Scene #6792: Interview With A Vampire

Owner	Pose
Roxas	Following a previous incident involving a mysterious job hijacker and an outbreak of plague-riddled vampires, Raziel and Riku have each pursued their own individual avenues of inquiry into the local vampire population. The specific overarching species of vampires involved in this incident are identified by outsiders as the Black Court. The junior Reaper girl who had been involved in the job last time had been able to explain things a little more, for the sake of avoiding confusion: There are two overarching species of hemophages that can be mistaken for one another. The best-known are the Black Court, who are for the most part "traditional" undead who consume the blood of others to keep on ticking and who do not always have a strictly living appearance. Though, she adds, that those who look like corpses are a specific subspecies that don't get around much because it's hard for them to operate outside of the Underground without causing an incident. Their weaknesses are likewise fairly traditional, although some amount of power has to be behind holy symbols for them to work. The Red Court is unrelated to this incident, and largely consists of biologically living hemophages. The White Court aren't hemophages at all, and can't be differentiated between humans unless they've got their powers turned on. The night clubs, the Reaper had explained, are almost always full of them but they're the vampires who are most likely to avoid going overboard as often as possible. The local "head" of the Black Court (though the Reaper had cautioned that this was a shaky distinction, as all vampires are like large cats and don't really come to actual consensus often) is a man named Alexander Thompson, who also happens to be a relative newcomer, though powerful enough that this fact didn't matter much. The biggest gathering point of vampires in the city is a nightclub known as The Witching Hour. Not coincidentally, it is located at a major intersection in Detroit. The sheer number of Things wandering around that intersection is mind-boggling, and equally mind-boggling is the simple lack of conflict in this area. At least one nearby taco stand is manned by what looks like some kind of minotaur. The local vampires who don't look like zombies aren't particularly aggressive. The goth club scene isn't especially charged with Problems, although it's reasonably well known that people have been going missing lately and just never being heard from again. Given how she acted during her one direct encounter, it's probable that the Contessa has simply forced rivals out of the limelight, and they've found somewhere else to be bloodsucking monsters. It's a little odd that she's not clearly identified as being present around all the disappearances, though. The Witching Hour is a large multi-level night club. Markings on the front entrance near the sign declare it to be ACCORDED NEUTRAL GROUND, which is a fancy way of saying that everyone who usually hates each other in the supernatural world has decided they like this place as an arbitration / no interference zone well enough to come down on people who cause too much trouble in it. An expansive bar rings recessed booths surrounding a central dance floor, with a visible loft ringed with transparent glass railing and more relaxed seating above. A roped-off third floor that no doubt is a higher-end version of the loft reserved for the owner and VIPs can be accessed by elevator or stairs, both of which have two bouncers each minding them. One of the bouncers is a rather innocuous-looking woman that can be identified by any "supers" (read: PCs) as a demon presenting as human, and the other is a robust-looking... mortal? It's just a guy. Weird.
Raziel	'The more I learn about the vampires of this world, the more diverse and divided I see they are. I suppose choosing to hide one's self instead of raising a world-spanning empire would do much to create factions and divisions. Still, the kind we were going for was the kind that I most had in common...well, I once had in common.' Raziel, a ghost on the other side, pushes himself from the other side into the real world with nothing but just willpower, manifesting himself a body where there was once spirit. The sights and sounds of the club greeted him, as he walked towards the door. Raziel had taken to dressing in a different attire than his natural ratty rags that he died in. This time, he managed to manifest in an outfit that was akin to a combination of modern clothing, and rustic armor that mingled together in just the right ways. Fortunate was he that his allies in the Concord could provide for him. The man they were looking for was an Alexander Thompson. The demon gets a side-eye, but it was clear that Raziel was hardly human...or naturally corporeal himself. The ball of energy around his arm seemed ravenous at the sight of the bouncer, but for now, Raziel remained in control of their...alliance. 'The bar was a loud, but an expensive-looking sight to behold. One would guess that the person who would know where the people are is the bartender. From there, it was just a matter of arranging the meeting. Hopefully, my affiliation and influence could assist me...if not then other more forceful methods maybe necessary. I would like to avoid this, if at all possible.'
Ash Williams	Ash Williams is all about nightclubs. He's not really concerned about why someone sniped the job from his benefactors, but he is at least marginally concerned about vampires flooding a large city in his home state. Even someone as lazy as Ash realizes it's better to but the kibosh on that kind of thing sooner rather than later. That being said, there's no reason he can't enjoy himself. He's dumb, but he can read. He might not know the meaning of the word 'ACCORDED' but 'NEUTRAL GROUND' rings clear. He knows enough to know things that go bump in the night when he sees them. Right now, he just doesn't care. Right now, Ash is 'investigating.' He's got his finest, most polished wooden hand on, along with his cleanest work clothes (S-Mart's finest!), a brand new coat of shoe polish in his hair, some Bengay for his joints (you never know what could happen!), a smattering of cheap cologne to cover the Bengay... and a winning smile. Currently, he's regaling the nearest woman at the bar--vampire, demon, or otherwise, about how he lost his hand saving tied-up orphans from an oncoming train, already a shot of tequila in. Anyone part of the team can tell that he's pretty much just wasting time, boozing and chasing skirts.
Riku	Riku had no problems getting into a proper mode of dress for this... Mainly because his normal casual wear wouldn't actually be too far out of expectations for a place like this. Maybe he actually goes to these kinds of places on his own sometimes... But good luck getting him to admit anything about his personal time. He doesn't seem to care about the nature of the bouncers at the door. It's obvious enough what's going on. He walks right in unless they decide to stop him, and soon he's heading for the dance floor. Not to dance, but to lean against an appropriate pillar or wall and look over the area with a dark, brooding gaze, his eyes flicking back and forth as he begins to assess the many supernaturals present to decide which goth woman is most likely to be the one actually up to no good as opposed to the ones who are up to the normal amounts of no good. He doesn't have a drink in his hand, he just seems intent to scope out the environment before something unexpected happens.
Penelope Vasquez	Filtering into the nightclub, amongst the other thronging denizins, is... a pretty normal-looking woman. The only really questionable part about her is the fact she's wearing a full-length flasher trenchcoat, but aside from that? Tall, lean, hispanic. Could be any other human woman, mixing it up with the crowd. She grabs drinks from the bar, chatters at patrons, has a good time. Her eyes are scanning the crowd with militarized precision as she does so, smile glued on her face, a mix of genuine and practiced. Eventually, she spot a friendly and steps to him. Ash is given a 'friend you haven't seen in a long time' slap on the back, and a warm grin, as she steals a seat next to him. "Eeeeeeeyyy, omae, nice to see you! I'm with our mutual friends, here helping out in exchange for a favor. I gots a Plan. Capital P. Help me out with it." She digs into her pockets, pulling out a variety of very cheap looking makeup products. She undoes her coat- revealing the getup underneath. A loose tee that reads PRTY GRRL in an eyebleeding kind of font. Daisy dukes. 'Gothy' necklaces and assorted costume jewelry that look like they were bought five minutes ago. Her voice tones down, just a tad. "Help me figure out which of these products makes me look trashiest. The way to flush out someone like this in a social environment?" She gestures at herself. "I become schmuck bait and wait for the bite."
Roxas	Even if he looked substantially more ratty, Raziel wouldn't get too many strange looks here. If at all. The demon pair of the bouncers looks back at Raziel, smiling pleasantly as she does so. She has more the air of a secretary than anything else, and it's hard to get much of a feeling of great threat from her. That might be why she's at the door to begin with. "Is there something I can help you with, sir?" The demon asks. Meanwhile at the bar, Ash is chatting up a tall, attractive dark-haired woman in a silver-trimmed gold cocktail dress. Exactly /what/ she is, is difficult to tell. She's either a mortal or a subtle sort of supernatural being, because there's no especially obvious tells. Everyone here trends towards being very pretty, in some way-- although that /is/ a form of tell, after a fashion. It is one of the best advantages that supernatural predators have. "So you lost your arm. Would you like another one?" Semni asks, tipping an empty shot glass back and forth with one finger as she observes him. Riku broods in a corner, which is par for the course in this place. He attracts the attention of what is very obviously a drunk teenager, who is wearing a bright orange t-shirt and jeans. The t-shirt has something printed on it -- CAMP HALF-BLOOD. She has a shock of short, curly blonde hair and can only be described as "objectively perfect", as if she sprung directly off of the page of a magazine. She's not gothy at all, either. It is honestly baffling that nobody has preyed on her yet. The girl in the orange shirt leans in next to him and says, "H-heyyyy, I haven't seen you in a LONG TIME." Riku has never met this girl in his life.
Archer EMIYA	A society of vampires? Even though they're apparently splintered off into several groups, the fact that a species most known for paranoia, scheming, and wanton murder managed to form functioning cliques is rather impressive. And annoying, Archer hates Vampires. Deciding to carry his weight and help Riku for a change, the Heroic Spirit decides to join the teenager in his brooding endeavors at the bar. He probably could have gotten away with just wearing his red mystic code and blended in fairly well, but for this occasion he decided to dig out his leather attire. Dressed in a red leather jacket and probably a slightly too tight pair of leather pants, Archer hits the club, deciding to lean against the same pillar as Riku, arms tightly folded against his chest. "Didn't quite take you for a lady killer, Master. So how many maiden hearts have you broken that you care to tell me about?" He smirks, his attention now on the strange girl. He doesn't say anything though, leaving that to Riku since he's the one being talked to. Also, and more truthfully, he just wants to see how the kid reacts.
Raziel	Raziel is addressed cordially, so he returns the favor with a nod. "Yes, actually, I am looking for someone in particular. Perhaps you can aid me in this?" he asks, calmly, and with that tone that screams that he's not a modern person at all. "I am seeking to grant an audience with Mr. Alexander Thompson. I am Raziel, of the Concord seeking this audience, of course. It is about a...situation happening in this city." Raziel does not say much more, not openly. That would be foolish, especially as he does not know who exactly is on who's side, nor the identity of the man who took the corpsvires.
Riku	The fact that Archer is here is both good and bad. Archer is actually disturbingly like him in a lot of ways. The fact that they're both literally brooding at the same pillar (albeit on opposite sides, crowding is a thing) makes for a potentially hilarious sight to some people. Riku, however, isn't laughing. As Archer asks about how many hearts he's broken, there is a little wince as emotion passes over his face, and then her shakes his head before replying shortly, "Just one." The tone likely indicates that this was not a normal 'breakup' situation. The girl that approaches her isn't what he was expecting at all. Despite her naturally pinging Riku's attention in all the right (or wrong, depending how you look at it) places, the fact that no one's preyed on her means something pretty simple, really. She's a predator, and probably not nearly as drunk as she appears. Riku tries to keep this conclusion in mind as she effectively social ambushes on him. There is a moment's tightness in his jawline, but it smooths out quickly enough as he replies in a deadpan, "Yeah, literally forever." He says in response. "So what are you up to tonight? Anything interesting happening lately?" May as well see where this is going to go, put out a line and see what kind of potentially hilariously dangerous thing has bitten. Alternatively, someone who might be exactly what they appear to be, which would be even more surprising. But he can't tell what's what yet.
Ash Williams	"Listen," says Ash to Penelope, turning his back on the unfortunate woman he was trying to sell his bullshit story to. His tone is the tone of someone who's clearly explained this several times. "I'm calling bullshit on my alleged daughter, first of all because I was using my lucky--" He stops mid sentence, and it's clear to Penelope that now he actually sees her as opposed to just looking at her. "Oh," he says, halting also the condescending gesturing with his wooden hand. "Got it," he says with a knowing nod. This subject is one he's actually knowledgeable on, because in most cases (as she saw with him trying out that pathetic orphan story on anyone who'd listen) /he's/ the schmuck. He points out the PARTY GRRL shirt if, and only if, it's suitably black. The daisy dukes are a no-go, as they don't match the vibe of the place. He goes with /all/ of the necklaces. That's his advice for Penelope: match the vibe, but otherwise be as trashy as possible. "And go for pigtails, if you can," hge says. He then speaks up, keeping up the act. "Great seeing you again!" Ash wheels back around slowly and smoothly. "To be honest," he says to Semni, "I've thought about it. But I've kinda gotten used to doing things this way, y'know?" He leans in conspiratorially, a 'sly' (read: sleazy) grin on his face. "I can do things with one hand most guys couldn't do with both... if you catch my drift." He taps his wooden hand on the counter. "'nother shot of tequila, and give the lady whatever she wants."
Roxas	"Pssssht. He's not a killer!" The drunken camper waves a dismissive hand at Archer. She squints at him for a moment, seems to realize she's looking at the wrong person, and then looks at Riku again. After studying him as well, she remarks, "Wowwww, you did your hair differently. I dunno if I like it better or not..." The demon bouncer nods at Raziel and steps away for a moment, talking into what is probably an earpiece. She steps back in short order and gestures towards the lift, "Mr. Thompson is just upstairs. Please remember that this is accorded neutral ground, and enjoy your stay." That was surprisingly painless. The ride upstairs is short, and the VIP area is a more intimate reflection of the second floor loft. There are booths with sliding walls that provide privacy, nicer furniture, televisions, and drinks that can probably exclusively be bought in favors. Two more bouncers are standing next to the elevator up top. They glance at Raziel, and then return to simply observing the surroundings. Alexander Thompson is a 20-something man of average height, dressed in a pinstripe grey suit. He looks more like a doctor on his way to a presentation, or perhaps a lawyer, than anything else. Dark-haired, grey-eyed. He waits on a couch across the room from the elevator, waving the wraith over as he disembarks the lift. "A little bird told me that the fellows who took care of a problem we were having is nosing around for answers." Thompson says, his voice middle-of-the-road and bereft of an accent, "I assume that would be you, or someone associated with you. So I think it's only fair to offer a little... recompense, shall we say. We're not mindless butchers, you know." Oddly, Alexander Thompson doesn't really match the 'feel' of any of the described courts. He's obviously a living man, with a pulse and normal breathing patterns and everything. But he doesn't feel like a man, exactly, and it's hard to put one's finger on where the presence behind him is centered. "You don't even wanna know the kinda... the kinda..." The drunken camper hiccups, "... I've been up to. I mean, it's just... it's just too much." "Can I have that?" She asides to a passing person with a fruity-looking cocktail. Bizarrely they comply immediately with her, and she starts sipping on it as she talks. Unfortunately she also gesticulates with the drink, which sends little flecks of it all over the place at irregular intervals, "Olympus is-- losin' their minds, and they sent us out in threes to go find out... find out, you know, a needle in a divine haystack..." The camper girl downs the rest of her drink, and pushes the glass off on somebody else going by, "Fuck. I don't know. Bad shit's happening." The barkeep delivers Ash another tequila, pauses to consider Semni, and seems to decide she's already got what she's want. Semni pauses the rocking of her empty shot glass, "Oh, I know all about getting rid of something old and replacing it with something new. I thought you did, too. It doesn't have to be a human replacement, you know. I do all sorts." "I don't suppose you have anything for sale." She adds, resuming her glass fidgeting.
Penelope Vasquez	Shirt: Black. Daisy Dukes: a no-go, but she didn't actually bring any spare pants. She re-zips her trenchcoat halfway up to cover the unfashionable bottoms. Jewelry: stacked upon stacked, until she looks like a plastic-jewelry gypsy. Makeup: applied, poorly, intentionally. Hair: Itty bitty black pigtails. Penelope looks kinda like a college girl who tried for an anime cosplay but got distracted by something shiny halfway through dressing and just threw on a shirt. She is ready to be predated upon. Truly, when you need an expert on looking like a trashy schmuck, Ash is your man. She gives him an appreciative nod- and when his back turns towards the much prettier woman at hand, she makes several unflattering hand gestures behind his head in her direction, before giving her a glassy-eyed, muffled-giggle grin and stepping out into the main thoroughfairs of the club. From there: she parties. Strategically. She acts drunker than she is, though she does snag a few unattended drinks. She flirts with people longer than is wise, refusing to take a hint. She dances, poorly. She is, ultimately, the loud-yet-irritating member of a party that must be acknowledged, if only to process your distaste for her presence. And she waits, like a worm on a hook, for the bite of a bigger fish. Either she's confident, or she hasn't thought through what happens when the big fish bites.
Raziel	Raziel nods to the woman, "I am aware," He says, calmly, "While I might look it, I am not a ruffian. Though I suppose you get your fair share of them." He says, not unsympathetic. Raziel follows the given instructions, walking towards the lift, and takes it up, not mining the bouncers as he is waved in essentially. In the upper levels, his eyes look around, taking in the place, just in case things go sour. 'Modern opulence at it's finest is what greeted me. I can not say I was surprised. Though what I met in front of me is anything but what I expected. The man was obviously mortal, but commanding enough power to keep an entire clan in check. More to the point, something was off. However, it was not my problem to figure this out, but to get answers.' "I see, so the person that took the strange fledglings was associated with you then?" Raziel assumed as much but is essentially confirming it. "And yes, that would be me," Raziel says, confirming his identity. He makes a small bow, "I am Raziel of the Concord. I come seeking answers because of the deception, but mostly because of the situation is concerning in and of itself." "Fledglings in my world do not end up like that, and I am told they should not be like that here either. While I am no longer a vampire, that much I know is true. So what beasts were these born of, and of course, the source of them is now of great interest of myself. Especially if this was to escape this world, and get into others."
Archer EMIYA	"Ah. Well, worse case scenario, you'll grow numb to it after the third or so, though given you're still young, you've still got plenty of times patch things up. I'd rather avoid another jaded white haired anti-hero if I can help it though, I'm started to feel depreciated." There's some actual advice sprinkled in with his usual humor, though his voice sounds a bit softer than normal as he says it. "Aha, of course he isn't. It was merely a jest. Anyway, my Master here has told me all about you, so why not tell me about yourself? Hmm?" Archer attempts to lie, not knowing that Riku doesn't actually doesn't know this woman. Though even if he did, it wouldn't change anything. They're out here to dig up info, after all, and the best way to do that is start small and work your way up from there.
Ash Williams	Ash blinks, surprised that someone has A) seen past his bullshit, and B) still wants to talk to him afterwards. He seems for a moment like he isn't sure what to do. Naturally, he decides to drink that uncertainty away, downing his second shot. He looks then at his wooden hand. He's completely oblivious, both to Penelope's crude hand gestures, and to whatever reaction Semri might have. It therefore makes his next remark all the more tactless. "You figured right, baby," says the girdle-wearing monster hunter. He holds up the prosthesis. It's clearly one that he found in a Goodwill or something, becuase it doesn't even come close to matching his skin tone. "This one's just the dress model. I got one in my car for work--fully articulated." He waggles his brow at that line like he's some kind of gas station Casanova. "Can't really say I have much for sale. My business is the monster-killing business," he says a little too loudly in a nightclub full of beings likely with augmented or enhanced hearing. "That," he says proudly, "And consumer electronics. You play your cards right, maybe you'll leave here with a certain senior S-Mart sales rep's discount code." He gestures towards her with his wooden hand, frowning archly like he's just offered plane tickets to Fiji. "Not really in the market for a new hand, either--why buy what you can make yourself, y'know?" He gives her an apologetic nod, then tries to subtly put his hand closer to hers. His cold, wooden hand. "But... maybe you can still help me." He has a brief moment of clarity, remembering why he's actually here. It's not to hit on women it's... is it to get smashed? No... find a new 'cid connect? No, that's not it... something about... Vampires, that's it. "I'm wondering if you've noticed how, recently, the lawyers aren't the only bloodsuckers in town anymore."
Riku	"There won't be a third time." Riku says in response, which could be taken any number of ways. "I've been working on fixing things up for months. We'll see how much longer it takes. It'll happen. Eventually." He doesn't interrupt Archer's bluff, because frankly, he's realized something important. Riku has something of a problem in that he knows enough of the situation in the UG and the various realms to generally have an idea of what he's dealing with. Enough to comfortably identify threats most of the time and figure out how to efficiently deal with them. But not enough to understand all the natural curveballs that can be thrown at him. In other words, he knows enough to get into trouble. It takes people lifetimes to get a solid idea about everything going on. This becomes rapidly apparent as the girl continues to talk. His poker face isn't as solid as Archer's. Much the opposite, really, as he shakes his head at the assertion that he isn't a killer, but he doesn't elaborate. He shrugs his shoulders at the mention of his hair being different. "Styles change. Maybe I'll do it different sometime in the future." He seems a little confused at the moment, his attempt to keep control of things rapidly disintegrating as this girl just steamrolls the conversation. It's when she brings up Olympus that things go sideways. "Olympus? What the... What are you supposed to be finding?" But then, he nods to her in agreement, taking this opportunity to try to get a word in edgewise. "Things are pretty bad, especially around here. Seen what's been going on out on the streets lately?" He asks.
Roxas	Penelope Vasquez can feel many eyes on her as she meanders around, simultaneously making a nuisance of herself while painting a target on her back. By the time a pale-looking 'young man' starts towards her however, somebody else steps in. A tall tan-skinned teenager with dirty blonde hair wearing an orange CAMP HALF-BLOOD t-shirt makes his way through the club towards her, and his presence seems to act like a deterrent. In comparison to the drunken camper Riku is talking to, the male camper is a little more... earthly. He has a sort of handsomeness to him, but it's a far cry from perfection. It's more like the earned ruggedness of a courier who does all of his work on foot, and has for a very long time. The male camper stops by Penelope and says, "This isn't the right place for that. I mean, it is, but..." "There are better fishing holes." He casts a concerned glance towards the drunken camper, then continues, "You looking for somebody?" Semni seems to lose a little interest when no exchange of limbs is on the table. She continues their conversation in a dull, distant tone for a little while, "There's something to be said for your own work, it's true. But everybody needs to source their parts from somewhere, and not every sort of part can be hand-made." "Depending on your faith, I suppose." "For instance... I could pay you a pretty penny to swap your eyes for brown ones. People will pay more for blue than for brown. You get a new set of eyes, change up your appearance, and somebody else down the road gets the baby blues they're looking for." She smirks, flicking her shot glass. The matter of the local 'problems' wipes the smirk off of her face. Semni issues a frustrated sigh, shuffling her shot glass forward for refilling for the first time since they started talking. She says, "I am... aware of the 'problem', yes. It's causing me a teensy weensy little shortage, since nobody wants diseased parts." "Those poor things could hardly be more diseased if they tried. Skal are about as low as it gets in our... community. Somebody's been weaponizing them on purpose and they've all come out of it sick. We've been wondering whether or not somebody got into a lab somewhere and infected them with engineered diseases, but nobody's heard of anything like that happening." "I could learn more if I had some specimens," she continues, "my name is Semni Vaccaro, and I'm a spiritual surgeon." Alexander Thompson sighs, and nods. He plucks a glass from the back of the sofa, taking a sip of an amber liquid within and replying, "After a fashion. I haven't been in contact with her for months, is the thing. When I took control of this town's underworld... or at least, my little corner of it... she agreed to be my right hand. She had the strength, the confidence, to do the job. But one day she came back to the club missing an arm, and all I've heard of her since is..." He makes a face, "About all of these /Skal/. I'd like to correct something for you, though. Skal are the... ah, creations of poorly-bred vampires. They're what happens when a vampire isn't /actually/ strong enough to make more fully-fledged vampires. The result comes out very... twisted, and ugly. They're the lowest rung of vampiric society, and typically the first ones to go if they get uppity. Sometimes they're out of their mind, and sometimes they're not. These... /plague Skal/, though..." "That's not natural. Not natural at all." Meanwhile, Archer ASKS A QUESTION. The drunken camper wheels around to look him up and down, grinning like a devil. She replies, "I'm Leila, Daughter of Aphrodite. And I'm on a /quest/!" She sways on the spot, one arm punched into the air with comical enthusiasm. "A quest to..." Leila lowers her voice dramatically, leaning /uncomfortably/ close towards Riku to speak directly into his ear. She reeks of alcohol. She draws back afterwards, grinning stupidly. "Betcha didn't expect /that/."
Raziel	As Alexander explains about the Skal, Raziel places a clawed hand to his chin, mimicking a thinking expression, though it's nearly impossible to tell what he's thinking or anything between his face being covered, and his eyes being just orbs of light. He seems to consider this new information... 'These Skal sound like my brother Melchiah and his progeny, their body too weak to properly hold vampiric unlife, they became deformed and eventually ghoulish. They were the most pathetic of the clans that I had the unpleasure of destroying..' "I am familiar with a similar concept from my world. In fact, it was my brother Melchiah and his children who would be similar to your Skal. Though most vampires in my world, in the time that I belong in...well...are not too far removed from these in their own little ways." "However, you think this woman is the source of them? This is odd because the person who hired us to capture them was a man..." He goes on to describe him, in as much detail as he can remember. "He also had the services of a Reaper."
Penelope Vasquez	Penelope, honestly, has a pretty good time. There are definitely worse assignments to be on. Decent music, attractive people, an easy post. She boogies. She flirts. It's a natural state of being for the woman. And all the while, her eyes are sharp. Precise. Flicking away from individual to individual, assessing, targeting, peeling apart in the event that /they/ are the one to step out of line and try something, so she can better know how to respond. The pale man is clocked a mile away, and she's readying herself for a spot of tussle as he approaches- until she's vamp-blocked by the handsome camper. Which gives her pause. She's seen that garish orange shirt somewhere else in here, while she's been spying around. Specifically on the girl macking on Riku. Neither of them are projecting The Vibe of the club; predatory, too-pretty, icy. Penelope adjust herself, straightening out her coat as she looks the man over, eye to eye, before simply clicking her tongue. Her tones are disctintly Not Intoxicated. Clinical, almost. "It's the right place for me. And you too, assume. You here on business." A little twitch of her fingers, gesturing the man closer. "I'm on business too. From outta town. Spill."
Ash Williams	Ash reacts to Semni's offer of switching body parts out with more calm than the average person. To say nothing of his experiences and contacts before the Watch, Ash hears that kind of talk often from one Maricel Thorne. "You're not the first person to make that offer," he says, thinking on a history of back-alley sawbones with dubious medical credentials. "Ash Williams, Senior S-Mart Sales Associate." He extends his wooden hand to shake with utmost confidence--it's kind of sad, really, a man his age with a job like that. It probably helps complete the picture his bumbling advances began to paint. "Tell you what, honey," he says with an embarrassing lack of irony. To put it lightly, Semni isn't in his league. To put it factually, she's not even on the same planet. "Me and my friends here want these suckers gone just as much as you. Streets are lousy with 'em. Whaddaya say I bring you a specimen, you tell us what you find out... and maybe--" Wait. Something clicks, in his mind. Semni can see gears turning in his blue eyes. She said 'we.' That means she's a vampire. Ash's interest evaporates pathetically, like air rushing from a balloon. He leans back and clears his throat. He's suddenly very businesslike. "How's that sound?"
Archer EMIYA	Archer laughs. It's not a nice laugh, but it's not a rude laugh either. It's more the kind of laugh one makes at their own misfortune. Daughter of Aphrodite? The Son of Zeus and King of Uruk was all the interaction with demigods he needed for one life time. But perhaps this one is different. At least, he hopes they're different. "Can' say I did, I was expecting vampires and ghouls, not a bastard child of the Greek Pantheon." Archer removes his back from the pillar at this point, deciding to engage Leila like a respectable human being and not like some dark and brooding teenager. "Anyway, assuming my Master here is willing, I /suppose/ I can offer my assistance. I've got a knack for solving problems after all, especially ones that are due to incompetence."
Riku	Daughter of Aphrodite. Well, that explains the Camp Half-blood shirt, and things immediately click into place on her easy way with people and ability to seemingly just socially buffalo things. Also, why she's unreasonably pretty. He wasn't wrong, perhaps. She could absolutely be a predator. She just hasn't hardened into weaponizing her charm at the actual expense of others. Yet. But this isn't the time for such thoughts. Right now, there's only the present, the enthusiastic armpumping suddenly causing Riku to grimace as it brings up memories of another unreasonably cheerful quest-oriented... associate. She whispers into his ear, and his eyes widen as she informs him of What's Up. "Seriously? How did that even get /lost/?" The Heartbrand's face splits into another grimace, obviously thinking about the things someone could get up to if the Wrong Hands got their hands on it. He makes a longsuffering sigh. He doesn't disagree with Archer as the Servant moves off the pillar, and so too Riku straightens up and stops playing vampire magnet for the moment. "Tell you what. We'll help you out with your quest if you and your quest group-" He can't think of a better term for a triad of half-blooded scions. "... help us out with ours." He leans in and quickly whispers what he and Archer are trying to do: Find out what's going on with the plague skal and stop them at the source. He pulls back and gestures. "Sound fair?"
Roxas	"I... think so." Alexander confirms, "We do not usually make progeny, particularly if we know that they will be Skal. It's a shameful thing to most of us. But she's... the sort to do as she pleases, even as our kind go." He frowns at the description of the other man, leaning back a little and looking into his drink. After a long silence, he says, "I know everyone who passes through these streets, but I do not know that person. It sounds as if larger forces are at work here... so I think I'm going to be keeping my head down for a little while. This city attracts horrors at the best of times. But I'll see if any of my contacts know anything about this individual and get back to you." The male camper lifts his eyebrows in answer to Penelope's initial once-over, but doesn't seem offended. On the contrary, he seems amused. He jerks his head towards Leila, "My partners and I are out on a quest, but we got tied up with a trio of trolls not too far back and decided that we'd be best off waiting someplace safe-approximate until morning. As soon as it's sun-up, we're out of town. If you know and are a part of the rules, this place isn't /too/ bad. As long as you're not getting drunk and hurling yourself at all the pretty faces." "But it seems to me like you're the opposite end of that power paradigm." "Juste, Son of Hermes." He adds, with a hint of bitterness. Semni looks surprised that she's not the first person to make that offer to Ash. She shakes his hand, and even through insensate wood it's clear that-- she has a perfectly normal grip for somebody of her size and build, "I'm not used to being docked points for originality, Mr. Williams. But I think I'm amenable to the deal you're proposing." She smiles at Ash's realization, picking up on it immediately. "I'm not a hemophage, Mr. Williams. No 'we' in this city likes hungering hordes of Skals." "But," she crosses her legs and faces the bar, "if you're dreadfully curious, I'll tell you what I am when you bring me a Skal." Meanwhile, Leila... receives Archer's comments /very badly/. The instant the words 'bastard child of the Greek Pantheon' leave his lips, she looks at him like he struck her across the face. She staggers backwards, not because she's /reacting/ to a metaphorical faceslap physically, but because she's intent on leaving and just doing it poorly. She nearly trips into one of the nearby recessed booths, managing to catch herself on the side and roll over onto the floor before actually tipping into the people within. She replies to Archer, "Yoooou... can fuck right off!" But she doesn't seem to have held it against Riku. Even as she scrabbles to her feet and tries to go, she pauses to answer his question, "Whooooo knows? Maybe he sticks it everywhere like he sticks something else. She seems to seriously consider Riku's offer. After a moment, she says, "H'okay. But... but we gotta talk to Juste and... and..." "You gotta have three. Or six. Not one or two or four. Gotta be in threes. Y'wanna know what happens to the not-three?" Leila draws a finger across her throat in what would be a comical gesture if she didn't seem so dead fucking serious about it.
Raziel	'I was not so blind as to take everything his man says at face value, but the fact that he does not know the other man, or claims not to, is telling. More so, that he was going to start hiding. Something big was going on here, and it appears that we had barely scratched the surface of it. As for this other woman...who could tell? Perhaps he was using me to get rid of someone he considers a danger to his power base, or perhaps she really is the source of these diseased Skal.' "That is fine, my associates and I are going to be searching for the cause of these Skal, so that this particular mess can stay clean. I will also be contacting some of my contacts in this world to see if we can find more out. While this would normally be considered a local problem...I do not take kindly to being manipulated." "Nor do I take kindly to being betrayed," he says, with a stare across the table. He does not accuse but rather states a fact. "Shall I give you information so that you can contact me should you find anything?"
Penelope Vasquez	Penelope relaxes a tad as Juste speaks plainly; evidently, her clinical bristling was designed to shrug things off if he turned out to be, y'know. Not aware of the supernatural hootenany that the city of Detroit is. She extends her hand for a casually arm-pumping shake. "Penny, daughter of Boston." Said with a straight face. "And- well, I'm trying to draw flies with honey over here. Or, well mosquitos, I guess. If you're just breezing through town, prolly dunno about it, but /someone/ in this crowd?" She hooks her hands and clacks her teeth. "Zey vaaant tu saaack my blahd. Been causing trouble. There's a handful of us in here scouting to figure out who and sock 'em in the jaw. Or- something like that. I'm not clear on the details." Her eyes sliiide off of Juste as Leila stumbles through the crowds and into a booth. A soft wince, before her attention redirects back to him. "Either way- advice appreciated, bodyguarded unneeded. I don't suppose part of the standard Questing Package around here comes with a handy dandy bloodsucker detector I can borrow? Or, y'know. Advice along those general lines?"
Riku	Looks like Archer is a real lady killer. Riku scowls at him lightly as he manages to piss off the girl he's trying to recruit, but it works out. Looks like she keeps things compartmentalized, which works in his favor. It's now Archer's problem to deal with the wrath of a half-blooded love goddess. He's pretty sure that's going to be more trouble than one thinks. He does at least hold out a hand to help Lelia get straightened back up and not crowding the booth. "Juste, huh. And who's the third member of your group?" He gestures. "We have some others working on it. We'll pick a third. Or maybe another four. If three is good, three threes should be better, right?" May we well pile on the Numerology 101 while we're Rule of Threeing it up.
Archer EMIYA	"A bit melodramatic, don't you think? Though I suppose most girls your age are. Apologies. Still, I guess you're less Heracles in disposition and more Helen. I'll keep that in mind for next time and leave Master to do the talking." Archer is completely unphased by Lelia's reaction. Probably because this is how girls react to him daily. Or possibly because the over the top reaction reminds him of someone. Maybe both. Whatever it may be, he goes back to leaning against the pillar with a bored look on his face.
Ash Williams	On the matter of Semni's originality, Ash shrugs. "What can I say? I keep interesting company." She then says that might tell him what she really is, once they bring her a Skal. "Sounds good to me," says Ash with an air of confidence. That's all it is, really--an air. He's too unsure of where he stands with Semni to have his uaual, more convincing fake confidence. "I'm gonna assume you come here often," he says. Unusually for Ash, he says something that isn't a pick up line, but sounds like one, instead of the other way around. "When my pals and I find another Skal--and that shouldn't be tough--I'll make sure we bag it, and swing back here. Might wanna grab something that can hold one of those suckers. Just between you and me, the ol' trashcan and chainsaw combo barely cut the mustard." After that grisly remark uttered in the most casual, businesslike way, Ash makes an amiable finger-gun at Semni, then stands up and takes a look around for the others. He decides on a whim to go and see what Riku, Archer and Archer are up to--and grabs a third shot of tequila on his way over. "Hey gang," says the guy dressed like someone's dad, definitely not a fit for this kind of scene. He downs his third shot of tequila. "Who's ridin' back to the warpgate with me?" He takes his keys and jingles them, setting the empty shot glass on a counter. It's probably not a good idea to ride with him. "We good to blow this joint or what? We hurry, I can get a keg, squeeze it into the trailer, and then we can /really/ party."
Roxas	Alexander reaches into his coat pocket, withdraws a business card, and flicks it towards Raziel. He says, "I've got too much to look forward to to make enemies right now. And when I say, 'keep my head down', I mean supernaturally. I do have a life outside of the UG, you know. But yes, a way to contact you would be appreciated. Do you take iris messages?" He pauses. "I don't know who this other fellow was, but if he passed into this domain unnoticed he's no one to be trifled with. I'm not going to pretend to be the most powerful Baron of a city in this country, but I'm nothing to laugh at, either. It makes me wonder who else has turned up without my knowing it." Juste smoothly meets Penelope's hand, apparently used to that sort of greeting. "Yeah. There's a few scoping you out. The ones you gotta look out for are the ones that don't go for blaaaaahd. I can't tell you how to pick them out individually but if you want a guide-to-finding-vampire troublemakers..." "Break into hospitals, track down every case of porphyria in the city you're in. Cross-reference what you find with who's richer than Hades, and one of them is probably who you're looking for." "They won't actually be richer than Hades." He adds, off-handedly. Leila accepts Riku's hand-up. She is a /lot/ stronger than she looks just based on that brief exchange, and she straightens up unsteadily. "Her name's Cosette. And three threes is fine. It's just... it's gotta be threes, or bad things happen, y'know? The extras start dying. And you never know who the extras really are, 'til they're..." Leila shrugs. She glares at Archer. "You," she spits, "are a bigger dick than Zeus during a dry spell and Poseidon at the end of one." "We all come here often. The U.G. of Detroit. Even the ones who really..." Semni looks towards the orange-shirted teenagers, "... don't belong." She smiles pleasantly, "I'll be sure to bring my gurney. I think you'll find it's quite up to the task."