Malek Ackerman
You're my water. You're my wine.
Malek could feel the course of alcohol dancing through his veins and he especially liked the way it made him feel light and even a little fuzzy. The vampire would have liked to stay at the bar until dawn was but an hour off, yet he knew the bartender would not allow him after his last fiasco with Dorian. Cringing briefly at that memory some months ago, he remembers being thrown out with the faerie and offering to take him to the strip club and after that, well... simply nothing. Reaching up Mal scratches at his chin when suddenly a warning pings in the back of his head.
Rather than stopping, he continues casually walking along, slipping his hand into his pocket again, noting the presence that tracks him through the streets. The vampire's mind instantly clear, he senses rather than sees the sticky substance shooting at his legs. Malek makes the quick decision to allow the substance to coil about his legs rather than side step around it. He was curious to say the least as to why another vampire might be stalking him through the streets, his evening had been fairly drab anyways, why not spice things up a bit?
Feeling the web wrap about his ankles, he removes his hands from his pockets to catch his fall, making it look as real and dramatic as possible, though he doesn't fake the oof that rushes through his body. The vampire even winces a bit as the gravel slices into his hands, blood pooling at the small open wounds. Immediately he senses his own blood and he's certain it won't take long for his attacker to smell it as well. Shifting a bit as he tests the bonds, he's surprised to find little electric jolts that run the length of the bond, and he winces at the uncomfortable sensation.
Tilting his head, he pushes himself up into a semi sitting position, but the vampire has to support his body with his hands still. Turning, he notes the figure in the darkness, a male voice addressing him as if he were offering advice to the man he had just attacked. Arching his brows in amusement, he shrugs his shoulders as he tries to identify the man. Seeing that he stands in the shadows, Malek has a difficult time making out who he is, he's only able to note that the man is vampire such as himself.
"I don't suppose you would mind releasing me?" he questions, his English accent rolling off his tongue nicely as he squashes down his own affinity as best as he can. Perhaps he will call it forth later on depending on the outcome of their conversation. As of now, Malek simply watches the man, inspecting him as best as he can while he hides in the shadow. It doesn't take long for the ancient to note the stranger seems young, and not by human standards but by vampire standards. Didn't he know it wasn't safe to tinker with the old generation of vampires?
You're my whiskey. From time to time.