"What's up, butterballs?"
Casey at least had the decency to blush at such a nickname. He'd wandered down from the beach towards another pier; finding it lonesome, drearily lit, and abandoned. Elizabeth had ensured as such, anyways - having wiped out the bloodthirsty dregs that had found their way under the pier's creaking boards. She found no joy in the act, but when done as a chore, to keep up appearances, she did it well.
She'd done it less and less as the Camarilla ummed and erred about their new appointment for Prince, however.
Casey giggled. "Oh, o-oh, haha, uh… I-I was gonna hang out at the end of the pier here and just jam out, but-"
"-Jam out?" Liza asked, scrunching her nose. "You do know this pier's like, thug'n'mug central, right? A soft little boy like you'd have a better time at one of the arcades."
The kindred saw him fight some god-awful erection in his pants, and that made her smile. She felt her harsh, husky voice paired well with her wild look; short-cut brown hair, a leather jacket, and a t-shirt that said "BITCH". She felt taller than him, but it was hard to tell fully under that moon's light. Liza hadn't even seen up this close before!
It was all too late in conversation that he realised he'd forgotten what she said.
"What?"
"Fuck it, just follow me. And watch the blood, some goof tripped and fell on his own switchblade," she ordered him, getting a kick out of doing so.
Liza noted the brief moment of doubt in his eyes that was quickly belted down by a streak of impulse.
"Fuck it," he echoed.
As they walked, talked, and stalked their way from the pier to the shops, Liza had felt doubt ebbing away from her. She'd felt it upon Gwen's mark, but trusted in the woman's judgement, letting the coterie pursue him as their joined siring project. After all, four heads were better than one, and, in Cass's suggestion, the comingling of four bloods was better than one.
It was a crapshoot and they knew it; but the idea of raising a childe together felt better than one of them bringing in four - no matter who's blood would take hold of him. Ever since Casey had appeared in the Four of Nine's sights, he'd been their only prospect, and, for a while, it was a concession in Liza's eyes.
"I don't want the pretty boy," she'd say. "Give me some drugged-up loner at the end of their wits. Give me a deathseeker, give me a clown."
As it turned out, Casey ended up being a lot of these things.
"So," she asked, eyeing him, "what's with the scar on the cheek?"
Casey noticeably shied away at the question, shifting his collar with a cough. "Some… Fella," he stressed, "cut my cheek, with a beer bottle. He came onto a friend of mine, and I had the inclination to tell him to fuck off."
Liza snorted. "So, this dude just cuts you, huh? Seems like a bold reaction…"
"...Maybe I punched first, told him to fuck off second," Casey shrugged his shoulders, smiling. "Got him good, too. But he's got a buddy, and that buddy had a meaner right hook than I did, so, my ass bounces off the curb and suddenly, fwip," he expounded, mimicking a slicing motion against his cheek. "Blood on the sidewalk, glass in my face, and bam, I'm never going to the Empress again."
"The Empress?" she asked, feigning ignorance. "I think I've been there, and that matches with the stories I've heard. Hot lady in charge, they like AC/DC there?"
"That's the place."
Liza cackled. "That's what you get for being noble, butterballs. There are no white knights in the Empress, only peasants and servants. Still," she calmed herself, unable to stop smirking, "that's bold. Don't let a few scars take away that spirit."
He sighed, with a wry smile, and shook his head. "Speaking from experience?"
"The human experience," Liza stressed. "Whole lot of soulless fucks in this town, including the pudgy prick who picked on your princess - keep your head up."
"Thanks," he chuckled. "I'll try. By the way, I don't think I got your name, miss…"
"How 'bout you miss me with that miss shit," she elbowed him. "Liza, Liza Burns. And let me guess, I wanna say you're a… Cassius?"
"Close! It's Casey, though, you can call me "Case" if you want-"
"-Fuck that, Casey's short enough as is. Looks like we're near the arcade, anyways-"
"-Damn it," he cursed, noting the lock on the door, lack of lights, and the huge sign that said "closed". "Looks like we missed it by about… Six hours?"
Liza, without a word, ushered him aside and fiddled with the lock on the doors to the arcade. And when she kept fiddling, and Casey sputtered something about keeping a look out, she shattered the lock with a single hand, dragging them both in. There they were greeted with rows of gaming machines, relics from the 80s onwards. In particular Liza gravitated towards a favourite of hers, Double Dragon.
"W-Wait, what if someone catches us?"
"Then run, derr," she teased, poking her tongue out at him. Casey shook his head, and went about playing the game, stealing glances to Liza's side every now and then.
"I didn't take you for a gamer," he said. "I used to love this kinda stuff as a kid."
"Hey, gamer is a slur, and one I don't appreciate," she chided, smirking. "I find my time's better spent in here, rather than foofing about with the rest of Santa Monica. Keeps my head straight."
"A game about beating the shit out of people?"
"Don't sound so shocked, butterballs. Once you start to imagine all the little dudes were beating up as real people, then suddenly you don't feel so angry. Or, it backfires, and it makes you angrier."
They shared a laugh at that, dying in-game and just waiting at the restart screen. Their hands on the cabinet's sticks, fingers just hovering over the buttons, they waited. And they didn't know why. Perhaps there was something in the air between them; that sweaty, musty arcade air that had tried it's best to conceal itself with deodorant.
"You sound like you got a lot of stuff that, y'know," he cleared his throat, "gets you angry. I mean nothing by it, but-"
"-You scared that you just broke-and-entered, and are now stuck with me?" Liza finished. "There are worse places that you could be."
"Your company's great," he chuckled, "I just get the feeling that you know more about me than I know about you… So… What's life like for Burnin' Liza?"
She scoffed at him. And hit restart. "That tactic work on a lot of girls?"
"I could start, if you want. It all began when my ma and ba emigrated from China-"
"-I didn't ask, Casey," she said, all mirth sapped from her voice. "If… If you wanna know about me, then fine - I've had a shit streak of luck my entire life and it's led me to Los Angeles, the resting place of all hopes and dreams. Is that what you were looking to hear?"
She hated those words. But she hated more what was coming from Casey's mouth - Liza didn't need to know the man they were going to kill had a family. The Four knew he had fuck-all friends, but hearing this, it made her ill. He had the spirit of a wanderer about him it seemed, especially if he so eagerly followed her, and they were going to condemn that, forever.
"Liza, I'm sorry," he said, quietly. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I'll drop it."
She groaned. "No, fuck, no, it's not like that. I… I got a problem with trust. And without saying too much, the less you know about me, the better." Under her breath, she added, "for now", restarting the game once more, fiddling in her pockets for coinage.
Casey slipped a dollar in for them, nodding to her. "I'm still sorry. I find it hard to talk to people as of late. Feels like everyone's saying it's the end of the world, and no one's… I don't know, in their heads anymore."
"Tell me about it," Liza sighed. "All the bums and the preachers on street corners, all the murders as of late, all the news, all the fucking time burning in my retinas and shit with 'oh look, some foreign country's politely chiding us - better threaten 'em with fucking nukes', like, c'mon, give my head a break."
"It's a shame I'm not some kind of monster," Casey groaned. "Then I'd be elected instantly. Shake up the fucking country's healthcare, kick dirt in the old dog's eyes."
"Then again, if you were a monster, you'd be the same as them."
Casey gave her a knowing look. "Don't be so sure. I am not that great with kids."
Liza wheezed and rattled the christ out of the cabinet's controller, breaking into laughter and letting her avatar die at the hands of thugs. "Aw man, that's on you! C'mon, no more pedophile jokes, butterballs."
"Alright, alright," he held his hands up, playfully. "I'll Double Drag-on with some awful puns."
She swatted him, giggling still. "That's not funny."
"Then stop laughing."
"No," Liza snorted. "Fuck you. Get better material, Seinfeld."
"What's the deal with arcade machines these days?" Casey chortled, putting on a distinct, rubbery, whiny tone. "You put in a quarter, and get nothing back - it's like a bank, but with lightning-fast returns!"
She batted him again, harder than she would've liked. "If you don't stop I'm pinning you to the fucking wall, softboy."
"Oh, I'd hate that," he teased, "don't, oh please don't press me against the-mmph!"
Liza silenced those awful, awful jokes with a passionate kiss. She'd hate herself for it later, likely fuck up some part of their plan, but it didn't matter. Not in that moment, and not in the dull air of that lonely videodrome, embracing Casey tenderly. She ground her body against his, the rush of life inspired by him, sensing a passion well within her that had been dead for the past 10 years.
He reciprocated. Wasn't his first kiss; but she could tell he wasn't versed in the ways of the flesh. Not like it mattered, for they'd have plenty of unlife to practice that with; as dull as it would be. No, instead, Liza indulged herself in that singular moment of purely human passion, taking his body into her hands and cradling him.
When they broke, at his behest, saliva trailing between them, Casey looked wild with arousal, trying to assert himself already, cupping his hands 'round her ass. She wiggled in his grip, cupping him back, and he gasped.
"S-So," he panted, "bad jokes, a key weakness…"
"...Something like that, sure," she scoffed, pressing their heads together. "Now, I'm not one for getting down and dirty in the dirty, but if you were so inclined-"
"-Would you believe me if I said I was saving myself for marriage?"
"Not in the fucking slightest," Liza shook her head, laughing again. "I'm sure there's a filthier, dirtier bathroom we can find here - would that be more your style?"
Casey sighed, looking down, then back up at Liza. "You're beautiful. Liza, all we've done is play games but… I feel like you're like a force of goddamn nature. That being said… I'd like to get to know you better before we go anywhere."
In an instant, he was dropped. Slumping against the wall and falling to the ground with a dull thud, Casey made a grunt as he stared up at Liza. The joy and that passion were sapped, replaced now by a dead gravity that soured her mood. She felt truly at odds with herself; keen to engage in such wondrous carnal acts, but scared enough to keep that distance between them.
So she wouldn't feel like such a piece of shit when they finally sealed the deal.
So it wouldn't feel as bad when they hurt him, took him away from everything.
And so it wouldn't hurt her when he'd finally have enough of their shit and go his own way.
"Not how this works," Liza told him. Her eyes darted to the arcade's door, where she sensed a familiar and hulking form of a friend approaching. A friend whose domain she'd broke into, and sullied their prospective sire. "Oh fuck, gotta bounce, butterballs!"
"W-Wait, hang on, ah, d-damn it!"