They'd been in London for a night already, but on their second night Vincent had planned to take Owen to a club with him. A different kind of club, in fact. He'd warned Owen not to stray while they were in there, because vampire clubs were notoriously dangerous places for mortals. He also asked Owen not to drink, so he could be clear-headed. They would observe, he said, and after a little bit of teasing, Vincent said if the atmosphere was right and he felt safe enough, he might drink from Owen at the club if there were places available to do so. He dressed in a tight polo-necked jumper, dark green in colour, over black jeans. He wore shiny black boots on his feet, with silver buckles. Not exactly typical clubbing gear, but it would do.
He'd never been here, but he'd read up on the club and knew it was called Provocative. The article he'd read in a supernaturals only magazine had listed it as a 'constant club', which meant it reinvented itself, but remained in the same location. This was so the aged vampires who'd been there once would be able to find their way back. The article had been in an old magazine, so he was fairly sure it would've been re-named and refurbished by now.
When their cabbie deposited them on the corner of Turnmill Road, they walked a little way up the street and passed a number of interesting looking people loitering around. None of them paid Vincent or Owen any mind, but the ones that did had a knowing smile on their face. There was no hostility nearby that Vincent could glean, so he kept his arm around Owen's shoulders until they arrived at cordoned-off queue. Vincent walked around it and past those people lining up, and went directly to the bouncer - who was an unexpectedly tiny blonde woman. She wasn't vampire but she wasn't human either. Vincent had no idea what she was, but was reminded of forest smells and freshwater brooks when he moved closer to her, in attempt to go through the door. She held out her lace-gloved hand, and at first Vincent thought she was stopping them, but there was a card at the end of her fingers. He took it with thanks, got a nod from her, and she let them both in. Nobody in line groaned, though Vincent received a mental sigh of resentment, as every mortal in line knew they were secondary to supernaturals.
The name of the club was emblazoned with pink neon as they entered the small, enclosed corridor inside - a black curtain covering a doorway up ahead, and stairs leading upward to a different level. Vincent couldn't take his eyes off the new name for this place. They'd stopped calling it Provocative, and chosen something bizarre and stupid, instead.
"Yummalishis?" he read, saying it loudly enough that Owen would hear. He looked at the card he'd been given, which also had the name of the club printed on it - the only word in the middle of the rectangular piece of glossy card. He flipped it over to read finely printed rules on the back. Okay, good. Pocketing it after reading, he led Owen up the stairs, hoping the upper level had remained as a viewing platform onto the downstairs dance floor below. It would help them remove from the main crowd and also observe. There was another tiny blonde woman here too, who also smelt of forests and brooks. He stared at her for a moment, wondering if it was the same woman. He decided it wasn't but only because this one was wearing a purple corset over her black leather pants, instead of dark blue like the one on the queue.
Up hear the pounding music was muffled. He had no idea how, but the hairs on his nape stood on end. There was some weird kind of magic going on here. Was this even still a vampire bar? He used his senses to see. Yes, about a third of the people in here were vampires, the rest were mortals, and as far as he could tell, only the staff were the small blonde fae-type nature creatures. Weird. Maybe they should've called it Nature Walk, instead of Yummalishis. Maybe they should've called it anything, instead of Yummalishis.
"Do you see a table?" he asked Owen, looking around.
