Times were quiet. Blessedly so, in the wake of the Longest Night and the New Year's Court. Dressed in black slacks and a white poofy sweater, the Sheriff of Sacramento was spending the time in a corner booth, swizzling a Cosmopolitan with a swizzle stick as she looked out to the jazz quartet playing Miles Davis at the Shady Lady Saloon downtown. All was calm. All was bright. A regular haunt of classier Kindred (and occasionally of poachers, it seemed), it had become a regular spot of Lina Moretti's.
That others hadn't come yet was good by her. It meant there was peace. No Beast to contend with, only the murmur of conversation surrounding the smooth saxophone and exciting trumpet.
A waiter came by to see if she was all right. She flashed him a smile and nodded, and he moved along. Phone out. Onto the BBC. Check the news, check e-mail, see where everything is at.
Not a bad way to spend a night out, particularly when she fully intended on eating someone a little...