He leaned against the cash register and watched the couple who moved to the shadows in the corner of the room. He tried to look away from the thin slice of razor cut against the willing participant's wrist, but could not. He parted his lips slightly and ran his tongue along his bottom lip, keeping his eyes on the blood.
“Hey, bartender!”
Startled and annoyed, he turned to the young man who interrupted his reverie.
What do you want, you damned fool?
That's what he ached to say. But he knew this job required a semblance of polite customer service, so he kept this thought to himself. He leaned forward and waited.
“Two Bloody Vampires,” the young man said, and put money on the bar.
As he prepared the drinks, the bartender knew he would not return tomorrow. While always working the late shifts at similarly themed bars across the country suited his nocturnal lifestyle, he never stayed too long in one place. Recently, though, he found himself thinking more about returning to his country. It was familiar and easy there. Also, while the other members of his family had allowed him to travel abroad and sample life in another culture, he knew that being away for much longer would not please them.
He placed the drinks in front of the young man and watched him take the hand of the girl seated at the next stool and suck her bloodied thumb before they clinked glasses in a toast.
He shook his head and looked at the others, many of whom were drunk on alcohol and fantasy.
Ridiculous, this business of playing games of dress up and spending weekends pretending to be doing something considered erotic and mysterious.
He laughed.
I wish I had that luxury.
He nodded to the people who called to him and requested drinks, and went to fill their orders.
Though he was centuries older than his regular clientele, spending time with them had been such fun. It only remained to decide whom he would kill before he flew home to the nest forever.
After all, he was thirsty too.
