrug and some lame excuse meant more to be a joke than to be factual. Clueless to the nature of the that had attacked just weeks earlier, he believed his full moons to be nights full of harmless sleepwalking, while random stray dogs roamed the city streets, picking victims from their homes and their beds. It all seemed so casual in his mind, even as he pulled open the gold-lined glass doors and stepped into the apartment lobby, the sense of being able to identify people with their backs turned to him, hearing the dull hum of the classical music playing at low volume even long before he was in range of the speakers. Nope, it was all totally normal.

So was being the lone figure in a dingy gray set of coveralls with "Cleaning Staff" printed in bold letters on the back. Didn't seem to phase him at all, even as he wove through the sea of suits and cocktail dresses to make his way to the security desk, smiling idly at all of the faces that turned to watch him as he passed. A normal person might have felt self conscious, but Julian simply assumed his imposing height and towering stature was what was really drawing their attention, pausing in his internal musing to tip his hat toward a crowd of ladies left practically gawking awkwardly in his wake. They seemed like nice people. Not that he was here to socialize, but the thought made it easier to smile at them warmly as he passed by, coming to a rest with his elbows on the fine marble counter of the security desk.

The guard seated at the desk looked up with cold disdain, but the lycan simply smiled brightly in return, as if preparing to say something. But he was saved the trouble when a familiar bearded face popped out of the crowd and gloved hand grabbed his arm roughly.

"Dammit Junior, where the fuck have you been all night?We are up to our ass in empty toilet paper tubes and empty champagne bottles here."

There was a harsh tone beneath the thick scottish accent of the short, stout little pot-bellied man who began tugging the lycan along by the sleeve of his coveralls. He was probably half the werewolf's height, maybe five-foot-two or five-foot-three with chubby cheeks and a round nose, but he wore the same uniform as the taller, lanky figure being hustled along behind him so it was pretty clear that their jobs were similar, if very different in terms of power, judging by the apologetic smile being aimed at the scottsman's bald head.

"Sorry Jim. The trains were running slow tonight due to mainten-"

"I don't give a damn if you were dying from the plague or some shit. This is a high-value job here and I need someone to do it. You're that someone, so go. Toilets are clogged in the men's room and the floors need some serious mopping. Move, move. Don't you fuck this up for me Junior, I will rip your teeth out through your asshole, I swear to god."

Though the portly man continued his fuming tirade, his taller lacky didn't hear a word of it, shuffling off in the direction he was shoved like a scolded dog, muttering soft apologies and excuses under his breath as he made his way to the men's room door. Finding a mop and bucket waiting for him in the door jam, he wheeled the materials into the spacious tiled room and set about his business, moving to one of the fouler-smelling stalls to remedy this clogged toilet situation. Not without a significantly disgusted scowl on his face, however.