"You're late."
The words cut through her day dreams, the errant thoughts and worries she routinely squashed down when dealing with kindred. A dim light overhung a damp old room - swinging over a collapsible table, lined with three other packages.
"My apologies, I was beset by a-"
"-No pay."
Annabelle couldn't help but stare daggers at the lazy-eyed Malkavian who was looking after her drop. She took moments to calm herself, calming the blood inside, and levelled with the mind-broken madman. She laughed at the nickname he was given, "Verbose Motherfucker."
"The blood is unspoiled, still within safe limits of consumption, and your pickup wasn't very helpful. All I need is $100, and I can get out of your hair," she assured the oddly-dressed fellow, who sent a worried look around the room they were in, before fixating on her again.
"Bad job."
Annabelle snickered, pinching the bridge of her nose. 10 years of unlife for this?
"And can you explain to your employer when this blood is stolen, and you're the only one left behind? Or can I grab a measly hundo and get out of this dump?"
The mad fellow grumbled, staring around again, before sliding a note to the redhead.
"Leave now."
"With pleasure," Annabelle groaned, mentally noting to never take another job from an Autarkis, lest her time be wasted again. She gave one look back to the collapsed tunnel's entry before flaring her blood and bolting off. Amidst that dim night, she was a blur, unseen to the naked eye, but hotly aware of any and all kine sight.
While she ran, she remarked on the coastline of Santa Monica, the beauty of it's pier's lights and sights, and the errant energy of life that crossed it, even in the dead of night. She cared little for the rabble, but knew to keep her beast in check - lest she fall further into undead disgrace.
What she did care about was music. The cheap, compressed carnival tunes spewing forth from the merry-go-rounds and ferris wheels - the buskers, playing their hearts out to a crowd that cared little for them, and even the whistling winds of the sea-breeze, whipping sand in the night. It was a night spent under the pier, as usual, where she had heard a most delectable tune, spewing forth from a guitar.
Of course, it was coming from him. Casey, the one Gwen had marked, the one they'd leapt on. He was unassuming to the average eye, but held about him something secret, an introspective soul and a cute little wit that endeared him deeply to Gwen. For Beth, it was the animal-powered gaze he held, and Cass, his drive. For Anna though, she particularly loved his music.
He didn't play it to a crowd, hadn't rehearsed it, and would likely never come to the same combination of notes, grooves, and timbres again, but Anna would remember. It was almost as if he was playing it for her - though she knew Casey was a bit of a perfectionist. Jumping out from under the dock, she held back a laugh as the kine leapt, yelping in fear.
"Jesus, fuck!" He scampered back, clutching his heart, calming as he recognised her face. "O-oh, it's you again."
"Jesus Fuck, in the flesh, at your service," she bowed, giggling at him. "What are you playing?"
"Ah," he answered, flicking his hair out of his face, "I'm just dicking around with some chords at the moment… I was playing Wonderwall earlier, but, people started throwing rocks, and, well, you know-"
"-Wonderwall inspires the worst in people, I agree," Anna giggled. "Although, if you've played any gig, you should've known better, Case."
"Which is weird," he chuckled, "bars love that stuff. All the hot moms and ugly dads just wanna hear a tune that goes-"
He played a diddy for her. Four chords, on loop, with on-the-spot lyrics. He sung gibberish about young love that was lost and found, and finally country boys and city girls; mixing syllables until he managed to find "cunt-boys tree, tee-girls sit."
That made Anna snort. "You think you're funny."
"A-And you think you're gorgeous," he bit back, beaming at her, catching his breath. "As well you should."
She giggled again, blushing, and Anna suddenly found she couldn't say a word. She lingered on the feeling that only Casey had managed to stir within her. It was a wonderful, unexpected thing when she first discovered it, and until that point she had brushed him off as some indie poseur douche. But no, here he was, some kine, making her feel alive.
She found herself thirsting, Anna did. As her heart pumped with bag-blood and reminded her of the hole left by her abilities' use, her face fell, and she could sense within him a doubt.
"Believe it or not, I don't feel like that all too often," she smiled, sadly. "But thanks, I love having my ego inflated."
He nodded, and continued strumming, shrinking a little under the vampire's unblinking gaze. Anna tried to force herself to let up the stare, but couldn't, yearning for just a taste in him. But, that would be breaking one of the Four of Nine's rules for their chosen sire; no draining. So, she found a calm within the music instead.
Guilt dared to gnarl within her, despite the discussions they'd had as a coterie. Cass, bringing back a nun-tone she nearly never used, asked "should we do this to such an innocent soul?" Yes, they thought. Trouble, both natural and preternatural, seemed to gravitate towards the poor bastard, so the least they could do was give him a fighting chance.
Anna relied on that summit they reached, to even continue speaking to the man. She enjoyed it too much to let it slip from her fingers, and though his life would end and that all-too-human spark of his would die, she let herself indulge in that selfishness of it. They chose him, so they would take his life into their hands.
"I uh," he cleared his throat, strumming as gently as he could, "thanks for dropping by, Anna. I enjoy these little chats we have… I don't suppose you'd be down for a cup of coffee some time?"
That smile of hers fell. Another rule they had; no intimate engagement until convergence. Beth thought of that one, surprising them, and it served them well in keeping the Camarilla off their back. After all, he was just a favoured blood doll to the Four of Nine, to any cape eyes that looked upon them.
They could protect him, like that, within reason.
"I'm sorry, songbird," she trilled. "All the tunes in your heart and all the strings on that board wouldn't be able to sway me. At least, not now… I got three gals back at home, you know how it is."
He nodded, paused, then laughed. "Not really, but, I understand. It's… Kinda hard for me to say, but… You really do make me feel safer, you know?"
"Funny, I've got the opposite effect on a lot of people," she giggled again. She brushed her blonde locks out of her face, and sniffed, for the show of it. "How do you mean - you got a lot to be afraid of?"
He stopped his fingers, playing with a pick in one hand and clenching his knuckles oh so tight in the other. Anna's eyes narrowed as she noted the change in body language, as all relaxation left the man's body.
"Bills?" She asked. "Druggies, thuggies, beatniks… Beasts?"
Casey's eyes snapped wide open at the last word. "N-No, nothing tangible, I'm afraid. I-I mean, I'm always low on money, but, that's music. Maybe it's just that I'm paranoid and my head wants to pull a fast one on me, but… I get the feeling I'm under some threat, even at home, even when I'm asleep, and…"
"...All the safe places," Anna finished for him. "I get that… I really do. Sorry that you feel that way, but, well, I'm glad I can help. Even for a little while..."
A faint buzz resounded from her pants pocket, and Anna snapped her eyes to her phone, sighing as she read the message.
"Shit. Awful timing, I know, but, I gotta head out, Case…"
He smiled. Too quickly and too perfect, like he'd practiced it before. "Not a worry, you travel safe, Anna."
She rose from the sand, brushed herself off, and turned heel. Before she ran from the beach, her dead heart beat again. As if to play her off from the little stage he'd created for her, there went his music, his guitar. Playing a little harder, more jagged, as if the adrenaline had poured through his veins and sent him to shivers.
Anna turned herself again, crouched next to the kine, and took his lips in a kiss. He froze, eyes snapping open as Anna nibbled at him, and she giggled into their embrace, recording in her head every reaction he made. The goosebumps, the quickening of his heartbeat, the hackles raising on the back of his neck, and, despite him trying to hide it; an erection.
She broke from him, laying a hand upon his head, leaving him stunned.
"My gals and I are looking out for you, Case… Now, play me out."
Obeying that command, he plucked four notes and let them resound. Some minor ninth, jazzy and sweet, sung against the gentle rush of the waves behind them, and Casey couldn't help but gawk at Anna after that. And at the $50 she slipped into his jacket pocket.
She fled, faster than he could imagine, having stolen his breath. Anna joked to herself that they'd soon steal a lot more than that, but sped away, whipping out her phone. Dialing Elizabeth, she found herself en route to a hideout nearby, where she could grab a bike towards Venture Tower. It hurt her to part with Casey; to speak so freely and openly, without want or care for the information a conversation could produce, but Camarilla eyes were still upon them.
"Sup, bitch," Beth answered.
Anna smiled. "Just had a chat with pubic enemy number one. Yourself?"
"Hah, you mean pubic-aw, god damn it Anna! Quit stealing my lines! Don't tell me he was still moseying out at the beach doing fuck all again."
"What else is there to do in Santa Monica? Besides op-"
"Opioids-god, fucking damn it. Fuck off. What do you need?"
Anna darted her head back to the swiftly disappearing stretch of the beach Casey was on, and to a ratty, disused pier nearby. "I'm willing to bet money that Case is gonna wander somewhere he shouldn't, so… Can I ask you to keep an eye on him?"
"'Ole Rat Pier?"
"That's the one."
"Of course… You're joining Gwen with the capes, right? I mean, fair. I've got a whole bunch of hot girl shit to do, so, you two uggos have fun. And don't forget to share the details on the Prince."
She couldn't help but laugh again. In that laugh she imagined herself in a contest of kiss-ass, with Casey uplifting her, and Beth doing her best to faux-tear her confidence down. In bed, of course. To any outsider the conversation would be odd, but, they'd known each other for years. They weren't a coterie for nothing. And then, as if to break her from a delectable fantasy, she saw a flash of light capture her form, for a split second.
"Will do. And good luck with that hot girl shit, you'll need it, Beth-"
"-Fuck you-"
"-And some dick just snapped a pic of me."
She heard a dark laugh erupt from the phone's end. "Give 'em hell."