Caleb Erikkson

It’s easy for Mal to just ignore Caleb’s comment. He knows any retort he could make would just cause more trouble then it is worse if Mal wanted to mention any of Caleb’s bad taste, especially considering he feels the name for the bar is clear his brother never learns to move on. So instead he just shrugs, waving the bartender to pour him the same drink as Caleb before commenting. “Gotta eat where you can find it in this city since you all want to follow the rules of only feeding on those who are willing.”

Mal formed a look of confusion on his face. A brow lifted and he tilted his head side ways. “I thought being the most annoying person on the planet was a hobby?” He waited a second before looking like he came to a realization and just smirked in Caleb’s direction. “No you’re right. It is actually a full time job. No time for hobbies.”

x

“Rules generally keep others from finding a way to kill the unkillable,” Caleb pointed out. Sometimes his brother didn’t think of the long game. As much as he himself hated the witches, they’d already found a way to kill one of them, so what was stopping them from doing the same to the rest of them? There was no way of knowing, and that thought alone both frightened and angered Caleb all at once. 

“Apparently it is, because you don’t have much else going on,” he stated, eyeing a blonde at the end of the bar before she disappeared. “Between you and Freya, the two of you are going to be the death of my sanity,” Caleb sighed, rolling his eyes. “I’m assuming you two have been finding your own trouble to get into?”

-

“Who says I am looking for trouble? For all you know I might be trying to lay low.” She shrugged, before accepting her drink from the bartender, with a small thanks. She almost scoffed at the sentence that left her mouth. Laying low was not in her vocabulary, and she was one for the dramatics. After all, she liked to consider herself the fun one out of the siblings. Caleb was the careful one, and freya was the wild one out of the two of them. That’s how it had been for the last thousand years. 

“Are you talking about that vampire who tried to show me up in my own gym? I can’t help he might have lost his heart. Must’ve been my good looks.” She shrugged, before smirking as she raised the glass to her lips. Her twin was the one to help rid of the body. “Anyways, what’s the news with the witches and our dearly departed brother?” Her tone was more serious at this question. 

x

“Your face and literally everything I’ve ever known about you,” Caleb pointed out with little emotion to his voice, glancing down at the amber liquid in his glass as he swirled it around to take another drink. “You don’t know what the words ‘lay low’ mean. If you can tell me one time you’ve ever chosen laying low over fucking literally everything up, I’ll crack open my oldest bottle back there and get drunk with you right now,” he stated simply, knowing he was right because Freya knew nothing about calm.

“Can’t just kill everyone that puts you on your ass, Frey,” he replied, chuckling a little. “Wouldn’t you have tried to kill me by now then?” At the mention of his brother, Caleb hardened a little, finishing his drink and sliding it back to the bartender. “Nothing new. Witches don’t want to talk, probably because they don’t think they have to. I can change that,” he said with an obvious tone of hatred.

Mal hadn’t been back in town long, but still it was long enough to hear his brother’s lecture on not causing trouble in his bar. Of course that made Mal want to do exactly that. He never was one who liked being told what to do, much less being told what to do by his own brother. The chip in Mal’s shoulder always seemed to deepen when he was around his siblings. 

Still Mal found himself walking into 1120 in hopes to at least just get under Caleb’s skin as much as possible. It was easy to spot his brother heading to the bar and Mal felt the smirk growing on his face as he followed in step behind him.

As Caleb spoke Mal positioned himself beside him, moving too quick to grab the drink meant for his brother and taking a long sip from it. He couldn’t help but make a face. “Brother, I thought you had better taste then when ever this is.”

-

The moment he heard that voice, Caleb knew his nerves were already shot. He loved his brother, obviously, but sometimes his siblings really aimed to get on his very last nerve, and it usually ended in a massive headache along with a bottle of scotch being consumed. “Better taste than you for sure, I saw that thing you were with last night. Almost put....ah what was her name....Penelope? Almost put that girl to shame and she had stalker eyes,” Caleb replied, tipping his glass in his brothers direction.

“Don’t you ever get tired of being the most annoying person on the planet? You could get a hobby, like knitting, or one of those crime podcasts that everyone is so obsessed with,” he said, swallowing the remainder of his drink.

Herr brother owning a bar, only meant that she could always have free drinks. Well, she could get herself free drinks wherever she went with the power of compulsion, or flirting. But, it was nice not having to work so hard for something free. She decided that this was the perfect time to aggrevate her twin, and it was something enjoyed doing with any chance she had. Besides, weren’t twins supposed to be your unfaltering best friends. 

“And sharing the same womb isn’t?” Freya smirked, and stepped to the side as she waved the bar tender to bring her a drink. “I’ll have whatever he’s having.” She announced, before turning her attention back to Caleb. “You could help me by not greeting me with such sass everytime I try to scare you. Literally ruins my mood.” She gave him a mock pout face, before finding a seat among the many empty bar stools. 

-

Somehow with the scent of freesia and blood, he knew it was his better half, but he loved screwing with her anyway. She made it so easy anyway, what with sucking down half his alcohol supply on a nightly basis. Caleb rolled his eyes, nodding to the bartender as he scurried off to make her drink at the approval of his boss. “Maybe that’s why I can’t stand being so close to you now,” he pointed out, smirking a little as he took a sip from his glass.

“Why? I love ruining your mood, it means you’ll annoy me a little less for one night,” he retorted with an arched eyebrow, leaning back against the bar. “What kind of trouble are you looking for anyway? Didn’t you just get into some trouble for something the other night?”

The bar was Caleb’s happy place, the one spot in town that none of his siblings could wreck because they had an agreement. It was the one piece of the city they weren’t allowed to wreak havoc in. Everywhere else, they could start a bloodbath, but 1120 was his one slice of New Orleans that remained untouched. It didn’t mean Caleb hadn’t crushed a few skulls in his day, but that was his business. 

He sat in his usual spot, sipping on a glass of finely aged scotch as the people buzzed around him. It wasn’t unusual to be full mid afternoon, but it was always just a little surprising at the very least. After a few minutes of people watching, Caleb stood and made his way over to the bar, shooting a look at the bartender who immediately poured him another drink, his attention wavering over to someone that stopped behind him. “Can I help you with something? If you’re close enough for me to smell your breath, you’re too close,” he stated plainly, glancing back at the intruder.