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Brittany repressed a sad sigh as she quietly watched the gentleman gather up his coat, walk to the bar to pay his tab, took one last almost disgusted look at her and walked out of the bar. The bartender gave her a 'tough luck' look and shrugged his shoulders at her then went back to mixing drinks for the couple that was sitting across the counter from him. And she began to wish she had just ignored the urges she had been having lately and stayed home like she usually did.
Everything about the experience had been strange. It had started a few days earlier when she was reminded once again of the life she had been trying to forget - but this time she found herself overcome not by the desire to repress the memories as she always did but, strangely enough, to find a way to make amends for the horrors her family had committed.
So she had come here, to a bar that she knew was frequented by vampires because her brother had made her come here to 'hunt' with him on several occasions, sat down in a corner booth and watched the other other patrons as they came and went until she found herself being asked by a gentleman if he could sit across from her.
She had smiled and nodded her head and watched as he sat down. But everything went down hill from there. First he had asked if he could buy her a drink, as he noticed she had no glass in front of her, and seemed pleased when she accepted - but annoyed when she ordered a sarsaparilla instead of a scotch or a brandy. And the conversation ... well maybe she should have just kept her mouth closed. As he had begun to realize that the girl sitting across from him wasn't likely to enjoy attending a strip joint with him and that she was interested in such boring things as science and history and enjoyed opera he became less and less interested in her. Then the final straw had come when he had decided to brag about his own job as an accountant and then asked her what she did for a living.
Unfortunately for him Brittany had become just as bored and annoyed with his company as he was with hers and her calm response of "well right now I'm an artistic painter but I used to help hunters lure vampires, demons and lycans into traps so they could kill them," had him looking at her like she was crazy. Almost, it seemed he was thinking of asking her if she was joking but then he seemed to change his mind and simply stood up, tipped his hat to her, gathered up his coat and headed over to the bar.
She hadn't whispered the information to him, nor had she shouted it. She had simple delivered it as if it were a regular part of the conversation and that seemed to be what disturbed him the most. If he was human, and from her experience she suspected that he was, he was either very new to SDA or had so far been lucky enough to avoid learning about the other 'species' that lived, worked and played along side himself and his fellow men.
It occurred to her, as she reached for her sarsaparilla once again, that others may have heard her statement and that those others might be of a supernatural nature and that many of them would probably not be pleased or amused by what they had heard. It occurred to her that she ought to be scared, especially with what she knew about that particular bar, but instead she felt a deep sense of guilt, and it wasn't for driving that guy off. She put the bottle to her lips to take a swig but put it back on the table before the liquid even came half way to her mouth and hung her head. What was she doing here, she wondered? She didn't really have a set plan. Maybe the crazy thing was that she had thought she could repair the damage that had been done by several generations of hunters all on her own.
Staring at the bottle in front of her she tried to make a decision about whether she should just get up, walk out and limit her activities to day light hours only or stay there and let come what may.
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Dancing in the Dark, {open}
