Wednesday at the Metro

[mods_in_space]

If New Tokyo was the glossy surface of Miranda and Siam the seedy underbelly, the Underground was the pulsing heart of the planet. A constant flow of trains, of people, of life, the Metro never slept. Sitting on one of the old benches lining the whitewashed walls, under a flat screen advertisement looping through ads for dermal implants and virtual

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[nobler_things]

Life hasn't been going so hot for ol' Spike. Deals are drying up left and right, his last fell through all together, and the money's drained down to nothing. Just a few credits for blood and bourbon and smokes. Fuel for Bessy? Well, that landed on the bottom of the list.

The Metro... Torture. All those bodies. All that warmth, trapped underground. All those heartbeats. So close.

Spike stood in the third car on the D train, hand wrapped tight around a support strap. Feet spaced apart and his coat flapping behind him. Nostrils flaring. Muscles in his jaw twitching.

Oh God. Just two more stops.

[maintain_right]

"If you're suffering from motion sickness, I find a bit of mint settles the stomach," said Fraser, holding a stick under his nose.

[nobler_things]

Spike turned, just his head, slowly in the direction of the voice.

Oh, great.

"Gonna need a bit more than mint, mate," he muttered with a nasty curl of lips, black tipped nails cutting into the handle strap above his head.

He looked pale, but then again, he always did.

[maintain_right]

"Ah." Fraser withdrew the pack, only to hold out another, this one purple. "I have berry, also."

[nobler_things]

Aside from the dramatic arch of one eyebrow, Spike's face was completely blank.

[maintain_right]

Fraser withdrew the second pack and returned the blank stare for a moment. He wasn't terribly good at conversation, and now that both his sweets had been refused, he found he didn't know what to say. "It's a pity that human vomit is little more than a forceful expulsion of waste. Some animals, like Diefenbaker here, use regurgitated food to feed their young."

[nobler_things]

"Can die a happy man, now I know that useful little tidbit," Spike muttered, eyes narrowing and his lip jutting out in a frown, "Who are you, anyway? Are you following me?"

[maintain_right]

"Benton Fraser," was the ready reply. "And not at all. Dief heard tale of a new park opening in Tifton. We're on our way now to have a look."

[nobler_things]

Spike shifted away from the mongrel. Dogs and Moroi were notorious enemies, and while he was having no problem blending in down there in the tubes, he might draw attention if he had a great bloody hellhound attached to his pant leg.

"He heard?" Spike asked, head tipping to the side curiously, "'s he a hybrid?" He'd never heard of a talking dog, but you could never be sure. Scientist were always trying to muck about in places they shouldn't.

[maintain_right]

"He is, yes," Fraser replied, a little surprised that the other man had noticed. "Half-wolf, half-canine. His name is Diefenbaker." He paused then, giving the stranger another chance to give his own name.

[zulimar_lazuli]

Zuu is hanging off the pole as if it's her best friend, or her lover. Her best friend's lover, maybe? Whichever.

Her skit barely covers her bottom, and her boots are just below her knee. It looks as if she's heading into work... but really she's just on the prowl, looking for a good time. She swears in a foreign tongue when the train lurches to a stop, bumping into the man who'd been standing beside her.

"Sorry," she mutters, tensing just a little as she gets a good sniff of what he is. Moroi, just her damn luck. But the train was crowded and this one... well, he was looking a bit domesticated for a Moroi.

[nobler_things]

Spike caught wind of her as soon as she'd stepped onto the train. He was assaulted with it. Her scent, permeating every inch of space in the car. Heavy and hot, like ripened berries and sweet musk, intoxicating and bloody infuriating.

And look at the little bitch, in her tight skirt, stretches of flawless blue on display. Oh yes, she knew exactly what she was after.

When she bumped into him, it was all Spike could do not to groan.

"No worries, luv."

[zulimar_lazuli]

"I'm sure," Zuu replies dryly, giving him a look. It's a nice public place though, and Zuu has her gun in her purse. That paired with one hell of a wicked streak...

She smiles sweetly, puling her hair back into a ponytail with the elastic that had been sitting on her wrist as she cocks her hip. Her top rides up slightly, exposing more skin as she keeps herself right in his space, holding onto the poll tightly once they start moving again.

[nobler_things]

Salivary glands prick in the back of his mouth, and he bites down hard on his tongue, the metallic taste of blood flooding into his mouth. Dry and bitter, the blood flowing through his own veins would have nothing on what she was carrying around.

Moroi had a truce with most of the alliance, each of the race registered and carefully monitored. Most got their blood through banks and charities that came engineered in labs but Angelus had thrown it all back in their faces. He'd taught William well.

"It's a wonder you're staying on your feet in those heels," he said, leaning down to get a good look at the shoes and the legs sprouting up from them, "You must have incredible... balance."

[zulimar_lazuli]

"Among other things," Zuu smiles, baring her teeth. "I can do all sorts of things in these heels," she assures him.

"Dance, run... kick," she smirks, eyes flicking down to his groin with a pointed look as she drops the k-word.

[nobler_things]

"I'll bet you can," he said, lips drawing back from his teeth, a dangerous smile to mirror hers, sharp canines glinting in the flickering lights of the train car, "And work that poll without even breaking a sweat, I'd wager."

She knew what he was, no point in hiding it.

"I've seen you about. You're the one all the mothers in the bloody star system warn their sons about. Zulimar, isn't it?"