HELL IN HEELS

He takes a sip of his drink. He shakes his head. She can't know how right she is, and he doesn't want to sit here talking to Rivkah about the girl who got away, or who slipped away, or, well, whatever, so he's glad when it turns to condolences, because for now it should be done.

"Oh I think that'd be spoiling." He says, and the smile stays put save for in his eyes. He buries a stray thought, painful in the way a splinter is, somewhere else for now. He belts out a laugh at the conspiracy. "No, no. Nothing like that."

When the topic of conversation switches back to her, she's taken aback for a moment, first because so very rarely men ever stopped talking about themselves when they had the chance, but mostly because she never knows how to talk about herself.

She does it fine on interviews when she has time to prepare and she rarely actually gets any personal, but this is nothing like that. Rivkah would like to share some of herself — not all, but definitely some — and she's stuck thinking about how empty her life feels.

As for the questions...he did promise to sate her curiosity. And watching gears turn in her mind, stuttering and stopping at every possibility, reconfiguring to keep up — he supposes he can find some entertainment in that.

"Not bitten. Born. There's a difference, darling. People don't usually pay for the bite, though. Typically it's an accident. A kill that wasn't fully.." With a chk from the back of his teeth, he makes a motion across his neck with his thumb as the invisible blade.

"Ascension works differently between packs. I'm sure you're aware of the major ones. Warwick, Harford, Eventide, Cerberus... Warwick, you challenge the previous Alpha. Whoever survives gets the title. I left a few years ago and joined Harford. They're...more like a democracy, really. Nothing as barbaric as what goes on in Warwick. Now it's not an overly formal process, mind you. There aren't ballots or anything quite so sophisticated, although that would have been easier. But with enough of the pack throwing their lot in with mine...that's all I needed." A pause, to let that settle. "As for how I did it — I just know how to talk to people. Us wolves are just like everyone else. We can be charmed. We can be tricked. We can be moved. We can fall for lofty ambitions dressed up in pretty words. That's how I convinced a bunch of werewolves to let me be their Alpha."

His head tilts. "My turn. Who spilled?"

She scoffs and rolls her eyes at the story of how he became an alpha. However impressive it was, she wasn't in the mood to hear about how charming and scheming her best friend was after the reveal. "I suppose congratulations are in order, then. And good luck to your — how do you call them? — betas? They're in for a treat."

"My parents told me. They've know for a while, apparently it's good for business, and I had to learn all about it," she feels almost pathetic in this position, being the last one to know, and she makes no effort to hide that in her expression. "I thought there was better things to do with that information than business, so here I am. I'm not convinced it was the best decision anymore."

He whistles low, clicking his tongue. "That's gonna have to be a problem for later-us," he muses, leaning back against the pool's edge, attempting to bite back his laughter, but it slips through anyway. Through it, he manages, "I know about the invitations because I got one. You're looking at the Harford's one and only fearless leader," he says, smug and grin all wide. "Newly appointed, mind you."

"Now are you gonna join me or what?" With that, he flicks a hand across the surface of the pool, sending a splash in her direction. Not enough to drench her, but enough to be annoying. "We might as well enjoy ourselves while you undoubtedly pelt me with questions. I may or may not have a few of my own."

"I'm good where I am," Rivkah hadn't exactly brought a bikini and she was still too pissed at her friend to play nice with him. As angry as she was, however, the scheming part of her brain knew this was an opportunity she couldn't pass on. Avi, a werewolf? She could definitely use that.

"Right, questions," she paced close to the edge of the pool, eyes fixated on Avi as she tried to formulate a reality that would make sense of what she'd just learned. "So, you got bitten. Intentionally? Did you have to pay for it? Who was it? The previous alpha?" A series of assumptions one after the other, but that was how her brain operated. "And how the hell did you convince a bunch of werewolves to let you be their Alpha? How does that happen? Did you talk your way through it? Did you have to kill someone?"

"Oh we're talking ancient ancient," he jokes. "Moses owes me money."

The second question gives him a little bit of pause, partly because he isn't really expecting it, but also because of just how she asks it - confidently, with certitude - kind of like she actually believes him. Maybe he's playing with fire in a hotbed like Port Leiry, but, well.

"Oh she was, she was wonderful." He says, and he doesn't need to really think about Atalja's face because she's practically staring at him, to the measure that if he weren't able to hear the thud of her heart in her chest, he'd wonder if he were being played with.

"Oh I'm not confident of that, s'why I had to come over here and put in the effort. Wouldn't do to just assume things of a lady, after all."

"Watch what you say about Moses, I'm Jewish," she quips back.

Rivkah does like that he's willing to put in the effort — it should be the bare minimum when approaching a woman like her, modesty aside. And the way he talks about Atalja and shares her name reads sincere enough to disarm her, even if just a little bit.

"Well, if she was anything like me, you must've been a very lucky man," she gave him a confident smirk followed by another sip of her drink. "And I'm sorry for your loss," she offers next, in a much more sympathetic tone.

Their texts go back and forth as usual, slightly flirty but never overtly serious, Rivkah was just easy for them to get along with. The other understood being in the spotlight and where Madison had made their presence slightly less bolstered, Rivkah continued to shine. Though they do suppose their streams and social media presence did of course keep them from disappearing into anonymity.

But that all aside, there will still things they haven’t disclosed. About how their schedule has changed, how their texts come fewer and further apart. Why they had disappeared for over a month. They knew how that had hurt Vanessa as it was, they wondered if they had done the same to the socialite. But they were at a loss of what to say and Rivkah hadn’t said much about their absence, about the way they had pulled away.

How were you supposed to tell someone important to you that you had died. That you were technically dead now? And to do so without an impending slap for having kept it from them? At least the other would know it wasn’t some joke meant to undermine her. At least they hoped she would. They at least wanted to have some level of control when they met up with her again, unaware of the work the other has been up to.

In a world that was so often fake, Madison was a real friend. Sometimes more than that, sometimes not, but always a friend. Which was why she was so deeply hurt when they seemingly vanished from her life without an explanation. Of course she wanted to believe it had nothing to do with her, that something happened to her friend that caused the distance, but what exactly was she supposed to think when she saw them continue to post like nothing happened?

So when the call came, Rivkah was brief, almost cold, agreeing to meet but not much else. She'll give Madison a chance to share their side of course, but there's trust lost between them, and Rivkah isn't known for giving it easily.

Avi intentionally declines Rivkah's invitation — mass produced and generic, lacking personalization. How tacky. Where was the pizzazz? He wanted to be wooed.

So he allows weeks to pass before reaching out with an invitation of his own. No return address, no sender.

Rivkah, I was devastated to miss your lovely dinner. Truly and sincerely heartbroken. But your invitation was sorely lacking, and I expected better from you. So let's try this again. I have a much better venue in mind, far more exclusive than your home. Just you, me, and whatever secrets you're dying to hear. Midnight. Waters Drive. Big empty house, hard to miss. The gate is open, unless you'd rather climb the fence. Bring only your curiosity, and leave your henchman behind. — A Friend

His friend is smart, he knows she'll come. The house he chose for this meeting has definitely seen better days. Dust and cobwebs line the abandoned rooms, sheets cover forgotten and abandoned furniture, and only the backyard remains even remotely sightly.

There, he waits, lounging in the corner of the pool, lit only by the moonlight and the few remaining, still functioning lights. His head is leaned back, , eyes closed as he allows the moon to wash over him. Behind him, there's a platter with a bottle in a bucket of melting ice and two glasses. It's the best he's got, and lukewarm food is a hard no.

At the sound of footsteps, he picks his head up. a lazy smirk plastered on his smug face, and he wiggles his fingers in a wave. "Fancy a drink?"

She still had her own personal methods of protection, of course, and as she walked into the mysterious house, she triple-checked to see if everything was in order; arms against both werewolves and vampires, just in case, though her intuition though her she wouldn't need either.

Rivkah couldn't stop her mind from wondering who it was who sent her invitation. At this she had already talked to most vampire leaders in town, and some of the most respected alphas. Nothing about the house gave her any clues either, but whoever was behind this clearly had planned many steps ahead. She was impressed.

...For about a minute.

"Avi, what the fuck are you doing here?" Her curiosity turned to anger and confusion as soon as soon as she saw her friend's smug face. "For fuck's sake this is not funny, you asshole," she threw her car keys at him, though she missed wide left. She rolled her eyes and shook her head, cursing him a few more times under her breath before something clicked and she turned back to him. "Wait, how do you know about the invitations?"

Finally, he gives an apologetic shrug, showing the undersides of his hands. "It's not a line, really, but if you must know."

He leans over, conspiratorial, and smiles. "I'm an ages old vampire and you've reminded me of my long lost love. I plan on haunting you whenever possible and maybe dying for our forbidden love."

Daniel's eyes roll. "But I suppose we could just start with names - I'm Daniel."

With another wave, she offers him the seat next to her. There was a definite chance this was still just another bad line, but in a city like Port Liery, joking about vampires would hardly be a coincidence, even if he wasn't one. Rivkah wants to play his game. She takes a quick sip of her drink before replying. "Rivkah. I'm sure it'll be a pleasure."

There's barely enough time for him to sit before she speaks again, "I have questions about your little story. First, just how old exactly is ages old?" She has a serious, inquisitive look in her eyes, and doesn't move her gaze from him for a second. The rest of the venue is a fading memory at this point.

"Second, what was her name? What was she like?" She casually skips the mention of him haunting her, as thrilling as that sounded for a second. First she wants to figure out if she believes in him. "And you said our forbidden love. What makes you so confident I'm gonna fall for you?"

Morgan had never really considered the comfort that came with assuming everyone was human unless they unzipped their skin suit to reveal something alien underneath. And despite everything she's experienced lately, she still believes with her whole heart that they're human. Monster is such an easy and ugly word to use. This whole things makes her... weary. She doesn't want to be suspicious of everyone she meets -- and worse still, she doesn't want to feel like these unique individuals need to disclose themselves to everyone. There's a reason for the secrecy, right?

"Well, when it rains, it pours. Maybe some folks are feeling emboldened, but... thirty years is a long time not to have any truly devastating incidents -- I'm assuming. Sorry if that's presumptuous of me," Morgan sighs. "I'm just saying, I think there's more good than bad. It's just hard not to see all the bad cropping up at once, once you know what to look for."

The girl's next words sting her, almost so pointed she wonders what homework was done before coming over to the arcade. The older woman winces, pressing her lips together tightly. It's true, she doesn't expect any real justice to come to whoever it is that killed her husband... for the same reason she didn't call the cops on Kiri that night. She deflates a little under the stranger's touch.

"I would love to find a way to make things safer for everyone, of course, but... there are things I cannot say. Not even if I wanted to. You just have to trust me in spite of that... I've lost loved ones, I know -- but others I love are..." She shakes her head. "I'm sorry, remind me of your name?"

"I can promise you, the last thing I want is to bring more danger into anyone's life, and that includes yours. Share what you feel comfortable sharing, keep your secrets if you have to." And as much as Rivkah meant every word she said, it didn't change the fact that she was deadly curious about this woman's life and what secrets a woman so ordinary as her could possibly be hiding.

Rivkah did a double take, though, when she was asked for her name. It didn't happen often. "Oh, my apologies, I'm Rivkah Kasprzyk, you might have seen me on tv once or twice? Usually just smiling to cameras and looking pretty, but such is my talent," a small self-deprecating joke that she regrets almost immediately.

"My family holds a great deal of influence in this city, and I can promise I have what it takes to make a real difference in Port Liery. I can leave you now to consider if and how you would be able to contribute to my cause. But keep in touch? You more than anyone should know how important this is."

Finally, a place to drink that isn't full of headache-inducing (really, he shouldn't even be able to get a headache, should he?) music that's all sound and no god-damned soul. It's a human place, though, and so he must tread carefully, but that's old hate to Daniel these days.

But all night now he's been watching one woman - positively entranced by her, though he's practiced enough to not be obvious in his fixation. Still, the resemblance is uncanny; the lines of her face, of her figure. The way she moves even - surely he's not so unlucky to be finding to ghosts from his past in Port Leiry. Lara being a vampire is enough of a shock; he's not sure he could take that sort of serendipity a second time without fleeing into the sea.

Her heartbeat proves that theory wrong - uncanny resemblence, nothing more - in a world with eight billion people, surely there's a few accidental twins. And yet he simply cannot help himself.

"Empty seat?" He asks, sitting and perching splayed fingers on the table and giving it a drum. "Wouldn't want to impose." He glances around to a few figures who seem to move in, like his presence offends them. "Sorry you just... look very familiar."

She needed that night, too. Her life had been so crazy since she'd learned about the supernatural that she just wanted to forget about all of that for a few hours, feel normal. It was easier said than done.

Specially when the hunters she'd hired to keep her safe suddenly make a move to protect her.

She waves them off in a quick motion before turning her attention to the stranger. "Please, do impose," she gave him a smirk before lifting a finger, ".... if you can come up with something better than 'you look familiar'. You must have a better line than that." Specially given she was on the cover of at least half a dozen magazines in the city.

Rivkah leaned back on her chair and looked at him from head to toe, deliberately slowly. "You have 20 seconds."

Morgan didn't have any clear answers yet about the wolf-dog in her arcade, so she isn't sure what to say to this young woman. At least, she knows what the girl wants her to say, and while it's not outside of the realm of possibility... that's a pretty strong accusation to make. And an entirely different can of worms that she doesn't want to open.

Her lip twitches a moment as she thinks to protest the other's statement -- some vampires have protected her. Aria came to warn her, Laure has taken care of her, and she wouldn't be surprised if there are others she doesn't even know about yet. And there was that girl from the masquerade, who probably was a werewolf if she had to make a guess, warning her about the verbena. These are still people. Her neighbors, friends, and customers. Morgan chews her cheek for a moment.

"I've had a lot of folks claiming the want to make sure I'm okay recently," she says, not trying to accuse the other of anything. "It's hard to know what their intentions are, or why I made it almost fifteen years without incident before this. So you'll have to forgive my caution." She walks closer to the visitor and sighs.

"But they're people too, you know. The vampires and the werewolves." Morgan pauses, rocking on her heels a moment and looking around the arcade. She wonders if that's part of the problem, ultimately. With a shake of her head she continues. "I don't disagree with you that there should be... something more, to keep others safe. But I don't know... Honestly, I can't tell if I was safer when I didn't know anything or now. And I don't want to put anyone else in harm's way by making a fuss."

Rivkah understands the impulse to protect herself, after all, it was part why she started doing this in the first place. But something about the way she jumped to defend their personhood felt passionate.

She had to wonder if the woman's connection with these monsters went much deeper than Rivkah realized.

"Of course they're people," she agreed, carefully considering her words before continuing. "But they don't play by our rules, do they? If I robbed this arcade, I'd be arrested, I would pay for my crime. What happens to them when they feel so inclined? What happens when vampires get hungry and end the lives of our loved ones?"

Rivkah stepped closer to the other woman with sincere sympathy in her eyes, "I'm very sorry if my visit scared you or caused any trauma to resurface... but I'm afraid we're not safe regardless of how much we know. It's the reason why I wanted to keep in touch with people like you, who have experienced this and knows the gravity of the situation. I wouldn't want to be alone and I don't think you should either."

She gently placed her hand on the other's arm. "You don't have to make a fuss if you don't want to, that's my job. But it would really help me if you could share what you know. We have to stick together."

Morgan can usually tell when someone hasn't been inside Retrocity before -- there's a moment of adjustment to the sheer sensory overload of the arcade. Sometimes, she can even tell if there's a good reason why they haven't visited before. It's usually in the expression that follows, either disdain for the childish hobby, disinterest in the space, or moreso, an eye of focus and alternate intent.

There's a woman walking, looking without seeing, as Retrocity's active buzz fades dully into the night. But Morgan doesn't really notice until there's just a few folks left, filing out. Then she spots the SUV outside, then the girl approach. The older woman narrows her eyes for a moment, trying to place why the stranger looks familiar. If this is another vampire thing...

"Oh, uh... yep. We're still here, against all odds," she says with slight confusion (although the song 'Sunglasses at Night' comes to her mind for a moment. Morgan's lips round into another question for a moment before it dies in her throat. Bats? Dogs?

They turn into bats now?

"You're not the first to come in asking... but I'll tell you the same as I told the news reporters. We had an incident with some rowdy teens," Morgan repeats, of the incident in fall. "And before Christmas, it was a wild dog that got in from the back alley. I... I hope you didn't come all this way late at night just to ask that."

"You can say vampires and werewolves. They don't protect you, you don't have to protect them."

Rivkah took a moment to look around the arcade. She couldn't help but wonder what made this so special as to continue to be a target of attacks. This was so... mundane. Or perhaps the reason was the owner herself, but then again, what does Morgan have that she doesn't?

"I'm sorry if I scared you coming here unannounced to discuss such a delicate subject, I promised it wasn't my intention," she spoke as she turned her attention back to the other woman. "I just want to make sure you are okay. See, I've just been introduced to this world myself and I noticed there's no one looking out for us. People. That doesn't feel right, does it?"

With a sigh, Rivkah leaned against a machine that was certain to be older than herself, relaxing her figure in front of the other. "Look, if you want to keep lying about troubled teens and rabid dogs, I understand, this shit isn't easy to deal with and you've been in enough danger. But I do think we can make a real difference if we start to speak up. It's your decision."