Vitani was relatively used to leaving empty-handed from this quaint little lounge bar, the sounds of soft jazz playing in the background just loud enough to give The Voodoo Room an ambience that suited the more refined tastes of the fae woman compared to those lesser bars that would rather blare loud bass and hip-hop that she wasn't quite a fan of. Born into the lifestyle that she was, mother and father dearest having been very much well off enough that they were among the wealthiest families and individuals and then some, it was only natural and even expected that she might appear rather content and relaxed, as though this were just a common place for her as much the bar lounge in her mansion â€" which, perhaps to some extent, was true. It was one of the few bars that were up to the woman's standards, Vitani expecting nothing less than perfection which was so unfortunately difficult to find in the world, Sacrosanct being no exception to the many years that she's already weathered. The only place that she was ever able to get such consistent service was within those stark white walls so very much void of anything that might allow a glimpse into her past that the fae woman had become a devilish expert in concealing. It was not that testing though, considering that she valued so little of the so-called sentimental things like family portraits or family heirlooms. Did this mean that she was a challenging creature to piece together? For most, yes. And yet, it wasn't what one might consider impossible. Ah, but she so did enjoy making things as absolutely impossible for her observers as she could, wanting to always keep them guessing. Ah, she truly should have thought to pursue a career in acting what with how easy it was for her to wear whichever persona she considered to best fit the evening at hand, or any moment really. Alas, that the woman had never had to work a day in her considerably short life â€" as far as fae were known for living â€" and she certainly wasn't about to start now.

Sitting there with her wine glass on the chic ceramic coaster before her, Vitani was more than content to let the men gawk like fools as they drank in her womanly frame like parched travelers having made their way to precious water after days wandering desert sands. There was no shame as she would flash a smile at one while tossing a wink at another entirely, hardly tiring of how she could bring the more masculine sex that prided themselves in how many women they've slept with as though numbers meant anything or proved that they knew just what to do to please a woman, how many pounds of steel they could bench-press in some silly show of strength, or how blessed with their own handsome features they were, daring to think they were only the best of the best, the pick of the litter, the cream of the croup to the point of bickering quietly among one another as their chosen alcohols began to wear away on what might have been inhibitions or insecurities. She would take great amusement in watching as they would argue quietly amongst themselves on who might get the opportunity to ask for her name and number, if maybe she might want to come home with them for the night. They may be the wolves in this den, but she was more than just a piece of meat driving that hunger in each and every one of them who might desire her to even greater depths. Heavens no, she was something else entirely. She was a mountain cat, her grace captivating as she allowed the city to see her only when she wanted it to and not a moment sooner, capable of disappearing as quickly as she came if she so desired to, like she had been nothing but a ghost through the trees. That was why they were called ghost cats after all, was it not? They were known for their stealth, their grace... and their lethal potential if the moment called for such things. Yet, that was hardly what the fae woman was after tonight. No, tonight she was hunting as she walked with nothing but pure confidence across that hardwood floor only to settle into a high seat at the polished bar, one slender leg crossing over the other with all the poise of that very wildcat that hid beneath those pretty pale green eyes and sugar-sweet smile.

Lifting the delicate glass to her lips, she takes another drink of her wine, savoring it as she allows for the scene to unfold around her, hardly turning her gaze from the array of bottles decorating the shelves even as the door opens, and the murmurs seem to falter ever so slightly with the presence of someone new, their footsteps suggesting that they were making their way through the tables and towards the bar. It does not take long for the presence to appear beside her, though she does not quite take interest in the man, seeming to be contemplating the delicious contents of her glass when in all actuality that was not the case. Instead, it is the scent of the man that she notices, registering almost immediately within her mind. Dark hunter. Goodness knows Vitani has been surrounding herself with such men as of late, though she was certainly not complaining. They proved to be strong men, and very much handsome creatures that she certainly took fickle interest in. Well, save for one of them, but he had been hired for other reasons she saw no need to justify to anyone, not even her darling Braxton. One might think it almost startling how she seemed rather drawn to such beings, the very race intended to keep the delicate balance that the fae woman hardly regarded with neither care nor loathing. Who lives and who dies was not any concern of her own, simply for the fact that she did not care what happened to those of this bustling city. Murders, rapes, things of the heinous sort were hardly a matter that her thoughts meandered to, the fae holding a sheer disregard for anyone or anything that did not hold any interest or potential for her. After all, was it not Vitani who sought only to further her own already seemingly endless wealth? Was it not Vitani that desired only to maintain her high status in the world of monetary gain and power? If she wanted something less than legal done, she could certainly have a... dear companion of hers seek out some lowlife to do whatever it was that she so pleased. That was where the glory of wealth could prove to be of more use than to buy fleeting fancies. Besides, there was certainly no way in this world or the next that she would even fathom the idea of getting her perfectly manicured and soft hands with such ghastly deeds. And so, as far as laws were concerned, Vitani was perfectly innocent. Would that change, though? Who knows...

Only when those smooth, deep tenor tones of them man beside her are spoken to the bartender does Vitani shift pale period eyes shift in his direction, setting down that wine glass once more. He was looking for someone, was he? Cool, calculating gaze studies the photo for a moment, wondering if perhaps this woman might be of some interest â€" she certainly was to this man â€" though her attentions are soon moved the man. And goodness, she was far from disappointed with what she saw. She studies him just as she does any man â€" or woman, though they held little to no interest for Vitani hardly ever if at all â€" and finds a coy smile curling upon blush lips. He was certainly a well-built man with broad shoulders that she was more than capable of appreciating. He was well-dressed, a sharp looking individual that has her wondering just what his value might amount to. But, it was the aura that he held about she found intriguing. Most dark hunters seemed to have that sense of authority about them, but this handsome man was different. In perhaps the most delicious of ways that has the vixen in the fae woman eager to learn more about the man. Thick lashes dressed perfectly in black blink lightly over those pale eyes of hers as she shifts in her seat to face him more, placing a hand under her chin as her elbow props against the bar, that other slender hand resting over her leg neatly folded over the other."Working a little late this evening, are we?", she purrs to the man then, that slight yet coy smile still lingering there upon her refined features."You have expensive taste in liquor. What do they call you, handsome?", she remarks casually, her voice like smooth as silk and honey as pale peridot eyes unabashedly admire him, her smile turning coquettish, noting the way his jacket fit him near perfectly as though it might be tailor-made for his strong build, the fabric looking well worth a pretty penny and only intriguing the fae femme all the more, pale greens finally flickering up to meet the man's as she waits curiously to see how he might react, moving her figurative chess piece on the board of a game she so invites him to.