Raylin Chike

Raylin had not been unscathed by her encounter with the scary man that murdered her bartending friend. No, not in the slightest and yet - she tried desperately to make sure it wouldn't affect her life! It did, as disheartening as it was - she hesitated every time she walked into a bar now. Though, she couldn't stop herself from applying for a position as a bartender, she couldn't let it scare her indefinitely. Plus, what better way to face your fears than diving headfirst into them? Although, Ray had to admit, she couldn't stand walking along that street where Tom had been murdered - she avoided it at all costs as well as the bar where she used to hang out at. She kept a firm grasp on her emotions for the most part, at least until she got home and stared at a wall until she fell asleep. Her naivety was something that kept her up at night and the question of why didn't she just listen to Tom? He clearly knew something was up but Ray thought he was being stereotypical, species racist? Is that a thing?

Sighing at the memories, the woman hardly ever escaping the regret that so haunted her - she toys with her fingers restlessly as she watches the ocean. It was quiet for once, the wind kept to a minimum and the waves lapping at the shore lazily. If it weren't so cold, she might go for a midnight swim to chase away the terrors that would surely follow her home and into sleep. Refraining from doing just that, she runs a hand through her blush colored hair, her fingers snagging on the wet strands before she slides them into the sand next to her. How she loved the feel of the granules running between her fingers! There was nothing more comforting than that. Ray was certain that if she could figure out a way to have a sand entrance - she absolutely would. As her thoughts turn to more pleasant things, she inhales deeply through her nose as the salty breeze enters her body. Leaning back casually, her arms behind her to support her weight, she tilts her head back to gaze at the faint stars. She's almost at a point of contentment... almost.

A familiar voice reaches her ears.

Oh, it was an accent she had thought was endearing when she first met him.

Snapping her head to the side, eyes wide as she takes in the southern man, Ray's lips part slightly in astonishment at first then fear quickly following. She vaguely realizes he has flipped the flask from the ground into his hand, Ray scrambling away and into a standing position. She wasn't dumb - the moment she took off this monster would follow her, catching her easily. How could she possibly get out of this? Stall him? Beg for her life? Ray was almost positive her begging would do nothing - perhaps entertain him, give him a show before his meal. Think. Think. THINK. It was a mantra that kept her sane, kept her from falling to her knees in a sobbing mess, to keep her from begging. So, she does what he least expects, she draws up that rage and anger from that night, that this man killed her friend because he could. Drowning out her fear, she lets a fire ignite in her eyes as she glares at him, her hands fisted at her side.

"Colt," she acknowledges him coldly - the woman hardly ever forgetting that name he gave her at the bar. "Unfortunately, I don't share with murderers," she watches him, her voice cracking on the last word - though she was proud to say it was not in fear but in rage. Not the most original thing to say... and he was helping himself anyways. Too late now, maybe she could keep him talking - she just needed to get back to her bag. Yes, her bag - that would help. "What do you want? Don't you think you've already made my life miserable enough?" She grounds out. Still, rather than fleeing away from him, she takes a step towards him and snatches the flask out of his hands, the drink sloshing over the edge and onto her hand. Ignoring the coldness, she simply plops back down onto the sand and takes a deep drink, turning away from him. Maybe if she could confuse him enough her plan might actually work, the wheels in her head were spinning, putting pieces into place and though her anger was real she couldn't help the slight tremble in her hand as she puts the flask in between her folded legs.

"I was enjoying my night before your face showed up," she mutters just loud enough for him to hear but doesn't look at him. Nope, she was staring at the ocean, the vampire just in her periphery view. Oh god, what was she doing?