Salah is seated on a ragged lawn chair in the center of a crowd of seated children. His leopard print hat is slanted at a jaunty angle
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Beth is standing off to the side, hidden partly under the shade of a tarp. Her tank top has left clear tanlines on her shoulders and she grins a little bit tugging at a strap and then sticking a hand in the pockets of her jean shorts.
She looks a little bit like Daisy Duke, really.
"Never heard that version of the story before."
Her voice is kind of quiet, and she clears her throat.
"Beth," he repeats. And instead of shaking, he lifts her hand and kisses the back of her knuckles. He winks at her, showing a tiny bit of fang. "My friends call me Salah."
He looks over her shoulder before looking back at Beth with another easy grin. "Is there a boyfriend or partner back there waiting to bludgeon me for assuming, or do I get to buy you lunch?"
Beth blushes, and it's almost as bright as her sunburn. She lets him hold her hand a little bit longer than necessary, and doesn't mind the fangs. You don't get very far in this new world by being prejudiced.
Plus, at heart, she's still the girl who thought Brad Pitt was hot as a vampire.
Following his glance over her back she frowns a little. She isn't quite sure how this whole bordello thing works. Is there a bouncer?
"...no?" she says. "No. Not anymore. You? Boyfriend? Partner?"
"Sorry, sorry. No, no. No boyfriend. Not anyone. No matter what rumors you might here from anyone with a tail."
"But you are in luck." He oh so casually slips an arm around Beth's shoulders as he puts his hat back on and picks up his leather jacket. "One of the parents of my little audience keeps saying I should sample her kabobs, but." He grins again to show off his fangs. "So, your mission, if you choose to accept it, is to help me discover if her boasts of 'almost like chicken' are really true."
Beth startles for a quick second when he puts his arm around her shoulder: it's been a while since someone did that as a friendly thing. The girls all make sure to touch each other - hugs and foot rubs and just common touch so that they don't only get hands that're paying on them.
She relaxes immediately, whether through good training or genuine like, she almost can't tell. Casually, she slips her arm around his waist and pretends to think on it.
Reaching up to steal his hat, she tips it like a mobster in a black and white.
"Well, I have very fond memories of fried chicken, so it'll have to be a really good fake."
"Real life isn't like the romance books told you: the ladies like the werewolves better. They ride motorcycles. Not like vampires that don't bite people." He winks. "I don't bite, even when asked. Ah ha! Here we are."
He presents Beth to a too thin but still handsome woman working behind a grill. Two dark haired children poke their heads out from under the table skirts and yell "Uncle Salah!" as they wrap themselves around his legs.
"Mrs. Jones, I am here to collect. My lovely assistant is here to determine if your boasts are true. And my boots seem to have gotten heavy. Excuse me a moment." He lets go of Beth so he can reach down and turn the two boys wrapped around his ankles upside down.
"A bat, of course! He's my sidekick." He gives the wiggling child a little shake, which causes the little boy to laugh. "Go play," he tells him as he rights the boy and puts him down. The child #2 laughs and lefts go of Salah's ankle to chase his brother.
"Thanks, Julia," he says quiet as Mrs. Jones passes him a small, closed container. He puts his free arm back around Beth's shoulders. "So? Is it all that is good and grilled?"
She looks a little bit like Daisy Duke, really.
"Never heard that version of the story before."
Her voice is kind of quiet, and she clears her throat.
"I mean, that was really good."
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Academic mode jumps track. New thought process: legs.
"--meant to change with each telling." He takes off his hat and grins. "And we have no been introduced."
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"Beth," she says. "I'm sorry, I wasn't sure if you would mind me listening."
He's cute and definitely different than the boys back home. The only stories they'd know would be famous football plays.
She likes different.
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He looks over her shoulder before looking back at Beth with another easy grin. "Is there a boyfriend or partner back there waiting to bludgeon me for assuming, or do I get to buy you lunch?"
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Plus, at heart, she's still the girl who thought Brad Pitt was hot as a vampire.
Following his glance over her back she frowns a little. She isn't quite sure how this whole bordello thing works. Is there a bouncer?
"...no?" she says. "No. Not anymore. You? Boyfriend? Partner?"
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"Sorry, sorry. No, no. No boyfriend. Not anyone. No matter what rumors you might here from anyone with a tail."
"But you are in luck." He oh so casually slips an arm around Beth's shoulders as he puts his hat back on and picks up his leather jacket. "One of the parents of my little audience keeps saying I should sample her kabobs, but." He grins again to show off his fangs. "So, your mission, if you choose to accept it, is to help me discover if her boasts of 'almost like chicken' are really true."
Reply
She relaxes immediately, whether through good training or genuine like, she almost can't tell. Casually, she slips her arm around his waist and pretends to think on it.
Reaching up to steal his hat, she tips it like a mobster in a black and white.
"Well, I have very fond memories of fried chicken, so it'll have to be a really good fake."
Those fangs are. so. hot.
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And then he's laughing.
"You know how long it's been since a lady flirted back? Come on, tall drink of water. You've just set yourself up for a standing lunch date."
Salah steers her through the stalls and tables toward kabob heaven.
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Mock-frowning, she says, "Now I'm wondering what they saw that I don't. Although, I can't say no to a lunch-date. It's such a pity to waste food."
Gasping, she says, "Are you trying to distract me with food so I don't realize you're a vampire?"
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He presents Beth to a too thin but still handsome woman working behind a grill. Two dark haired children poke their heads out from under the table skirts and yell "Uncle Salah!" as they wrap themselves around his legs.
"Mrs. Jones, I am here to collect. My lovely assistant is here to determine if your boasts are true. And my boots seem to have gotten heavy. Excuse me a moment." He lets go of Beth so he can reach down and turn the two boys wrapped around his ankles upside down.
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"Thanks so much for the food."
Tilting her head to look at the child upside down she says, "What? Is that a child or a bat?"
She isn't even going to get into the wolves on motorcycles thing because not a lot of the pack come in to the bordello.
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"Thanks, Julia," he says quiet as Mrs. Jones passes him a small, closed container. He puts his free arm back around Beth's shoulders. "So? Is it all that is good and grilled?"
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Taking a bite, she makes sure to keep her expression neutral. Her momma did not raise her to be rude about food.
"Well, I would have to say, it's a lot better than any chicken I remember."
And she's hungry.
Grinning, she lets him lead her off.
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