Marcelo, the over confidant little were that thought he could charm the panties off of her, when all she truly wanted out of the bronze boy was his blood. There was something about that blood, a magic beyond being a mangy mutt that seemed to appeal to her. She had drained him dry that night, not wasting an ounce of that delicious brew that lingered within his veins, this much she was sure. Why bother taking a sip when you can devour the whole thing? The man was deceptively young, even with her own immortality, he was far more youthful than even her. The vampire illusionist could remember that very quality, that his love for himself far exuded anything else. He was an easy prize then, and yet, despite craving that vital liquid that so coursed through his living body, she is apprehensive. You see... Marcelo may have been the same hormone stung mutt, but Petra had been changed. Altered in some irrevocable way. Those thoughts of remorse and regret came rushing to work against her.

That woman had been the cause of many deaths and she paid them little mind... then.. but now.. their faces seemed to swim within her head. Haunting memories of the horrors she had committed. Most people when drained a near ounce of their life did not seek out their attacker. What a peculiar man, foolish and yet.... Interesting enough not to simply cast him away... For but a moment, they simply just looked at one another as that recognition soon grips its claws within her.. The jackal sliding smoothly closer, enticing her with that spiced scent of his blood. Yet, it was his words that caused the peculiar woman to tip her head slightly to the right, those eerie teal eyes flicking over him in a quick over all assessment. She rose a brow at him slightly as if in kittenish curiousity at his offended statement even though he hardly displayed the signs of someone offended. "Do you thank your steak when you finish devouring it?" She poised back at him, her body shifting to face her body towards the youthful appearing male.

How that were seemed to ramp up the charisma he so easily exudes. That charming demeanor most likely an easy lure to capture the interest of easy women. But Petra was no ordinary creature. Her gaze soon lowers toward his neck as if, emphasizing that very point. "Let's just say, you may need to try a little harder... Marcelo. There are girls that you dabble with and then there are women.." How that bloodlust made those frenzied nights nothing short of a blur.. While there were aspects she may have remembered, it was hardly enough to trigger the memory of a name.. In truth, he was unlikely he offered it in the first place, the illusionist so rarely asked. Petra seemed keen to ignore his very request of her buying him a drink.. Did the man possess a death wish? Again?

The woman so hardly touched her drink, her thirst was for what lay in the depths of a vein and not in a sad little glass. She tapped a finger upon it, her nail clinking against the hard surface as a rather duplicitous expression crept upon his features. It was one that appeared to mirror his inner animal. His response is lowered as if he possessed a secret. Yet.... He offers her nothing about that magic within his veins that maintained his youth. She offered a barely there, dark smile, leaning into him slightly, offering those whispered words back. "Magic." She formed those words as if reminiscing in his very taste. "I smell it in your blood, just as I could probably... taste it." She pulled back easily, despite the temptation lingering within his heartbeat she seemed terribly focused on.

A small coquettish grin drew upon her lips as she brought that alcoholic, barely touched drink to her lips drawing in a sip. It was his question that has her head tipping curiously to the side. No one had ever asked... that. The woman so short on friends she could barely count them on one hand. What an unusual feeling to have someone ask her what she had been up to. "You wouldn't be trying to get close to steal your revenge on me, would you?" She questioned, placing her hand on her lap after placing that glass back upon the bar countertop. "Because you should know that will not work on me." She was far better at playing that deceptive game than even a mischievous jackal. Thoughts of just how she could accomplish like that began to stir within her calculating mine, like a spider constructing her web.

"mmmm, but I suppose if you really wish to chat... buy the next round and then we will see if you have earned your drink..." She replied almost sweetly, playing a role she was never destined to play. With a blink, the scorpion was gone. "Quid pro quo." She said, willing to partake in a little game of sorts. But... she had no intention of starting first. "Riddle me this... if I were to drink you dry again.. would you die and come back.. or do you still feel everything when your body remains...so vulnerable and defenseless?" Perhaps he was lucky she had no desire to attempt it again... that woman's pesky humanity seemed to be worn heavily by guilt... regardless, it hardly stopped her from wanting to take a bite... A woman had to eat and she could really use the practice of not accidently murdering everyone she took a bite out of. Who better than... a jackal that could not be killed?

petra ambrose