stuff us in boxes that's where you want us

cardboard is boring, we brought our matches - look how it burns

Of all the fucking places Harley could have found herself tonight, she would never imagine it to be Syn. She had to admit, of all the things she had seen in this stupid place, the bar portion was actually not that bad. It possessed atmosphere and the darkness contrasting the glowing accenting lights seemed not exactly unpleasing. Other than the fact that it was crawling with cats and vampires, she could imagine herself enjoying the music. But it was the looming truth that sobered her, that darkness was not solely for mood it was for those vampires that enjoyed hunting within. The raven-haired woman loathing those blood sucking beasts with a fiery passion, that hatred fueling that blaze to be here now, as though Risque and Darcy were not enough. This was not her first time within this club... that battle that transpired was one she would hardly forget anytime soon. Watching family turn against one another. She shook her head, abruptly pulling herself from the past and focused on that very task at hand. That intention to be here was one based on garnering intel, digging up some dirt to find something useful to navigate the shitshow that had become of her life. Her vibrant purple eyes scanning that ominously glowing bar with a quick precision only to find out that the person she was seeking to sink her metaphorical claws into was hardly present tonight. Ian, it would seem had a day off.. damn..

She slid over to that bar, still deciding to order a drink. 'Tequila sunrise.' No, the irony wasn't lost on her in a vampire bar. The bartender across from her offered the raven-haired woman a skeptical glance, it would seem that drink was not entirely lost upon her. Harley afforded the woman nothing more than that iconic fuck you smirk that truly could have passed as almost pleasant if it were not for that glaring look.

One drink and then she would ditch this hellhole, she was sure. She hardly wanted to garner the attention of Darcy or Risque, or else she would have found her evening a total bust while putting herself in the way of their torment for no fucking reason whatsoever. Her main reason for being here tonight wasn't even here, perhaps she should have just left. But she suspected that would be too obvious and the least thing she needed was to bring attention to herself in a place crawling with bloodsuckers. It would seem she even slathered herself with faux charm for nothing, wearing a none too subtle dark red v-neck top with none too subtle bold font. 'unless you're a dog.. get away from me.' She thought the red was perfect attention-grabbing for that one bartender in particular that she wished to squeeze his worth for intel. It was then that she looked over to her left, a vague recognition washed over her then, fuzzy at best, but she had memorized the most important faces on that pyramid of photographs.

Was that blood he was drinking from a cup? She nearly busted out laughing, finding it hilarious for a vampire to drink from a glass, it seemed almost like a child drinking out a sippy cup! The raven-haired were recognized that unwrinkled face from the picture... That signature pale skin of a vampire, the creepy youthful face and disturbing ruby red eyes in contrast to that dark hair upon his head. Everything about him felt wrong, he looked even younger now than he did in that photograph. It was fucking creepy. She could hardly help that obvious scoff, laced with utter disdain at the very sight of him. That judgment that crossed her violet gaze worn proudly upon her face like warpaint.

So that was Risque's other progeny in the flesh, Babyface Ratboy. His skin and eye colour reminded the woman of one of those... albino rats. He was the unknown little question mark. All she knew was she intended to have her drink, far away from him. She placed that money on the glowing indigo bar wordlessly, not even bothering to tip the undead bartender. Fuck them.. Fuck them all. She tried to keep her own irked demeanour in check. She hadn't been spotted as far as she could tell and she truly wanted to keep it that way.

At least Darcy wasn't around, she was quite certain that her drink would have wound up thrown his direction if the man appeared within throwing distance. Little did she know that he was probably close, amongst the balcony like he was some kind of self-proclaimed king. The very thought made her bristle and yet he was not her intended target.

She retreats to the back of that club, scanning the layout of Syn with a studious gaze, at least learning what she could until that drink was finished. It felt wrong being here and yet... here she was. Like the little infiltrator, she was. Harley so pitied the fool that decided to approach her now as she casually sipped her orange and grenadine cocktail, mingling into a gradient of red and orange as though it mimicked the very sunrise itself. If the writing on her shirt, the drink and her no fucks given look upon her face didn't ward off the masses than surely that sharpened tongue would it was forever poised and at the ready. She almost wished they did, content to take up that verbal sport at any given notice. She leaned up against the wall almost casually but she was far from comfortable, hardly trusting her back to any motherfucker in this room.. At least for a moment, she could get lost to the drink, to the thudding music that wasn't all that bad, surprisingly. All she was certain of was that there was no motherfucker in this bar that was going to catch her unawares, although they were more than welcome to try.

Harley Westward