How fucking satisfying it was to stare at that empty ocean. How much more pleasant that scenery was without that damn hulking rust bucket of an Ark to block out the view of the moon that eclipsed the ocean beneath it, spreading pale light as it steadily rose ever higher. Darcy leaned agianst the railing of the dock. That weather-worn, aged wood crumbled slightly agianst the black leather of his jacket and yet he hardly found he cared. Not when he found it so pleasing to eye the cold, empty water at the end of the pier. The Ark, somewhere beneath those waves, lay rotting- along with everything in it. How simply unfortunate it was that Tetradore had managed to climb off that sinking ship. Risque would hardly have permitted him to kill the little wretch and yet still- it was nice to imagine it. The vaguest hint of a simper tugged at the vampires lips. Those large, double fangs, so briefly exposed with the gesture as the man seemed to find some passing amusement in his own internal thoughts and those images of all the ways in which Tetradore would look so much better drowned, or torn apart, or profusely mangled in some other way. How those thoughts soothed his rarely-quietened temper. Darcy! A frown quickly found his features at the sound of his name, the dark haired man quick to turn his mistmached gaze away from the dark ocean before him and towards the water to his left as Ian spluttered to the surface. The bar-keep, a normally sorry sight of a man, looking even more so with his hair sodden plastered to his face. His sharp, weasley features appearing even more so as the other vampire spat that salt water from his lips. Ian treading water in an effort to keep himself above the surface as he spoke. That wreck is fucking big. It's going to take me all night to check it. Is it really worth searching it for anything valuable? Did Tet even have anything worth-

"Shut da hell up an keep searchin'."
If you fucking helped we'd get it done a lot faster.
"Yar talkin' back at me?"
Darc, sir, come on, if you just helped-
"Risque would fair 'ang me if I got dis jacket wet."
You scared of your women?
"What did yar say?"

How quickly that Southern vampire moved, the revolver appearing like lightning within his hand only for the sound of that gun firing to echo along the beach. Ian seemed to hover within that water for a moment, the barkeep barely having a chance to understand just what had happened before his eyes rolled back within his head. The blood from that bullet wound, right within the center of his forehead, ran thickly down the man's features to stain the water around him. The 'dead' vampire rapidly began to sink below the surface as Darcy blew the smoke from that gun. Ian would come too later, somewhere on the ocean floor. Maybe by then he'd be fucking smart enough to do his job and remember his place beneath his Master.

"Fucking idjits."

The words were muttered to little more than himself as that revolver was returned to the holster at his belt and beneath that jacket. The vampire moved to turn on his heel then, Darcy vaulting up and over the railing to land with a muted -thud- on the sand below. His mismatched gaze was briefly cast downwards, the vampire eyeing the sand on his boots with some measure of disdain before beginning to stride up that beach and along the shoreline. He would need to take those boots off before returning to Syn. One grain of sand in their bedroom and Risque would likely make her displeasure clear. Darcy so decidedly unwilling to displease his mate in any sense. His hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket then, that cold hardly affected him, his body so eternally holding that chill of death and yt the gesture was habitual. An attempt to appear almost...human and draw less attention to himself as he made his way along the sand. The vampire's keen gaze piercing that growing darkness with ease as he hunted for any trace of that wreckage washed up on the shore. Something salvageable, something valuable from that ark might yet prove fruitful. More so, it would be something decidedly pleasing to torment Tetradore with later. That alone so making this endeavour worth his time.

What he hardly anticipated was that shift within the direction of the wind. The scent of something, of someone, so very alive becoming all the more clear to him as he paused near abruptly. A predatory stillness falling across his tall, toned figure. His lips parted ever so slightly, Darcy content to near taste that heated blood on the air before his head jerked readily to the side. The vampire scanning the beach within the distance, his gaze fixated upon the small....femanine figure he could see. Oh how very pleasing. Dinner. How quickly his trajectory seemed to change. The vampire shifted his path to move towards the young woman then. Each stride carrying him closer and closer to her figure so prone within the sand. He so hardly bothered to hide his approach. His hunting style was as arrogant as it was bold and yet that beach was deserted. There was no one here to see that crime. Darcy so eternally careful to prevent any being tying those hunts to himself or Syn. After all- that would be bad for business. The mand decidedly discreet in other ways when he chose. That ocean was the perfect method of ridding himself of the body once it was drained of blood. A casualty of the sunken ark perhaps. How familiar that scent was becoming. That faintest of memories stirring within the back of his mind. The girl from the bar all that time ago. Her friend. Her annoying fool of a friend was the one he'd killed. Surely....it was not the same girl? Surely she was not damned brave enough to live in this city still after that night. Her hair was the same, her femanien figure equally as familiar. Each stride closer only further confirming that very thing. Her name. He hardly remembered it. It didn't matter. Yet- how curious it might be to see if she remembered him the way he remembered her. To see if he could force her sad little heart to flutter and jump and send the blood rushing about her body like it had done that night. Those sadistic desires quickly took hold of him as he moved those last few strides toward her figure.

"Yar ain't gonna share, 'oney?"

His foot reached out smoothly, the toe of his boot catching under that flask to kick it upward from the sand and into his hand. Darcy so taking a moment to examine it with effortless, unnerving calm before he sniffed at that lid. That silence lingered for several moments before a sudden snort seemed to leave him. That sound holding a vague amusement before his mismatched gaze shot downward and to the woman at his feet. The grin at his lips just barely beginning to show those deadly fangs. Nothing about that look even remotely kind in any fashion.

"Das a big drink for such a lil lady now ain't it."

Oh how he would enjoy this.

We are rough men and used to rough ways.