in this moment

His fingers grip the box cutter tighter when the dopple ganger makes a move toward him. God only knows what was packed snuggly inside the jacket next to the gun. It was highly likely that tattoo guy had back up plans just in case the bullet thing didn’t work, and it would be stupid of Christo to let his guard down. When he simply side steps him and looks at the albums, the small action does make Christo put his own weapon into his back pocket. Sure, this could all be a ploy to put a stake through his heart the minute he lets go of his own pitiful weapon, but he could count on his fast reflexes if needed.

Christo nods, turning around to face the CDs he begins to thumb through his own section. He doesn’t argue with tattoo lookalikes words simply because he didn’t care that much for either band. He had only brought them up for puns sake. Actually, his tastes leaned more toward groups like…”Have you ever listened to Foals, or Bombay Bicycle Club?” He turns around and grabs the album Holy Fire and examines the tracklist and shrugs, “I have a few theories… but i’ll keep them to myself for the time being.” 

The minimal information he was informed about with who he was on the hunt for was also disconcerting — sometimes there were special cases. Hell, his best friend, a halfling, was a prime example of that; who’s to say his spitting image wasn’t one of those cases? He’d proceed with caution, feel the situation out and ask a few questions without the looming threat of the pistol.

Skimming the tracklist on the album he’s handed, he nods. “I’ve heard a little of Foals. I’m not crazy for them.” Offering it back as he starts again, “Never heard of Bombay Bicycle Club.”

He browses some more for himself, pondering the Christo’s words. Vic really couldn’t blame him for keeping the theories to himself, but he can toss a question and a fact out to gain a little more knowledge on this guy’s background.

However, suck he did and well, that just made him curl in on himself a slight bit.  He was distracted from his armadillo like actions though as his companion wiggled his foot.  Laughter snuck out and the prince couldn’t help but laugh.  “I have ankles too.  Just not very good ones it seems.”

Victor’s grin widened when his equally as tall compadre laughed. It looked like he was finally warming up to Vic. Good!

He was about to open his mouth to make a somewhat suggestive joke about how even if his ankles were weak, that didn’t mean other parts of him were when the man introduced himself. The name wasn’t one he’d ever heard of before, but then his own wasn’t entirely all that common in Korea either.

Halfway through his masterpiece, in the back of his mind, he knew he heard the sounds of a fight, but pushed it aside as nothing. Again, it wasn’t the most surprising thing to encounter a scuffle around here. Jongdae ignored the ruckus and continued outlining a particular section in a bright, neon green. A particular song that he loved, but hadn’t heard in a while, started playing, and he turned up the volume, humming along as green paint particles formed a cloud in the air around him.

He was so immersed in his work, that he didn’t notice when a figure appeared behind him. The first thing to catch his attention was a blur flying past him, followed by a loud thud as a man collided with the wall. Jongdae gasped and pointed his spray can at the man, mistakenly identifying him as the source of the danger, until he caught the second stranger moving perilously closer to him.

With his brows furrowed with determination, he rolled to the stake that had fallen a few feet away with his fall and rose, moving quick to settle this once and for all. The guy was vulnerable with nothing but a piece of shit spray can and he raced to tuck his smaller stature behind himself when he saw the vamp readying to lunge forward. Unfortunately he wasn’t quite fast enough and watched with a steely gaze as he was drawn into the arms of the enemy. He needed to improvise and fast.

One of the tall man’s favorite past-times when it came to the undead supernatural was bringing up the show he’d hated almost as much as they did. Buffy was among the large roster of vampire films and shows that were unfavorable to the real life creatures themselves. Most claimed it insulting; that the creators of it molded their lives into some unrealistic and inaccurate portrayal of vampirekind alike. Vic was banking on this man being one of those critics.

His mouth upticked at the corner, smiling as he spoke to the fellow human between them. “You ever see Buffy, man?” The evidence was right there in the roll of the vamp’s eyes. He sneered about how the concept of vampires with or without souls was ludicrous, that the show restricted the truth about how every one of them was different with whether or not they could tolerate the sun and whose idea was it to make them appear like underground rats with all the sewer scenes. Victor countered back. Despite the time that had passed since the show initially aired, there was so much that the show correctly depicted it left him intrigued to know more about the creators themselves.