She’s in a sour mood which made her especially susceptible to the rage that naturally coursed through her veins and letting the rest of the town around her fall victim to the tendencies that comes with that primitive anger. All of that negativity was bubbling beneath the surface and just waiting for the right moment to finally hit the point of a violent explosion. When it did, it would not be pretty. It would be bloody. That was perhaps one of the few predictable and guaranteed things about her more erratic behavior spells. The other, well, was that she liked to drink. Blood was always her first preference but she had developed a taste for liquor over the centuries.

“You.” Her finger was directed at the bartender, the tip of her nose curled up as she looked at him. He was no friend of hers. Not that she had any many to begin with. “A gin and tonic. Now. You hardly look as if you have anything better to do.”