Samantha Cassidy
Samantha had told Dorian that she was going to work. It had been an outright lie, of course. After all, not only was she not going to work at all, but she was also pretty sure that she no longer had a job at all. She hadn't spoken to Nadya in weeks. Even before everything that had happened recently, she hadn't been to the burlesque in more time than she could remember. Even if she could, she was positive that she wouldn't have ended up at the burlesque. No. No, that was the last place she wanted to be. Around anything that reminded her of Aiden was the last place she wanted to be.
No, instead she'd ended up just as she had for the past several nights when she had been "at work". She'd wander the streets for hours until she found a bar that called her and she would lose herself in alcohol and the emotions of others. Her own emotions couldn't be trusted. Her own emotions led her down that dark path that had her falling apart. Samantha was so tired of falling apart. Even though she deserved it, the very least she could do was try to pull herself together. Troy had been right. Aiden wouldn't have wanted her to fall apart and blame herself.
Though, she wasn't sure that Aiden would have liked her spending every evening in a bar, either.
A technicality, really.
The VooDoo Room was just the latest in a string of places that the Fae Queen had found herself recently. The atmosphere here attracted a plethora of people whose emotions were like a warm embrace. Where previously the emotions of others would have been overwhelming, the faerie queen now relished in the way that she no longer had to feel her own emotions and her own despair. No. This was better. It was better to drown in emotions that weren't her own. At least the lust and joy and amusement were much better than the grief she felt.
Tonight she was seated at the bar, nursing the third of whatever she had ordered. Three drinks in and she couldn't remember what it was called. It was fruity and was going straight to her head. She kept her head down. Tonight, she had no intentions of attracting attention. No, she was dressed in jeans and a bland grey sweater in an attempt to blend in, though her fiery red hair did anything but let her blend in. Still, she didn't want attention tonight.
Or at least, she thought she didn't.
But the instant that someone flopped down in the seat next to her, her attention was drawn entirely to the rugged, bearded man that spoke so confidently - and so loudly. Samantha's gaze traveled down the length of the man, a small smile on her features. There was something about him that seemed to draw her in and make her want to be near him. Still, she didn't speak yet. No, her attention was entirely on the clearly flustered bartender who presented the man beside her with a bottle of the whiskey. Samantha signaled for another one from him, and luckily he seemed much more relaxed with the woman's attention than the rugged man beside her.
It was perhaps the alcohol that had her so attentive on him. The third of her drinks was going straight to her head and leaving her feeling light and airy. She reached up, pushing her red hair behind an ear to reveal the pointed tip of her ear - a clear indication of her race - before she reached out to put a hand on his arm.
"I'm Sam," She said pleasantly as she caught his attention. "What's your name?"