Ailson Benefit Ball

[Evelyn]

There wasn't a single sound in the office just ahead. No, that didn't mean nobody was in there. Evelyn's heels came to a complete halt. She knew; that bitch knew her secret. Maybe if she quietly backed up and turned around ....

"Not. So. Fast."

Damnit, she was so close, too. Her eyes rolled in annoyance before she turned around to face the evil landlady.

"You always manage to sneak past me every night, but not this time."

She was so good at doing it, too. With super hearing and smell, it wasn't too hard, until Clarisse starting paying attention to what time Evelyn left her flat every night, and watched the front doors like a hawk.

"Helloooo Clarisse." And she meant that in the most unfriendly, threatening way possible.

"You don't need to say it like that, Hannibal Lecter." Well, her mother didn't need to give her such a name, then. Evelyn's eyes glanced up at the clock on the wall. She had about fifteen minutes if she was going to make it there on time, but her useless talks with this lady usually lasted longer than that. Maybe if she kept that persistent mouth of her shut, and just let Clarisse do the talking this time, she could still arrive before seven o'clock.

"We need to talk about this job situation." Oh, god, here she goes again.
"I have never been late with the rent. Why are you so persistent about seeing where my money comes from?" So much for keeping her mouth shut.
"Because it's not normal, not having a job but still able to afford rent and ... oh my goodness, is that Versace?"
"No."
"Yes it is."
"I'm running late."
"But how did you....?"
"Gooooodbye Clarisse." And with that, she quickly brushed by her and bolted for the door. Thank god Evelyn could run in heels, and Clarisse cannot.
"GET A JOB, EVELYN!!"

Ugh, fine. Maybe Evelyn would actually have to get a job. It does look suspicious, going out all night and spending all this money on new clothes every week, and then coming home with no pay stubs or any other proof of a stable source of income. She would've been just fine with the last landlord. At least he didn't give a damn where your money came from, as long as it was there to collect every month. What a bother. Humans can be so unnecessarily nosy.

There was a guest list, and no, the name Evelyn O'dell wasn't on it. However, there was a male human holding that list. So with a polite, "Good evening." and a quick smile, plus her expensive wardrobe for the evening, she was, all of the sudden, one of the most important guests there.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, ma'am! There was obviously a typo!"

There was no need to talk to him any further. Another simple smile to say thanks and she was in the door. It was an elegant place, filled with all sorts of impressive decoration. Funny, The Ailson Benefit Ball, which was a annual charity event to raise money and awareness for homeless shelters across London, looked pretty expensive. You wouldn't catch a homeless person within forty kilometers of this place. However, you would catch a lot of very rich, lonely business men attending this event.

And that was the exact reason Evelyn decided to get all dressed up this evening.

"Madame..." Her head turned at a voice that appeared to be calling out toward her. How cute, this place had a maitre'de. "... you're coat, please."

She slipped off her long, cream-colored dress coat to reveal a black, barely knee-length strapless dress. It was a gift from her date last week. She hadn't worn it since that night, but oddly hadn't thrown it out yet. No matter the reason, judging by all of the eyes that kept glancing in her direction, it was obviously the perfect dress for this event.

Lonely and hidden in the shadows, Evelyn found a table that was near the back of the room. It was perfect. She was never the one to sit in the front row. Ordering a gin and tonic from the waiter, she settle down and her eyes immediately scanned across the room. Who would be the lucky fellow to leave with her after the event was over?

Well, who would be the unlucky fellow to leave, and become Evelyn's dinner, after the event was over?

[GoRDon]

"Dinner?"

A fine dark eyebrow quirked at the prissy miss that simpered at his side like a diamond studded limpet. Usually he wouldn't be caught dead (or undead) with such a creature, but seeing as how he was the one to enable her to even offer a penny to this fundraiser in the first place... Protocol must be met.

"You know I never go beyond the boundaries of professionalism," he says with a cool glance across the room, "Miss Hughes."

"Call me Irma."

Her attempt to seduce slid off his shoulders with barely a hint of interest save for a small "Hmn." of acknowledgment from pale lips. What was it with these human females and their assumptions that everyone with XY chromosomes would instantly fall at their feet. There was nothing she had that could make him bat an eyelash.
Her 'plump' lips, pumped with chemicals.
Her body which had been altered many a time under the knife.
Gordon could practically smell the silicon that resided within her large bosom and was not impressed by how fake she was. Inside out.

What about her money?
Certainly not of that much importance.
After existing for so many decades, money was no longer a necessity. Just another winning play-piece on a chess board full of pawns. Miss Hughes' divorce from an elderly Palm oil plantation owner had merely been a little something to occupy himself with until he found better games to play.
And from the look of the people gathered tonight, he just might find it.

Gordon checked his coat and his ditzy date at the door, but his gloves stayed on.
"Miss Hughes, meet..." he pauses to check the name of the man at the counter, "Bob."
Placing her gloved hand in the custody of Bob, he offers a curt smile.
"Bob, Miss Hughs. Miss Hughs, Bob. I'm sure you both have much in common, collecting old coats..."

It was like ridding himself of a huge weight, a stain that was just aching to be removed. The vampire breathed in deep the scents of expensive perfumes of the rich and pampered, slowly breezing through the throng while offering a nod here and there to those he recognised.
Ah yes, the cream of society.
Perhaps it was a good time now to start picking apples for his basket?

Maybe Madam Leon's young niece.
Rumor had it she'd been careless with her inheritance and was now living mainly off her rather reluctant Aunt. But she was an heiress and that meant Madam Leon had to adhere to her duty as the only relative who cared. Wouldn't Gordon be the kind one to offer his... services.

Maybe Mr Terrance Walters.
A big fan of the stock market ,race courses... and men.
Not that anyone was supposed to know about that little tidbit of course, what with him as the only one to head his father's business. No family, no big scandal, yet. Gordon gently lets the back of a gloved hand brush accidentally against the arm of the middle-aged mogul, barely more than a whisper of a touch but just enough to gain the right amount of attention.
It just might be time to take up his offer for ...a meal.

But as he continues his journey through a throng of heartbeats, it was the lack of one that finally catches his eye. Right there in the corner, watching from the sidelines sat a deadly nightshade. Her gaze roamed just as he roamed the dance floor, obviously on the hunt. But whether it was for food or play, or both, that was still to be seen.

It had been a while since he'd had any contact with another immortal, most of these younger ones were always in a rush, always in a hurry. Impatient fledglings.
He decides to call off his own hunt for the moment, and comes to the bar that stood just behind her table, seating himself on one of the plush stools before ordering himself some vodka.

Once the bartender had his back turned, Gordon spoke below his breath, just enough for the vampiress to hear.

"And round and round they dance and play, as lovely as they are horrid... Dirty, pretty things."

[Evelyn]

Too obese for her shallow tastes, but he was one of the only ones that didn't have alcohol running through every single vein in his body, yet. Humans were so quick to get drunk wherever there was an open bar. Well, at an event where rich, money-greedy people watch their precious bills be donated to a charity such as this, drinking yourself to the point of unconsciousness was somewhat understandable.

Thomas Tremaine was the name they called him.
Despite his unattractive appearance, he seemed to be rather popular with the younger female crowd, which was definitely because he was much more than comfortable, financially. There was some talk, near the door, about him being a CEO of some company, and how that company donated quite a bit of cash for this charity. A bonus for Evelyn, she would be able to eat and maybe shop around a bit, afterwards.

His popularity would be a bit of an issue, though. Evelyn couldn't just feed off of him and dump the body wherever she wanted to. No, she would have to plan this accordingly. Perhaps stage it as one of London's homeless men mugging him on the way home. Oh, ironically funny, believable, and a good cover. She would have to think about that plan a bit more.

Brainstorming thoughts swirled through her mind as her eyes danced with the people across the floor. The music wasn't half bad, some school orchestra that, bless their souls, tried so hard to mimic classical artists and their masterpieces. The people, however, clearly never stepped out of their offices and cubicles enough to learn the definition of rhythm. Mr. Tremaine obviously had never set foot in a ballroom before tonight. A slight feeling of unwillingness shivered through her. Evelyn was going to have to sacrifice a couple of toes for her meal.

His voice was a subtle, and it was questionable as to whether it was directed toward her, or himself. Either way, her eyes immediately shifted over toward the bar at the sound of it.

Stunning, like many of her kind, which was no surprise. She couldn't see much of his face from this distance and in this light, but he had a sort of ... beautiful, yet lethal look to him. Mmm, her two favorite adjectives. It was awkward that Evelyn hadn't notice his presence before. Perhaps her stomach had too much of her attention at the moment. Glancing once more toward the crowd of, in his words, "Dirty, pretty things." She smirked as she arose from the table. He was right. They were disgusting creatures, yet lovely, in the sense that they tasted lovely, anyways.

Hmm, it would be a while before she would actually begin her hunt with Mr. Tremaine. She had time to make a few acquaintances.

"More horrid than lovely, if you ask me." She responded, her tone just above his. Her hand raised slightly tipped the already empty glass to the bartender as she approached the bar. Turning her back toward the bar, she slid onto the stool just beside the vampire.

She winced, and a slight chuckle came out as she continued to observe her prey. Poor Thomas. This was the second dance partner that had to walk out on him, because her feet just couldn't take anymore stepping on. "They never cease to entertain me, though."

[GoRDon]

Like all vampires, he had no need for nourishment and alcohol certainly wasn't something that gave him much of a buzz as it did when his own blood once flowed through his veins. But he still enjoyed the taste of it, the feel of the cool liquid slowly flowing down his throat. Not unlike the blood so wonderfully donated to ease his daily huger.
These days, most things were 'borrowed'.

But was it really so bad a deal?
While many mortals would argue that the Vampiric way of living was murder, Gordon preferred to think of it as a sort of favor to the human race. As predators would pick off the weakest from the herd, so did most vampires with their prey...
Most.
After all, it wasn't that much fun to stick to a diet of stupid everyday. The thrill always lay in the hunt itself, how well you could twist the mind until even the self-proclaimed geniuses could be made to believe that they asked for the mercy of your fanged kiss.

Poor little lovely lambs.

"More horrid than lovely, if you ask me."

A small huffed chuckle as he caught the sight of an empty glass in the corner of his eye, his own fingers lightly tapping along the edge of his chilled glass.
"And if I asked, I'm sure you would include the ones that still twirl across the room, da?"
The dark head turns to see her refined profile next to him and just from a single glance alone he could tell that she wasn't just another fledge newly risen from the grave. He guessed that she could either be just well into her first century or more, her languid manner lacked the initial nervousness of someone still getting used to having to kill to feed. No, she practically oozed with confidence.

"They never cease to entertain me, though."

He swivels his seat around to the sound of a muffled yelp and sees the source of her amusement. Steely blues dart from a limping young lady to the culprit who now tried to look as casual as possible without looking anymore foolish than he already was.

A deep baritone laugh slips past usually stern lips, soft and intimate as if he had just shared a good joke with his new immortal companion. And currently, said joke was trying to entice another unfortunate young soul to accompany him on the dance floor.

"Ah, an interesting choice." he says, swirling his glass in what looked like a precariously light hold between his fingertips, "Mister Tremaine wouldn't be my ideal, but I suppose one cannot help but admire the sheep's wool even if it has no other ... attractive features."

This was a man who wasn't as discreet about his skirtchasing habits as most company leaders, and while Gordon had never worked with or for Thomas Tremaine ,he was not entirely off his radar. Like most men his age, Tremaine was living his third childhood through his younger conquests. An unconscious belief that the more he surrounded himself with girls barely into their twenties, the more youthful he'd appear.

Youthful indeed, like a fat prune beside a peach.

But Gordon couldn't blame him entirely, since it was in the opinion of these powerful men that they would live forever. How ironic that he and the temptress in black beside him were the only two in the entire room that held true immortality in their unbeating hearts.

"Dancing says so much about a man, see how he keeps stepping off on the wrong foot? Pulling her instead of leading her?"
A glass laden hand gestures slightly towards Thomas who was now attempting to impress a girl who looked like she'd need emergency first aid before the night was over.
"He thinks that by moving her the way he wants, he is showing his qualities as a dominant male... Poor fool. No alpha male would need to assert his rights through clumsy force."

Power was something that attracted the Russian vampire, it was how he chose his clients, how he worked through the plans for his next game. Termaine had no real power save for the one he held in his office, but he would make for very good sport if one wasn't too put off by his mannerisms and behavior.

"You know," he says with a sly glance over to the female vampire, "There is a way to avoid getting yourself too badly injured on the dance floor. Notice how he tends to step out on his left? It his stronger leg, where he keeps most of his weight on. Simply keep yourself towards his left and not a toe will be harmed. It may take some clever maneuvering, but nothing you cannot handle I'm sure..."

A leather clad hand is held out to her, palm facing up instead of sideways like a typical handshake.

"Gordon Vasilchikov."

Translation:
Da- Yes

[Evelyn]

Her heart would've skipped a couple of beats, that is, if it had a beat to skip from. You wouldn't have seen it on her face. Her eyes still appeared to be fixed on the dance floor and Thomas Tremaine, but he wasn't holding her attention anymore. No, not since the vampire turned around. Focused on her peripherals, instead, it was the immortal's face she actually looking at.

His eyes...

Yeah, they were blue. A very familiar icy blue, and they should be familiar. Every time Evelyn glanced at her own reflection, she saw the same colored eyes staring back at her.
Icy blue eyes.
And they always reminded her of her creator, and his sad, icy blue eyes.

Evelyn hated blue eyes.

His laughter snapped her focus back onto the dance floor, and once again she was looking at her clumsy potential dinner. His blood was enticing, not anything special like a gourmet meal, but he did have the best scent, and biggest wallet bulge in his pant pocket, in this room. However the more she saw of him, the less appetizing she found him. Really, no matter how much money he was carrying, what good was her food if she couldn't even enjoy playing with him?

As hungry as Evelyn was becoming, she would wait a little while longer to make her decision on Mr. Tremaine.

She angled herself toward the vampire sitting next to her; first her body, and then after a moment of hesitation, her eyes followed but instead of resting on him, she glanced over toward her refilled drink. One hand grabbed and raised it to her lips, and then her head turned, and still holding the drink, her eyes returned back toward her prey.

From the way he spoke, it sounded as if he had some basic knowledge of the human. A smirk appeared from his words. "Yes ..." she agreed, with a slight chuckle escaping through her breath as she thought of the word attractive. "He is just as attractive to me like a 20 ounce steak is to him."

There was no other emotion Thomas produced for Evelyn besides hunger. No human could cause Evelyn to feel anything else. Unlike many of her kind, there wasn't any past or memories of mortality for her to connect to. Evelyn wasn't human; she never considered herself one. Humans were simply her livestock, nothing more.

He must have been an older vampire, just from the way he talked about Mr. Tremaine's dancing. There were very few younger men, both vampire and human alike, that were properly taught how to dance. Evelyn herself learned classical ballroom dancing in the early 1900s. It was definitely on the list of one of the most boring things she had ever done, but she was happy to have been taught how. Dancing can tell you a lot about a person, and not to mention, it was another good way to get close to her prey.

A few more slight chuckles came out as he continued to explain Mr. Tremaine's movements, and he was exactly right. Thomas looked more as if he was conquering the poor woman, not leading the way for her. It looks as though if Evelyn wanted a real dance, she would have to find a way to lead Thomas, without him knowing that she was leading him, of course. Men are so egotistical; god forbid if they ever trusted a dominant woman.

She took a small sniff, just to remind herself of why she was going to mingle in the middle of the human-filled dance floor with the most clumsy man at the ball. Along with his blood, she picked up something slightly interesting. Evelyn stared straight ahead at a woman near the door. Her eyes searched around the dance floor for someone, and her thoughts held a description of someone who looked a lot like the vampire sitting next to Evelyn.

His gloved hand caught the corner of her eye. Evelyn glanced down toward it, then shifted herself to face him (she always faced whomever she was introducing herself too). Gently placing her fingers atop his, she glanced up toward his face ...

His eyes were even the same shape as his ...

"My toes thank you very much, Gordon." A smile crept along her face. "Evelyn O'dell ... and I think that woman is looking for you." Her eyes shifted toward the door, at the female human who was now walking closer to them.

[GoRDon]

Irma's voice carried toward him like the incessant cries of an irate banshee , just as piercing and annoying. With a slight tilt of his head he watched from the semi darkness as the trollop in women's clothing practically stomped her way over to where he held the hand and pleasured company of the female vampire.

An inner sigh threatened to ruin the amiable atmosphere he was currently experiencing, it had been a while since he could share the secret pleasures that came from the hunt of man while admiring and ridiculing his faults. Never the less, as much as Gordon tried to keep away from being out in the open too much, he knew that with his own reputation to up hold there was no room for error.

Any lack of discretion or carelessness on his part could lead to something more unpleasant than Miss Hughes' nattering and while Gordon did love his games, he refused to be led by something as trivial as 'thrill-seeking'.

His father taught him that years ago.

"My toes thank you very much, Gordon. Evelyn O'dell ... and I think that woman is looking for you."

The sigh truly escaped then, but instead of the expected melancholy, it was heavily laced with amusement.
"Not so much looking as scouring Miss Evelyn," he says, letting her name roll of his tongue in his rich accent, "Miss Hughes, I'm afraid, does not know the meaning of..." he pauses as the woman in question near trips over Evelyn's potential prey.

"... Manners."

Once she had managed to untangle herself from Mr Tremaine she continued to make a bee-line for the bar.

"Despite being born into a sort of aristocracy and wealth, Miss Hughes unfortunately was not imbued with the culture of the upper-class she was raised with."
One would think Gordon actually felt pity for the wench, if the cruel curve at the corner of the lips hadn't been present.
"She may be dripping with diamonds now, but don't be fooled, it's all just a ruse for the unsuspecting, like her previous husbands."

As she came closer, Gordon turned back to Evelyn with an utterly wicked gleam in his eye, "Perhaps, if you care to join me, you could help me make Miss Hughes feel a little more... Comfortable?"

The deceivingly delicate hand was brought just a scant hair's breath away from his lips in the mark of a gentleman's kiss, remaining chaste and respectful without any skin contact.

"Gordon! What are you doing?!"

The dark head pulls away as if he only just noticed her presence, his face the perfect picture of mild shock with his lips parted slightly. All vampires became good actors in time, seasoned with the years of practice during more prolonged hunts.

"Why Miss Hughes, I had no idea that Bob would tire of yourself so soon..."

She was completely ignorant of his little insult, her feminine pride obviously hurt by the fact that Gordon seemed to have no care for how wonderful she looked this evening. On her verbal tirade she went, going on and on about how long she took to get ready for this evening and how many invitations from admirers she'd turned down just so she could bring her Accountant as her date.

By the time she got to the part of her woeful tale in where one of her golden curls got stuck in the curling iron, Gordon shook his head and tsked.

"Come now Miss Hughes, surely there is no need for such a display, da?"
His tone was cool, the kind that was heard in the voice of an adult speaking to a child throwing a tantrum. A faux pout was presented to her as she fumed.
"I thought you would have such a wonderful time with Bob, I was only thinking of how you would spend your evening next to boring old me. Instead I have given that bothersome task to Miss Evelyn O'dell here. Am I not thoughtful?"

That he had not relinquished the gentle hold on her hand was most definitely done on purpose. A way to push Irma to greater heights of outrage, and it was working. The woman looked like she was about to stop her little Ferragamo clad foot on the floor as she spun around to face the hussy who had so rudely stolen her Gordon from her. A girl possessive over he dollies.

"And who the hell are you?"

[Evelyn]

A law of nature, you always want you can't have. Like the purity of a child's blood to a vampire, the humans were always secretly drawn to the beautiful immortal creatures, and they should be. The two vampires in this room held all of the human's precious little answers to life. Not only were they incapable of aging, but they were supreme; a creature with much more physical and mental strength than humans. By no means were vampires perfect, but to the humans, they were another step closer. The way they spoke, moved, and even their scent was naturally better than any human's natural features.

For that reason, alone, any mortal creature would gladly volunteer their life for a chance to become one of them, despite the dark and sick habits that came along with perfection. Not everyone can handle being as naturally evil as a vampire is supposed to be, and that's the key reason why humans were just food, and nothing more to Evelyn. Well, that and no human she has ever met was worthy enough to share her time-stilled world.

This human especially wasn't worthy of becoming a vampire. How dare her for even picturing one in her thoughts. Piercing blue eyes slightly narrowed on the girl as she stumbled all over her future dinner. That little bitch, infesting her prey with her disgusting germs like that.

"I see what you mean." She admitted hissingly.

Her persistence was impressive, yet disappointing. If Miss Hughes would've just stayed a second longer, she could've noticed just how adorable she looked with Mr. Tremaine. But, unfortunately, pushing away with brute force from Thomas, her attention returned directly to the bar, where her beloved perfect immortal was ... with another woman. Ha, the thought of that, and Gordon's comments, brought a teeth flashing, chuckling smile to her lips, and a few playful ideas.

And with that, she looked up at the blue-eyed vampire with a wicked gleam of her own in her eyes. "You read my thoughts, exactly."

There was no need to pretend that Evelyn didn't notice her approach them. Miss Hughes and her have been sharing short glares here and there ever since she walked through the door. Call it animalistic or territorial, but whenever there was a female, especially a human female, that showed possession over anything, Evelyn just had to prove them wrong. She was the vampire, she was the more supreme being, and she enjoyed so much putting the little humans in their place, and showing them who was really in control.

This was not going to be difficult, at all. As the mortal raged on about such petty things, Evelyn grabbed her now watered downed glass, with her empty hand, of gin and tonic and downed the rest of it down with ease; not even a slight sting burned her throat as it slid down to her empty stomach. She silently scowled in annoyance at the bar below her as she raised her glass, showing the need for another refill. Evelyn could already tell that this was just the beginning of her, 'look at how pretty i made myself for you' story. Seriously, if she thought this was the way to win a man over ...

"Something the matter, miss?"

Evelyn picked up her head at the whispering bartender, who gently took the empty glass from her hand. A slight smirk showed as she whispered in response.

"Jealousy." A slight nudge of her head toward the woman behind her. "It can be a real bitch sometimes."

A simple smile and nod from the bartender and he stepped away with her glass. "You'll be needing another one of these, then." Yes. If only another one of those would have any affect on her. That would be extremely useful.

Seriously, how can she possibly see herself as a real woman? Evelyn's scowl was clearly still on her face as she turned around to the sound of Gordon's cooing words. Please, the woman isn't 12. Let her deal with her own skin and wardrobe problems.

A very smart advice for all men: the excuse, "It's not you, darling. It's me." ALWAYS works. Always, even on vampire women (mainly because vampire women know that it is actually YOU, not them).

A welcoming, yet threatening smile spread across her flawless face at the mention of her name. Yes, his time was spent with Evelyn, not you, dear. No, never you. If she thought this immortal male liked her before, there was definitely some doubt in her mind now. Still, the challenge was in her eyes. Come on, sweetie. She was about to try and prove to a vampiress that she better off with him than the immortal beauty was is. She was about to try and prove that she was better for any man than Evelyn O'dell was.

Human women can be so naive.

"And who the hell are you?"

Excuse me?

. . . .

EXCUSE ME?!

Her smile tightened a little bit, as well as her grip on his hand. No manners indeed, just like he stated before. Well, if she was going to be a bitch, two can play that little game. Getting up from her stool, Evelyn walked a little bit closer to the vampire, who was now temporarily her vampire. She bent down slightly, so that her face was just a short hair away from his. "Gordon, darling." She cooed right before pressing her soft lips against his perfect little cheekbone. "She doesn't know about us? I thought you said that all of London knew about us."

[GoRDon]

The tightening of fingers over his own sent a sharp bolt of excitement racing through his body, the hidden steel beneath a facade of butter soft skin a reminder of whom he was sitting next to.
Not that Gordon really needed reminding.

His own muscles began to tense ,like the slow inching of jaguars before a wounded tapir, a subtle roll of his shoulders as he prepared himself for his next move. Hunting with a partner was not something Gordon indulged himself in often, but when he did, he thoroughly enjoyed himself in being privy to his partner's techniques and predatory skills.
Eveyln would take the lead, and Gordon was all to happy to follow her dance steps.

Yes... A much more competent dance partner than Tremaine indeed.

Eyelids laced with dark lashes lowered in a deceptively demure manner as the vampiress drew closer, his lips parting ever so slightly in the perfect reenactment of a man who was completely besotted with the company he kept.
It wasn't a hard task to take pleasure in the gentle pressure of her silken lips , for Miss O'dell was very much an image of feminine perfection without the need for plastic amendments or toxic chemicals.

Unlike Miss Hughes who was currently gawking like a landed trout and gasping in that overly mousey squeak of offense.

"Gordon, darling. She doesn't know about us? I thought you said that all of London knew about us."

A long ,drawn out sigh and dramatic roll of his gaze upwards in exasperation was his immediate reply as he let his arm encircle Evelyn's slender frame from behind with his elbow still resting on the bar. A sign of mutual possession without being too obvious. And while he would usually worry about getting that message across with Irma's reputation for having a thick skull, it looked like she was reading the signs just right.

Must be that female-sensitivity thing.

"Ah Milaya," he says with a sad shake of his head, "All of London does know about us, save for one particular..."
A pause to cast a disdainful once-over on the spluttering human, before he shrugs.
"Individual. You will forgive Miss Hughes over here, it has been a tedious task trying to converse with her and make her see reason. She likes to~"

"Hellll-O!" she shouts with the exact 'duh-face' that could be found on the faces of many teenagers in those ridiculous MTV programs, "I'm right here you know?!"

"...Interrupt me."
A disapproving raise of the brow towards the woman before he gives Evelyn a hopeless look that could rival that of a puppy-dog's.
"You understand it was not my fault Milaya moya, I cannot help it if some people cannot understand these things."

For the furious Miss Irma, her ire had blinded her to Evelyn's beauty and had already drawn a pair of devil horns, a beard and a moustache with her mental marker. All her life she'd been given everything and anything she could ask for, twice if she so pleased. So while she may not be as in love with Gordon as she made herself believe, the sleazy weasel who had her paws all over Gordon (Kissed him too! How dare she...) was putting up a challenge that Irma Hughes refused to lose.
What she wanted, she got.

"I've known Gordon much longer than you have missy! And there is no way he would go out with you in your last season dress and skanky fashion sense!"
In truth she inwardly coveted the other woman's clothes, but since this was supposed to be a 'cat-fight', there was no way in hell she was going to even admit such a fact.
"Why don't you just go home girlie and leave him with a real woman."

That ridiculously smug look on the mortal's face was enough to make the Russian vampire take into serious consideration, the idea of just disposing of her into the nearest ditch to save both humanity from a headache and vampires from a stomach ache.

"Miss Hughes, I must warn you. You are not making yourself look any better towards my..."
Those blue eyes darken as he feigns thought and contemplation before turning to Evelyn with a smirk that could only be described as evil.
"How would you call yourself Evelyn my dear, you know my English is not so good these days."

Translation:
Milaya: Sweet one
Milaya moya: My sweet

[Evelyn]

An instant, cat-like grin spread across her flawless face as her eyes turned their attention to the little miss Irma, and they were very proud to see the consequences of her kissy actions. The jealous, hateful thoughts swirling around in that small human brain of hers touched Evelyn so much, her heart would've melted. That is, of course, if she had a heart to begin with.

There was nothing more fun than playing games with the humans. Their minds that have been mostly destroyed by the weak societies they follow like robots were so easy to play around with, so easy to confuse and manipulate. They were like those tubs of clay Evelyn sometimes saw at the store .. oh, yeah; Play-doh. Yes, she always enjoyed molding them, slowly torturing them from the inside without them even noticing. And with a lovely partner like Gordon here, well, that made it even more fun.

Oh, such a sigh coming from him. Continuing on with their little act, Evelyn leaned back on the side of the bar, her eyes glancing suspiciously at the vampire below her now while her arms slightly crossed over each other. She could feel the girl's gaze on her, and with each exotic-accent filled word coming from Gordon's mouth, the gaze from her was more intent, as if she was trying to burn a hole through Evelyn's "soft", perfect skin.

She really shouldn't waste so much energy. The poor girl was going to be too tired later, when she would have to run and scream for somebody to help her from these evil, blood-thirsty monsters.

Complete agony filled Evelyn's sensitive ears, the whining cry from the little Tasmanian devil pierced her ears like nails scratching a chalkboard. Her eyes closed tightly and shook her aching head a few times. What kind of woman allows her voice to get to such pitches? What kind of woman would think that she would sound remotely attractive like that?

"I understand perfectly, my love. This misunderstanding was most definitely not your fault." Sly eyes go from shut tight to a short glare at the annoying leech, as her words of anger and jealousy spilled out of her mouth. Obviously, nothing she said was thought up before she said it.

It took a little bit of self-control to not lunge after the human. A subtle growl was holding itself deep within her chest. Every animalistic bone in Evelyn's body told her to jump out and slice that fair skinned neck of hers, but she held herself back, and settled for clenching her teeth and parting her lips ever so slightly, as a slight warning that the human would most likely overlook anyways, for now.

Despite any idiotic, annoying words the little woman said, Evelyn knew she would win this little female territorial battle. One little quick glance at the blue-eyed vampire next to her, and she remembered that she already won this competition a long time ago.

Poor Irma never even had a chance.

Another smile at her little Russian beloved. "Gordon, darling." She cooed once again as she raised her hand and her finger lightly stroked the bottom of his chin. Her little lover, and what was she to be called by him. Girlfriend was way too young of a name to be called by, but wife was so ... old, and too mature. No, she needed to let Irma know that he was under Evelyn's love spell for a long time, but not necessarily forever. After all, you have to let a girl hope, even if she won't be alive tomorrow, right? "Technically ..." Her face bent lower to meet with his, noses touching, and she squinted her eyes as she gave him a few butterfly kisses. "Fiancee est la Francaise, mon cher."

All she had to do was switch the diamond ring from her middle left finger, to her middle ring finger. If he had a ring or not, that wasn't too much of a problem.

The look on Irma's face was going to be the bigger, and much more amusing problem. Before another word could come out of the heifer's mouth, though, Evelyn decided to make another comment.

"The food here is so bland, love. Do you think we can grab a bite to eat and come back before the main event?"

And, of course, have miss little Irma follow them out of the building.
Lucky Mr. Tremaine was going to keep his sweet blood, and life, tonight, and all thanks to Irma. How sweet of her.