Darcy a near expert in attempting to needle through the figurative minefield that was Risque, the man perhaps more attentive than any other in her presence that could understand those subtle nuances. While mostly it served him, she knew him, perhaps just as well. She didn't need to see that look upon his face to know he was far from pleased. Within the confines of the sleek black car with little to distract her, he was the perfect being to hone in upon. He was keeping something from her, or at least that was what her mind could deduce. After all, Risque was a master of nuance, looking beyond the veil of what was presented in front of her. How else did she break her enemies, if she was not perceptive.

Risque lingered upon her lover's veiled words perhaps absently as if stroking the luxurious fur of one of her cats. "Hmm.." she contemplated his words. Was that truly a meal being proud of? Surely, they should have known better that it would not appeal to her. If not, they should have made it their business. Yet, she could not help but ask that very question even though she cared so little for that meal. Was that meal an accurate depiction of Southern cuisine? How she could hardly wrap her head around the notion.

Her delicate brows stitched into a considering frown... Confusion at the mention of Clair? Oh, did he mean eclairs? That mention of her own favoured human delicacy, a pastry made for royalty in the 19th century. How could Darcy compare that meal to a near artform to craft? Was the south truly so crude? She continued to tap that finger to a beat of her own making before answering that question. "There are very few things I try from time to time. True, French cuisine... not the faux merde they serve and call it such.. imbeciles. Les gens ne savent même pas ce qu'est la nourriture." Risque it seemed lost herself to her own opinions, as French seized her. She highly doubted in her lover's taste buds, although she could hardly blame him if they had been all but burned off from salt. The very taste of that salted broth nearly caused her to wrinkle her nose. How thick her accent had grown, Risque decidedly growing quite strongly about it that her words bled into her mother tongue. "If that chicken was.... Coq au vin, I might have indulged in a little taste.." But how certain she was, that even then, there were few to ever prepare a meal to her own standards. The art of French cuisine somehow lost, the further from France she ventured. But how hard would it have been to have hunted down a few human's from the city? Or offered their servants veins to them. It would seem, that even still, it wouldn't have been a guarantee that she would have been pleased. The woman's tastes might have fluctuated with her moods.. At the very least, at home, she had variety. That talk of food only made the vampire woman focus upon her stomach and just how empty it was. At the very least, the closer they got to the city, the closer it meant she could feed.

At the very least, Darcy seemed confident about where they were going, but that drive somehow seemed far longer than the drive to that cursed plantation. What a complete waste of time. She certainly did not trust the likes of Wyatt to give them directions. She hardly trusted the man, even though he appeared to hold far more sense than his wife did. That assurances that Darcy knew the way, saw to a single dismissive nod. Just like that the car shuddered as they hit yet another pothole, it unpleasantly rattled the car and her last nerves. How she normally enjoyed a car ride and those blinding speeds, a poorly paved road and that assaulting hunger only add to that already existing vexation. What she hated worse than fools it was wasted time. It would seem that was all Wyatt and Mary-Beth was good for. She was lucky, she hadn't taken more, hadn't made them all suffer. They could have done well with a lesson she was sure of it.

That conversation so hardly remained upon that weak-willed man for long, returning back to fact that there were vampires starving themselves. All for the reason because blood was a commodity here, filling their stomachs with human food if only to feel full. She all but gaped, open mouth at such a backwards way of thinking. To think, that any vampire could be content in such an environment baffled her all the more. The true question, perhaps, was what made them stay? "How... sad.." She uttered with lackluster pity. "I wonder how any coven can possess enough power, if all their vampires are starving... even if they don't know any better. The hunters don't bother with any of them, do they?" They were hardly a threat to the human populace or anyone..... why would a hunter waste their time when they seemed to docile themselves. But what a great front that could have been. Risque mused at the possible thought. Now, if only one of them was smart enough to utilize it. She doubted it.

It was certain, if Darcy remained here, he would have remained nothing more than the stunted vampire she had found. So much unlocked potential, forced to repressed. How all that loyal, brave, smart potential would have been all but squandered on useless dust, starved into submission. She knew that he flourished beneath her and continued to do so, how he was beyond them all, she had seen it that night. Power, bred power. Saw it still and he had yet to truly disappoint her. "To think of what would happened if you remained.. here.." She mused out loud, she turned her head to peer at his chiseled face, studying it with that pale scrutiny, as if searching for something she gave no inkling for what.

"Tell me... how does it feel? To know now, you could take them all if you wanted.. to know that besides me, you are the most powerful force in almost any given room?" They were no better than mortals, she was so entirely sure. She looked out into the vast darkness ahead of them, staring into the darkness and knew she was the one to fear and bow down before.

After a time, those roads had shifted to dirt. Surely there had to be a better road to take than this? How this was even classified as road at all was mystifying. Every jarring rattle of the car made that journey feel like an eternity. She could not take much longer under this duress. Darcy seemed to fall into a tangent of cattle, and explaining how out here they would need a herd of humans, breeding only to replace the dead each year. The problem with humans was that they aged slow and were needy creatures. While the concept seemed smart enough in these circumstances, for each vampire to possess enough humans to feed themselves. Vampires were not designed to farm their own supply of blood; they were designed to hunt them. To take what they wanted. After all, they were the apex predators even when humans still outnumbered them all. What a waste of immortality... but even then, not all immortal beings were crafted equal. Even with that music now raised and the stars overhead, even her thoughts seemed interrupted by this cursed road. Yet another town sign they passed with nothing of note. An audible impatient sigh escaped her, Darcy's own impatience echoing her own. "There must be another road.." she finally snapped..
It was then that the flashing lights began to flash behind them. That promise of food seemed to be the only saving grace in that very moment lest she lose her temper. She was so close to demanding the pull over so she could break in to some poor farmer's home and feed. How she wished to stab someone for every bump they hit... That poor police officer would surely suffer. That was, until those plans went up in blast of smoke. That cop was not human had Risque planning that vampire's demise, simply because she could. She hissed that displeasure, that furious expression all but plastered upon her beautiful but hateful face. She was moments away from exiting that car and smiting him down when suddenly that recognition struck that uniformed cop, the irritating lights still bleeding into their vehicle from the rear window. Darcy seemed all the more bothered by that recognition, that agitation not even concealed in the slightest. She at least found some newfound entertainment, making her lover squirm. How easy it was for her to switch upon that mask, if only to make matters worse. How easily Clay seemed willing to talk. Darcy seemed forced into a corner that Risque seemed content enough to edge him toward. Risque almost couldn't believe the man's name.. a man with two first names. Risque rose her brow pointedly as the thought. Although that history with her mate and this vampire cop seemed to amuse her more. How Darcy rarely ever spoke of that past before being turned, in fact, she could not remember a single thing of his human life. Not that she was any better. That was one topic that was never to be brought up unless you wanted to suffer her impossible wrath or perhaps simply be beheaded on the spot.

Clay, nice natured, seemingly good boy Clay knew Darcy. How she wondered if he would recognize him now. It was that imposing hand that shot into the car that Risque seemed near inclined to want to break, especially when he so whistled appreciatively at her. She then bat at the top of his hand before pushing it away from her space as if it could have carried some sort of disease, that action of his friends reaching arm had Darcy pushed further into his seat. It was then those follow up words that seemed to only press on undead cowboy's nerves even further. It was a wonder that he didn't break that arm himself. "If he tells you, then he will have to kill you." While those words seemed issued simply in jest, they were far from it. That same hand finding the top of Darcy's leg, garnering his attention to her.

Risque apparently pushing her lover's buttons once more, at the decision that they take back his human home. How he hissed those words of obedience out loud. It was clear he was raging underneath that feeble composure. She squeezed his leg, just enough to add that reminding pressure. He wouldn't fight her on this now, would he?

The more this policeman Clay continued to talk, blatantly speaking as though he possessed authority over them. How quickly she could have ended him. She wondered of her mate's reaction to the loss. Just how finished was he with that very past truly? Darcy seemed content enough to leave buried in the past. "Are you not the least bit curious?" She goads sweetly like poisoned honey.. There was a sharpness to those very words, her fangs near flashing in the dimly lit vehicle. That very thought that they needed permission in this, in anything... from him.. some weak, starving vampire. It seemed to cause that dominant side of her to flash, sliding just beneath the surface of her skin. Risque had met the end of that feigned patience. That invite to that party seemed to be well-intended, seemed to be met with a less than enthused response. Such a nosy little vampire, thinking he could tell her, Risque. A queen in her own right, who and who not to kill. How easy he would have been to kill, simply for the irony of such a statement.

Boot Barn? What kind of name was that? Just as quickly as that intrigue had spurred within her, it was snuffed. Shortly after, they had their next destination planed while Clay finally left with his undead life still intact, for now at the very least. How quiet Darcy became them.. far too quiet as he seemed left to fester in his own foul mood. Fortunately, this drive was a short lived and Risque, for now allowed him his solitude. Until finally she broke it just outside this so called Boot Barn. "Your little cop friend seems to think he has power over you.." Was all she purred before Darcy went to open up her door, quickly, that edge he had been teetering upon still lingering then. He was acting perhaps far too strange, this little town of Jakin seemingly wearing poorly upon him. Refusing to speak of it at all... Risque however, seemed far more suspicious of the dirt-packed ground. She took a moment before placing her foot firmly upon it. She half expected a tumbleweed to suddenly cross their path, the sound of crickets near deafeningly loud. There was not a soul in sight, as if a ghost town. It was a wonder this store was even open then. The electricity of that poor old broken sign humming in the distance. All the letters illuminated save for, the 't', the sign reading... 'Boo barn'. It hardly seemed to cause a vote of confidence and yet... she could hardly ruin the expensive Italian leather of the boots she now wore. She could see the logic in that, if nothing else.

Darcy spoke mentioning those boots she would need if they were to visit his ranch. How very smart that thinking was, Risque growing such a foul temper when her expensive shoes got ruined. "Very well..." But a moment later, they were at the door, the unoiled door creaking when opened assaulted her first accompanied by the sound of irritating chiming of a bell alerting their presence. It was then followed by those extremely bright florescent lights, which only enhanced that natural undead paleness of their skin. There wasn't a single person in that deserted store... save for one. The sweet sound of her heartbeat could have been heard for miles, Risque was sure of it.. How conveniently human.

Her eyes scanning the confines of that store almost lackadaisically, those lines and lines of boots stacked upon the shelves in accordance to size, like a budget shoe store. Those shelves, however, were stocked to the brim, so much so that it was surprising considering they all looked the same. Different colours and embellishments. While the chance of shopping usually intrigued her, this seemed almost nightmarish. It would seem this retail store acted also as a feed and tack store.

It was massive and yet still suffocating cramped. Yet even still, it was something at the back of the store that seemed to catch her eye. That glaring associate seemed to approach them from across the store where she was diligently stocking shelves and taking inventory. Darcy voicing what they searching for while Risque could not help but stare at those vile pink boots she wore.. The outfit hardly appearing much better, the blond human appearing close to a daisy duke want-to-be. One look at her had Risqué eyeing her with blatant judgmental disapproval. Her voice was so entirely happy as that thick southern accent. While she had grown accustomed to Darcy's thick drawl, even so much as enjoying the soothing tone of his voice over the years. Yet that accent on other people who were far more content to use slang, it seemed far more ... abrasive.

Darcy met that bubbly little creature, while Risque's gaze seemed to fall back on the curious leather hung up along the walls. How easy it was to abandon him with the sale's associate in favour of those leather straps that caught her eye. How easily forgotten were those... boots, so vastly different from those dagger-like heeled boots she wore now! Her gaze immediately shifting to the hobbles, they appeared strong. How interesting. She reached out to examine just that including how strong they were, pulling it off from the wall. What a find! In fact, there was so much more than just that. Risque already set aside several pieces, including a pair of chaps. She could have spent at least an hour, looking at all the mechanisms, her eyes roving over everything that could possibly be useful. How delightful this little store was proving to be!

Darcy seemed content enough to be peering at the options of boots the bubbly sales associate... Marlene seemed busily collecting to show him. All while Risque seemed to entirely engrossed with those items. Finally, in some obscure little dark corner of the store, she found a true prize, a utility belt with a large black knife within it. It wasn't exactly the most flattering piece in the world but somehow the she-devil found it an absolute essential. Instantly, she slung it over her slender shoulder as the blonde human set up a fitting room filled with options for clothes. It wasn't long that Darcy appeared behind her just as Risque picked up some strange metal contraption in her right hand, that her wrist wore that expensive Cartier bracelet he had bought her for her birthday. She spun around holding it in the air just before his face, her face quite perplexed.

"What do you think these are used for.. I can't seem to figure it out. This store is absolutely... merveilleuse (marvelous).... Hmm... What is it that you have there?" Risque's eyes immediately honed in upon the black leather boots held in his hand. At the very least it was black. Her eyes narrowed as she.... Examined them. "They don't have anything with a taller heel, Dar?" It was a pity.. "I suppose I can make it work..." She plucked them from him, before handing him that odd contraption. "Look, I have started a pile already." She seemed almost far too pleased with herself. All those straps, bits, hobbles, chains.... That were meant for horses.... How little vision people had, she was sure of it. That growing pile sat upon a plush black and white cowhide chair. She moved ever sinuously, to sit into a matching second chair next to it, sinking into that oversized seat. "Dar.." was the only word she asked before lifting a long leg up so he could help unzip her. Finally, once those tall boots were removed she was forced into a pair of..... white tube socks before placing those cowboy boots upon her feet. At the very least, those black leather boots seemed to conceal them and there was simply no way she was going to stick her foot in a smelly old boot (even if in fact they are new...) without protection.

Risque stood, examining her boot-clad foot assessing it at different angles as if... it would somehow make it better. Surprisingly the leather seemed soft at the very least.. the boot made quite well considering. She walked a little bit in them. "They feel a little short..." she assessed... critically.. For a few long moments, she finally admitted. "They will do.." Just as she uttered those words... Marlene returned, quite proud of herself having set up Risque a fitting room. The she-devil still possessing that utility belt with a knife holster attached still slung over her right shoulder.

"Unzip me." She ordered, turning around giving her back and a petite zipper that went all the way down, sweeping her long blue-black locks to the side, draping it over her shoulder. Once finished, she walked into that fitting room, if you could call it that... it was a cramped room with two poorly plastered, vandalized walls with a bedsheet for a 'door'. She slid out of her dress easily, placing it upon hook that no dress that expensive should have sat.. She was stripped down to her lacy fine dark blue lingerie. She hardly cared that she wore a thong underneath a dress or the fact that expensive imported material was sheer, barely concealing her womanly attributes.

When she finally Risque peered at the clothing.. a pair of.... Loose-fitting light denim jeans with yellow plaid shirts.. even a matching denim jacket..... The prissy little cowgirl had to be kidding herself! She nearly could contain her anger when her eyes scanned over a hot pink shirt in near repulsion..

In a huff, she near dramatically swiped the sheet aside strutting out in her scantily clad lingerie, wearing nothing but her new cowboy boots. That feminine figure not leaving much to the imagination and she hardly cared. She looked as though she had walked right out of a luxury lingerie photoshoot, hardly caring that her breasts near spilled out of that bra.

"Mimi, do you not possess any... fashion sense?" She chastised loudly, beautifully irate, her hands on her hips as she stood in the middle of that store boldly. It hardly mattered it was a public place and perhaps anyone could have entered at any given moment. "Must I do everything myself?" She cursed none too quietly, words like sharpened blades, with no effort hiding her irritation.

She barely gave the poor woman time to respond before losing herself into that store, amongst the countless clothes that hung upon the hangers... Her pale eyes scanning everything there was to be seen, snatching a few of those seemingly random items that at least matched her colour scheme, including a pair of black jeans.. a shirt that said 'I'd rather be farming..'. Whilst not her first choice, it was the only shirt that seemed flattering to a feminine physique. The next was a button-down black shirt that she could at least remove some buttons from.

"Would you say these are more... costume appropriate?" She questioned, as though dressing for the south was nothing but a costume. She moved back to the back of the store where her collection of items remained. She spread out her items up on the back of the armchair before looking to Darcy with a stern expression. " Which shirt?" She stood there, perfectly poised and full of completely confident with her hand resting upon the top of that chair in all her glory. How little she cared for the shocked expression upon the sales associates face, nor the way she so blatantly stared as if she never saw divine perfection of the human form before."You may look all you wish... Mimi.. but.. at least.. be useful and start ringing up my other items." How little she cared that was hardly her name at all.