Sex. Drinking. Gambling. Cobain participated in enough sinful activities (beginning with having his soul damned, and the list concluding with murder) that he hardly wished to add any of these to the list. Unfortunately, Cobain has been contained to Syn, stuck at Risque's side so that she could keep an eye on her progeny. But being within the walls of Syn, meant that Cobain was subjected to all of these things on a regular basis. From the gambling games upstairs that Cobain was forbidden to join by Darcy. Not that he had any money anyway, he used Risque's. Risque wouldn't have a minion looking anything less than stellar. And then there was the bar, something Cobain frequented by not for the alcohol that was supplied, but for his own stash of blood the bartender kept on hand. If Cobain got too hungry, he couldn't always control himself. Maybe if he had had a maker who actually cared to see their children grow, Cobain would have learned to quell his hunger, instead, Risque just used him, used that hunger as a bargaining chip. He would let the others drink themselves silly, but Cobain had no wish to be apart of it.

And then there was the sex. He could hardly stand the way lust seemed to radiate off of all the party goers, dancing and touching and throwing eyes at each other on the dance floor, only to fall into each others beds and arms that night. It was sickening, the way they would desire each other. Cobain had no room for such a emotions, Risque had only supplied him with anger, rage, hatred, letting the rest sink into the ground on which he had died upon and been brought to life as the shell he is.

Those eyes had always looked to Darcy with a look of callus and disdain. The pale vampire demon child had never enjoyed the other vampire's company, in fact, he detested it. Darcy was wrapped around Risque's finger, if their mistress told him to jump off the nearest cliff, he would in an instant. Of course, without a choice in the matter, Cobain would too, though he would be shooting dangers the entire way down, only grateful for the reliable splat at the end.

Those eyes do not manage a blink as they remain fixed on Darcy as the last of his drink find his throat. He stands at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for Darcy to get over whatever was bothering him and move on so that this task would be finished and Cobain could retire back to his room and wait out the day. Perhaps, then, tomorrow night when the sun would retreat, he could find that fae girl once more and drink her blood that he could only guess was sweet and quenching. But, first, he had to get through this night with Darcy.

Hell would be better than this, of that Cobain was sure of.

Cobain knows Darcy hates him too. He was jealous, of that maker and progeny relationship that would forever bound Risque and Cobain together, a relationship that Darcy could try all he wanted to get, but he will never have. Poor sucker. It must be awful to be in love with she devil. At leas, despite everything else she had done to him, Risque had never been able to make Cobain fall in love with her. In that way, the juvenile was spared. How gracious of his mistress. It would seem the same fate could not be said for Darcy. If given the chance, Cobain knows that the man would strike him down, but once more, Risque has provided that...graciousness...and Cobain knows she would not allow such an action to happen. A servant that could not rebel against its masterâ€"she would never give that up.

His mimicking does little to change the stoic expression on his face. Cobain well adjusted to Darcy's antics by now, even if it has been quite some time since the teenage vampire has been restricted to Risque's side. He knows the only reason he was assigned to do this task with Darcy was for Risque to torture him, to punish him for the years of gallivanting he had done, enjoying his freedom from his maker. "Glad to know you still enjoy wasting time," he says in that monotone voice of his. They only had so many hours before the sun came up and the idea of being cooped up some where with Darcy for a whole day was enough of an incentive to ensure their task was finished tonight.

"Because, clearly, the dream is to spend even more time with my maker," he says, narrowing eyes slightly as they glow red. "How have I possibly made it through this immortal life without playing cards with rednecks?" he says, hinting towards Darcy's past. He stands there with that endless patience, waiting for the man to make it downstairs, until he finally comes to stand beside him. He hardly wastes time with the insulting words. Wasn't Cobain the one that was supposed to be closer to a high schoolers age? Those red eyes look upon the man with silent disdain for a moment before pulling out a cellphone and pulling up a picture. "This Dark Hunter, apparently he and his minions have been attacking anyone seen going to or coming from the club, and it's bad for business," he says. "There are quite a few of them in their little gang, so I hope you are thirsty."