O.D. 7.20.2001 [1:22 p.m.]

(This is a scene with my urban-predator of a Tzimisce (childe of Constanta, actually) and a character played a while back on Charleston by Night. Alas, all the cool formatting is lost in the c&p...)

[Griffin]

13|132.239.1.232

Fri 13:09 EDT What sort of world are we living in?

Women crucified [here] in alleyways

burnt.

Men crawling [somewhere] through their own blood

screaming.

Vomiting babies [somehow] sick with plague

dying.

And meanwhile the world grinds on

oblivious.

I'll show you the end of time. I'll show you hell in a handbasket.

Not so very far from the damned alleyway where yet another corpse (...prey...) was found hung and charred, and not far at all from the homey comfy warmth of

who. are you kidding?

Get Some Ribs, the man with the eagle's eyes, and the feather etched onto one bare arm leans insolently against the brick wall, arms folded across sleek muscled chest, a cigarette - no, a toothpick - no, a needle between his teeth, watching the sheep herd past to the drumbeat they could not hear, but were helpless to resist.

The drum's name is Death.

And his name is Griffin.

[Griffin]

13|132.239.1.232

Fri 13:22 EDT The sheep bleat.

The sheep mill.

The sheep sleep.

The sheep do not see.

We are the wolf and the shepherd

the keepers and the killers

His arms uncross and his hands come to rest on the rough wall. His fingers tent and he pushes lightly off, the imperfections (of which he had none) of the brick clinging and catching at the soft matte-black fabric of his close-fitting, sleeveless shirt. A man with dark hair, a man with golden eyes, he crosses the street, distant streetlights glinting off the swiveling silver needle between his teeth.

His steps are quiet. The wind tugs playfully at the comfortably loose, low-belted slacks, also black, possibly some sort of leather, possible some other sort of skin.

There's a bum outside the Get Some Ribs, back to the wall, and he shrinks from the cold golden gaze of the predator.

Griffin doesn't even bother to notice him. He opens the door to the small restaurant, pale and dark and golden all at once, and he looks so very /wrong/ against the warm lights, so very foreign against the checkered tablecloths.

He looks like a lion at the wildebeest watering-hole.

He looks like a panther creeping at the edge of the deer clearing.

[Zori Augustus]

593|64.229.78.40

Fri 13:26 EDT *With Griffin entering the diner, he is just another customer on the street walking in. The staff continue their duties, food is order at the counter and by waitresses/waiters, and Bernhard works away tending to the needs of those that seek it, service, along with the staff. Zori in the kitchen with the cooking staff. No host to seat people for his is a eat in or take out diner. Sure, the odd look here and there to Griffin with his ever so pressing presence he seems to flare out to others*

[Griffin]

13|132.239.1.231

Fri 13:33 EDT Symmetry;

he is a beautiful, darkly beautiful thing, so fine and chiseled and flawless he makes those around him seem roughened, baser, hunks of coal beside a diamond. And like that diamond, there is nothing boyish, nothing soft, nothing effeminate about his beauty.

He draws a breath and crosses to the counter. His hand slides into his pocket and when he removes it, there's a business card caught between two fingers. He slides it onto the countertop.

"Is the owner or manager in?"

[Zori Augustus]

593|64.229.78.40

Fri 13:34 EDT *Counter person looks up to Griffin, wondering really what a nice looking man is doing here in NC. Potential rape victum in the making this one, but says nothing. Looks at the card and says,* Who may I say is asking?

[Griffin]

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Fri 13:39 EDT The name on the card is Matthew Bourne. It doesn't fit him, but then, parents have named their children worse. The logo tells little: an almost-closed ring in deep, livid red; another semicircle in black around it, opened the opposite way.

Beneath the logo, Needlez. The number listed seems to be an out-of-state-based cell phone; the address of Needlez is in Los Angeles.

He taps lightly on the card, though his eyes don't leave the cashier. "Matthew Bourne," he replies. Assuming the manager was male, he adds courteously, "If he's busy, I can come back later."

[Zori Augustus]

593|64.229.78.40

Fri 13:44 EDT *Takes up the card and just smiles to the pressing man at the counter. He makes his way to the kitchen. Of course Bernhard is always near, he keeps an eye on the man, Matt, well tending to the staff and customers*

[Zori Augustus]

593|64.229.78.40

Fri 13:47 EDT *Taking the card and talking briefly to the counter helper, Norm, she thanks him and enters the diner on the side of the counter where customers stand* Mr. Bourne, is it? *Looking at the card then to him* May I help you?

[Griffin]

13|132.239.1.231

Fri 13:49 EDT There will be no trouble for Bernhard today. Griffin waits patiently at the counter, lifting one of the menus from its stack and leafing through it to pass the time.

He carries his presence in his eyes. With them downcast, he is not nearly as alien. Still unapproachably beautiful, still possessing that invisible bone called Pride that keeps the neck straight, but not so...what's the word?

Unnerving.

He wears a watch on his wrist: a large, brushed-silver finished piece with a rotating timer dial, heavy and solid, and it ticks softly until Zori comes into view. And the golden eyes, eagle eyes that had no place on a man, rise to meet hers. He smiles disarmingly, extending a hand. "Yes, I was hoping you could, Ms...?"

[Zori Augustus]

593|64.229.78.40

Fri 13:51 EDT *Blinks and looks at him well shaking his hand* Zori Augustus is my name. I own and run this diner. How can I help you Sir? *Right, a NC Rib diner, is what interest to such a man as him, she wonders? Maybe he is looking for someone, who knows*

[Griffin]

13|132.239.1.231

Fri 13:56 EDT The toothpick (which was really a large silvery needle) caught between his teeth twirls again. He removes it then, threading it through a belt-loop on his pants for safekeeping as a seamstress might.

His grip is firm, his hand cool without being clammy. Releasing her, "I'm looking for a good investment, actually." His eyes flicker to the card she holds, and he explains, "Needlez is a tattoo parlor in Los Angeles, but inking is not by far my only interest. As I understand, Get Some Ribs has been quite successful since its opening. Have you considered going public and selling stock, or perhaps setting up a franchise?"

[Zori Augustus]

593|64.229.78.40

Fri 14:00 EDT *After studing him abit, she takes her hand back well placing the card in her jean's pocket. Looking up at the man with her professional attitude of course fully intacted. Blinks at his business tactic of offerings of franchising* Um, well....no I haven't. We are a family run business, Mr. Bourne. Our family is generations back. I don't think going franchise would be a good idea for us, and if I did, not to blow you off or that, I do have the means to do such a thing myself, franchise out that is.

[Zori Augustus]

593|64.229.78.40

Fri 14:02 EDT *Is she lying? Not at all. She has the resources and contacts to do such a thing. Franchising is not one she wishes unless it is to a family member themselves. That was long ago established by her family back home*

[Griffin]

13|132.239.1.232

Fri 14:04 EDT He nods as though he expected as much. "I didn't think you would," he says, with a self-deprecating smile. "Well..." A moment of thought, as he drums his fingers on the countertop, "I don't suppose you'd be interested in an investor, either. Perhaps I'll consider bringing Needlez over from the West Coast.

"May I ask a question, Ms. Augustus?"

[Zori Augustus]

593|64.229.78.40

Fri 14:08 EDT *Bernhard of course looks on with a smirk forming on his lips. He knows that Zori knows the business all to well, her Government job sure is just another benefit to the means of many things. He relaxes abit, knowing that Zori is no stupid woman, cousin of his, and tends to the staff once again to make sure service is fully pleasing to the customers.

Zori nods to Mr. Bourne and smiles* Tattooing and GSRs don't really seem to go hand in hand Mr. Bourne. Your offer is sweet and I am pleased you thought of my business for such ventures. Unfortunately, the name Get Some Ribs is just strongly family oriented, and we wish it to stay that way. Sure, ask away, your question that is. *Nods to him with a warm smile. She is a calm, pleasent one to be around never mind her looks that are luring. Zori sees herself as a business woman, not a means of meat product for others*

[Griffin]

13|132.239.1.232

Fri 14:12 EDT Griffin laughs, a friendly sound. Then again, they say crocodiles cry, too. "No, no, I wouldn't dream of setting up a tattoo parlor in a corner of you diner. I am looking for a suitable place, however, which leads me to my question - why North Charleston for Get Some Ribs? It would seem downtown Charleston, or perhaps even the Harbor, would be more suited to a family-oriented diner like this."

[Zori Augustus]

593|64.229.78.40

Fri 14:16 EDT *She does think of something, but waits for Mr. Bourne to ask his question. Offers him a seat at one of the free tables nearest to them in the diner so they dont continue to block the counter where people order food for take out. As she sits down at the table, says*

Because North Chuck was and is in need of more respectable establishments. It helps bring hope to those living here in this place that is doomed by their own city council, Mr. Bourne. I hire people that live in this area. Allowing them to save money for college or university, allowing a financial means for mothers that need to feed hungry babes after their men skipped out on them, and showing some sort of exsample that a well respected business can be established in North Chuck. We've had our trails mind you with the riots before and all...but we are still here.

[Griffin]

13|132.239.1.232

Fri 14:23 EDT He takes the seat she offers, leaning back, ankle over knee, arms loosely folded. His dark clothes offsets his porcelain complexion, which in turn brings out the striking golden eyes which hold such a fierce intelligence within. On one arm, the only betrayal of his fondness for needles and skin art: the white feather ablaze in flames of black and green and blue.

The predator sits with the one he would consider prey, listening without patronizing, but if this was the Kingdom of the Lord then he'll be damned...

"If it is not too assuming of me," he says softly, "you are a brave woman, Ms. Augustus."

[Zori Augustus]

593|64.229.78.40

Fri 14:28 EDT *Smiles at him with a chuckle* So I am told Mr. Bourne. If we don't take the risks, we never know what is really in our souls and hears now do we. I am doing what I love to do, that is what matters to me. I like helping out. I love it when the hostels and the chruches welcome each morning the food we offer them from the left overs that were not sold. Fresh food daily here at GSRs. Why through it out? Waste. We waste enough in this world now don't we. *Smiles* I did help a Boxer up the street with his community work once. We do continue to send him coupons for those that need it. Coupons for GSRs free dinner. If you set up an establishment in North Chuck, I am sure we could work out some sort of promotion with one another? It'll help you get started too.

[Griffin]

13|132.239.1.232

Fri 14:33 EDT "I will certainly keep that in mind," he promises, returning her smile warmly. Then, leaning forward as though preparing to go, "Well, I've wasted enough of your time. May I have your business card? The number on mine might soon be outdated."

[Zori Augustus]

593|64.229.78.40

Fri 14:34 EDT *Takes out the card from her pocket as she gets up and goes to the counter to grab up a business card. Offers it to him* If this card is no good then why hand them out? *Looks at him*

[Griffin]

13|132.239.1.232

Fri 14:38 EDT "It's still good. For a while, at least." He slides the card toward himself, lifts it from the tabletop, and then tucks it into his wallet. After a moment's thought, he takes out a few bills and adds by means of explanation, "On second thought, I think I'll have an order of ribs, take-out, actually."

Rising, money in one hand, he extends the other. "It was a pleasure, Ms. Augustus. I'll call you if I do set up a business in the area."

[Zori Augustus]

593|64.229.78.40

Fri 14:42 EDT *Smile to him well telling Norm to ready some ribs to go* I look forward to it Mr. Bourne. I hope that you do try and set up an establishment in North Chuck. Examples are always needed. I think enough efforts are made, North Chuck can become a decent place for its residences *Nods to him* Of course you might think that highly impossible, but as said, there is always hope in this world is there not? *Again tucks his business card into her jean pocket*

[Zori Augustus]

593|64.229.78.40

Fri 14:43 EDT *Norm tells the staff in the kitchen to ready one hot juicy dinner of ribs to go*

[Griffin]

13|132.239.1.232

Fri 14:46 EDT "Hope?" The final evil in Pandora's box. The evil that crushes men's souls. "Always."

Releasing her hand, he brushes by the counter and picks up his order. Nodding to her before he exits, he makes his farewells, "Goodnight, Ms. Augustus. And good luck with Get Some Ribs."

He leaves, the vision in black and pale with an incongruous bag of ribs in his hand (he won't eat them; he can't, after all...but his hawks would feast tonight), and the door swings closed after him.