(Untitled)

[steamologist]

WHO: steamologist and notquiteidol.
WHERE: The Pound & Pence pub.
WHEN: Saturday night.
WARNINGS: Foul-mouthed psychics and stuff.
SUMMARY: Going for a drink.
FORMAT: Quicklog.

Comments

[notquiteidol]

[He finds the pub with ease, pushing open the door with one hand while finishing a cigarette with the other. Taking a quick look around the room, he finds K.K. immediately, dropping down into the chair beside it without even a greeting.]

[Where he managed to scrounge up a leather duster and boots in the space of a few days is probably a good question.]

What're we drinking?

[steamologist]

[ She glances his way, recognizes him, and doesn't say hello herself either. Nice English folks. Instead, she glances at her glass, maybe vaguely annoyed that she has to try and remember what it's in it. Ah. ]

London Porter. [ A pause, then K.K. eyes him a second. With mild dryness: ] Are you really a vampire, then? You don't look like much of one. Except for the coat maybe.

[notquiteidol]

[The answer earns her an appreciative look and he orders the same. It quickly turns into something like annoyance. His expression doesn't change, but his features shift and he grins, exposing his teeth. No, maybe not your typical vampire, but it's enough to make the bartender look about ready to shit himself when he brings over Spike's drink.]

Look like enough of one now?

[steamologist]

[ She seems surprised for a half-second -- eyes widening, tension in the shoulders just a bit -- but she's K.K., and she's crazy, so it doesn't seem to actually scare her all that much. At length, she lets her posture relax, and she answers a touch wryly: ]

Nice teeth. All the better to bite you with, I suppose.