the city is at war || lizzie and mortimer [event]
Things were getting scary, fast. The punctures on her body said that louder than anything else, pinprick desperation from vampires less interested in sex appeal and having fun than gorging themselves with blood and disappearing into safer havens. At first she'd focused on her best friend, moved the girl to another room in the motel, and talked to her clients for more information.
The news was grim.
Lizzie had a long-held distaste for hunters, but this was disgusting, more worrying than anything else she had faced. She called up clients she wasn't sure would know, made sure they found safe places to be, and then turned her attention to the further reaches of her social circle. Mortimer was one of the last people she called, but also the only person who was, essentially, her business partner. That was what made her set up a meeting.
It was what led her to be sitting at a tiny table in the darkest corner of the club, on her fourth beer and itching for a line. Eventually he'd get there and they'd talk turkey, work out the frank ugly details of what came next, but for now, she drowned out the outside world.
