Chapter Text
Miles stood on the curb, staring up at the neon sign glowing in the dark. It was one of those tacky ones with the person posing and their arm moving - but it was clearly meant to be a vampire drinking a pack.
He pursed his lips and sighed. The Mortuary. Odd name for a mixed club, he said to himself, shrugging and pushing the door open.
He was suddenly bombarded with smells - the room only had a dozen or so people in it, but two-thirds were vampires and all but one were marked humans. He took a minute to let it sweep over him and decide he didn’t recognize any of them, and moved to the bar.
"Hey!" a friendly brunette said to him. "What can I getcha? We’ve got a great beer on tap, unless you’re more into the hard stuff." She winked at him.
"You could say that. How’s your blood supply?" he asked, sitting on a stool and propping up his elbows on the bar.
She gasped. “You must be a camo! Never seen one before - well, not that I’ve recognized anyway.” She laughed and shook her head. “Sorry. Blood supply’s a little low since we just opened, we’ve got a couple packs of Jack Daniels and a rum and Coke, otherwise it’s beer.”
"Any synth?"
"Just Jack’s." She shrugged. "Wish I could offer you more."
"One of the Jack’s would be fine, thank you." He smiled. "I’m surprised at how many people you’ve got in here for a Thursday night."
"Well, the mates in the booth are the owners," she said, thumbing over her shoulder as she reached for the big fridge in the corner. "They’re here tonight with a couple human friends and two mated couples, showing them the place."
"And the big guy at the back table?"
"He’s with a different coven in town. The little human he’s with is a local feeder."
Miles frowned. “Didn’t think Austin had any feeders.”
She slipped the pack into a holder and cracked the top off. “Synth drinker like you wouldn’t need to look for one, would you?”
"Guess not. What about you?" he asked.
She pointed at her wrist. “Oh, this? Sorority requirement.” She slipped a straw in the open top and slid him the drink. “Four dollars.”
Miles’ eyebrows shot up. “That ain’t bad.” He traded her the holder for a ten. “Keep the change.”
She shook her head. “You’re too generous.”
"I could say the same about you." He took a sip and sighed. "I don’t usually miss being human, but damn, I miss the booze sometimes."
"They say the buzz is better from real blood." She crossed her arms.
"Then I guess it’s something I’ll never know." He took a deep drink and licked his lips.
"That adamant, huh?"
"My coven’s a synth coven, the only ones that drink are the old guy, the brute, and the one recovering from his depression." He shrugged. "I’ve never had the desire to drink or hunt anyway. I turned because I didn’t want to die a slow cancerous death. I think I’ll be okay."
She stared at him, dumbfounded. “Wow. That’s painfully honest.”
"No sense in telling lies." He held out his hand. "The name’s Miles Luna."
She grinned at him. “Arryn Zech. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”