All that Jazz. The name was up in lights, with outlines of jazz musicians dancing around the lettering. The sign done in deep blue neon. Ramsey looked up at the club as he stepped from the limo, and a smile curled his lips. Finally finished...
After the ball the other night, Ramsey had left, feeling relief flood him as he started to feel normal again. It had unnerved him how human he'd felt while inside. He much prefered being what he'd been for the last 300 years.
Pushing his way into the club, he moved through the throng of guests that already were enjoying the live band playing up on stage. Waiters and waitresses moved through the tables and chairs. The couches and booths. Alcoves here and there. Or sat at the bar, drinking to forget, or drinking just for fun as they listened. Heading towards the stairs behind the bar, he accepted a file from his manager, as he started up, listening to the news of the night, and after a moment, disapearing into the office itself.
Memos were read. Emails were responded to. Buisness at hand was taken care of before Ramsey finally appeared again, and decended the stairs. The scotsman took a seat, settling into one of the plush couches near the bar, and pulled a cigar from the pocket of his button up shirt. Lighter was lit, and the flame touched to tobacco, smoke filling the air over him.
Jazz...blues...and a good cigar. What better way to spend an evening?
Jazz was a step up from the Blues bar he had gone to with Cullen and Hades a few days past for Nathaniel. His Harley Heritage Softtail was racking up the mileage between his dwelling in the Garden District and downtown, but he needed a drink and some company. Jazz bars were usually classy places of business, and Nate arrived, parking his bike in a place designated for motorcycles across the street from All That Jazz.
It looked like a nice establishment, and the Israeli wolf needed a break from his hard work in the shop. He entered the foyer, and was shown his way to the bar by a hostess. The need for showing his identification to the bouncer was unnecessary, but he did so anyway, and was allowed in. The air was a mix of smoke, humans, some lycans, and something else. His sensitive nose picked up on the aroma of undead too, but Nate ignored it. He had no business with vampires.
Yet, little did he know was the person that owned and operated this nice establishment was Ramsey, the personable Scot that he had met at the masquerade ball. He found the man interesting, even though he didn't know what he was because of the muting of his powers by someone or something. He suspected it was the building because once he was out of it, he saw his beast again.
He flashed his platinum Mastercard to the barkeep, in order to keep the Corona with lime coming. As he waited for authorization of his card, Nathaniel lit up a clove scented Djarum Black cigarette. He'd recently started smoking them, since it was harder to wait for a shipment of Israeli Noblesse cigarettes. All the while, jazz music played, and he took a pull of his smoke, his blonde head bobbing slowly to the beat of the music.
Little did he know he was being watched by someone. No, he was very much into his smoke and the non-depressing music. What a difference from blues. That was some really very sad music, that didn't do very much for his mood that night at Bourbon Street Blues Bar and Nightclub with the rats, Theo and Alex. But that was all in the past. Just like a lot of things troubling him lately. He just let himself flow for the evening, letting the music and the drinks numb him some.
He blew a smoke ring, smiled to a lady wanting to know the time, and passed a bowl of peanuts a patron's way, being kind. But he couldn't shake the feeling he was being observed. Nathaniel's blue-green gaze studied the crowd of people there, face by face but didn't recognize anyone in particular. Oh well. He went back to what he had been doing, nursing his second Corona with lime, once he set the first empty down on the bar. Nate supposed he had an admirer from afar, who would sooner or later make themselves known to him. He had all night, after all.
Indeed the young, golden wolf was being watched. Ramsey sat back in his seat, Cigar moving to his lips, and smoke rising around him. Chocolate brown hues had been watching the band, as slender fingers tapped lightly on his leg. The smooth, more slow and romantic sounds of tonight's band, was one he particularly enjoyed. Makeing a note for himself to make sure they were booked again. Slow and smooth, like aged whiskey, it was how he prefered his music, and what was usually playing when he was home. The blues bars, they were alright at times. But there was just something relaxing about this kind of jazz...that spoke to Ramsey's heart, and made him forget the things that still hurt his heart.
It wasn't right away though that he started to watch the wolf. He'd seen him walk in, and that golden hair had caught his attention. Catching one of the waitresses as she passed, he'd spoken softly to her, and sent her on her way with a light pat to her bum. And so it would be not even ten minutes later, as he continued to watch, that the waitress spoke quietly to the bartender, who set a dirty martini on a napkin infront of Nathaniel, and spoke quietly to him.
"Compliments of the owner, Sir.."
Giving the wolf a smile, he went back to serving drinks to the others. Obviously not telling who exactly the owner was. Not yet anyway.
Nathaniel Roshan had been infected with lycanthropy at the tender age of 21, but he was actually 26 years of age, quite successful with an MBA from UCLA, and owner of three businesses. He dressed well, smoked well, worked well and played well. Just ask anyone. Slowly, he was nursing the last of the second bottle of Corona...thinking about things, and enjoying the clove cigarrette between his fingers.
The music was soothing to his nerves, a balm for the beast within. Not some of the head banging shit he normally listened to. He was sitting on the comforts of a leather bar stool when a hostess came over to him with a dirty martini. "Compliments of the owner, Sir." she stated. Before Nate could ask who the owner was, she was gone like vapor. "Shit." He liked to know who bought his drinks, but he wasn't one to refuse one, especially if it was made to perfection.
Tucking his pale gloss back over his ears, the martini glass was brought to the sensual line of his lips, and he tasted the alcohol mixed with olive nectar. Olives were a common thing in Haifa, Israel, where Nathaniel was born and raised, as were dates. So he was no stranger to the taste. What puzzled him though was how did the owner know that he drank dirty martinis anyway?
Again, his blue-green depths studied the crowd, feeling as though he were on display. Nathaniel would have to find this owner, and thank him for the drink which had been perfectly made. His first dirty martini in New Orleans that had been made correctly. Placing the butt of his Djarum in the ashtray, he extinguished the smoke and went looking for the owner of All That Jazz.
Should Nate ask another of the wait staff, or even one of the security detail, they would direct him to the couch, tucked back into the alcove near the bar, where Ramsey sat, smokeing his cigar. Finally it was set aside, and he sat back .Arms stretched out along the back of the couch, fingers still tapping. legs crossed at the knees. Foot moving to the music as well.
He watched Nathaniels movements, eye's intent. Their encounter the other night had gone horribly wrong. So the drink was in essence a peace offering, should he figure out it was Ramsey that sent it. As he expected that nate would soon end up infront of him, He shifted and adjusted his shirt, smoothed back his hair. why? Well it never hurt to look your best. Even when the person you were trying to attract hated your kind.
Would Nathaniel find him? Only time would tell. But Ramsey sure as hell hoped so....
Spotting one of the bouncers at the door, Nathaniel paused there to inquire about who owned this establishment. He would then be directed to ask a young lady in a white collared shirt, black slacks, and an apron. Well he could have asked a server the first damned time. She told him where the manager was though, and Nate made his way around the bar, clad in a white poet shirt, and leather britches, motorcycle boots on his feet.
Jaw drop. His tranquil blue-green eyes widening, when he realized who the owner of All That Jazz actually was. Ramsey. When the vampire had shown up at Seven Sins the other night, he'd been overcompensated, working well into the midnight hour to keep his mind off his troubles since coming to this God-forsaken place. What he wouldn't do for a trip to sunny southern Cali. But the Seven Sins BDSM Parlor was doing fine in L.A.
Nathaniel wished that a hole in the floor would open up and swallow him whole as he approached Ramsey, who was in fact, primping himself on the sofa, just as booted heels came to a halt. "Good evening Ramsey, and my thanks for the martini. I found it enjoyable," he said curtly, but civilly. What was up with this man? Hadn't he already told him that he disliked vampires? His wolfish gaze was felt staring him over like a piece of meat, and Nathaniel politely sat on the end of the sofa, beside him but not directly next to him. "What do you want from me, Ramsey?" he queried, expecting a response.
He'd settled back into his relaxed pose by the time Nate stopped infront of him, and looked up at the blond man quietly. "You're very welcome...I made a stab in the dark...seeing as you are from Israel...I took a shot thinking you might like Martinis...I'm glad you enjoyed it..Consider it a peace offering of sorts.." He managed to keep the surprise off his face when Nathaniel sat down next to him on the couch. Making sure to keep his distance, but still...he sat next to him. Ramsey let his gaze move to the stage, the music keeping him relaxed, and he thought about the question at hand.
What did he want from him? Hell Ramsey wasn't even sure of that himself. Finally that thick brogue broke free of sensual lips and he spoke quietly, only loud enough that Nate might hear him. "....Honestly, I don't know. The fact that you so much dislike vampires makes me want to show you I'm not like the others you've met...while at the same time, I don't want to push you. " Giving a shrug, he turned to look at the younger man. "....I want to be your friend...Don't ask me why caus ei'm not sure i really know myself....but it's true all the same. "
