Charlie parked his car outside the club, it was the motorcycles that caught his attention. Unlike the Lily, this time he did want to blend in at least a little bit. This time he was looking to get a bite to eat before haven hunting, it had been a long drive and he didn't want to go too long without sustenance.
After getting out, he walked inside and sat at bar waiting for the bartender to finish serving the others.
Looking around, Charlie does not sense the Predator's Taint from anyone in the bar. Apparently he is the only vampire present at the moment, unless one or more is hiding its nature.
The bartender comes over within a minute or so of Charlie sitting down.
"Just a Labatt Blue for right now." he says. While he waits he scans the bar for possible candidates tonight that come off as non-threatening.
Hm, this look for people who can sense me who I can't sense complicates things. I wonder just how far they've stretched out over the city. I suppose it'd be too much to ask them to where a "Hi my name is" name tag.
As Charlie looks around for potential prey, he is careful not to make eye contact with any biker types bigger than him. The last thing he wants is for someone to get the wrong impression that he wants to start something.
It's not particularly crowded tonight. Relatively few people are by themselves - most are clustered in groups of four or more - and most are male. There are a couple obvious exceptions - a pair of past-their-prime hookers at the far end of the bar being the most obvious ones. One of the hookers is talking to a guy in Harley leathers and a long, black ponytail.
Charlie hands the bartender the money he owes plus tip and then looks over the groups mostly populated by men and looks at the prostitutes.
Ugh, this is what I get for going to the Lily first and looking at all the beautiful people before coming here.
He leaves the bar and walks over to the prostitute not talking to the biker with the ponytail and says, "Don't you hate it when think you're going to a girls night out and then it turns into a night of you being the wing man while your pals are mackin on strangers?"
The woman looks Charlie over. "Eh, it's fine. We help each other out. This guy, Stacy's more his type."
The woman is a bleach-blonde with brown roots. She has that weathered, of-indeterminate-age look of someone who has had a hard life, probably consisting of heaping shares of abuse, poverty and substance use. She could be in her late 20s, maybe as old as late 30s, though Charlie's immediate guess is more to the low range with a lot of weathering. Compared to her rail-think companion, the woman talking to the biker, this woman has some weight on her. Not obese, but more than a few extra pounds, and all of it soft, with no muscle tone. She also has a bust strongly suggestive of artificial enhancement. Her makeup doesn't hide a weariness in her eyes, and the overly-revealing clothing she's wearing doesn't do her any favors, despite it showing off her enhancements to good effect.
"You're not one of the regulars," she says to Charlie after checking him out. "What brings you here tonight?" She tries for a playful smile, but it comes off more as desperate.
Charlie looks over his new companion, the desperation in her voice matched with the worn out look she's tried to conceal with makeup makes it hard, but he manages to force a smile.
"You could say I'm new in town. Just got here after a long drive so I'm pretty exhausted. My name is Charlie, what's yours?" he asks, in not as playful a manner as she asks but enough to where he doesn't sound too cold.
"Well Cindy I wouldn't say that. I could use some company, but what do you say we find a place more private?" Charlie asks, hoping there's a secluded enough area close by where anyone can interrupt him. "You know this place better than I do, can you think of a spot?"
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