FMLYHM, tag; Klaus.

Dakota was picky about a fair amount of things – she was picky about her makeup, her art, her clothes (on days that she was sober enough to care, at least), and she was fanatical about her music. She was careful with a high number of things as well – who she bought from (again, when she was sober enough to process thought), and whose name she dropped to whom in the black market shops and alley ways that she bought and sold her black magic goods through, and what mechanic she took her motorcycle to when it had gotten dinged, scraped, or was making any noise other than the purring that it was supposed to. What she wasn’t particularly picky, or careful about however, was where she went out to when the sole point and purpose of the night was to find someone to pass the night with that she preferably wouldn’t recall the next day more than a passing memory or two that hopefully involved a whole lot of alcohol, maybe a hit or two of V, or ecstasy, and not a lot of clothes left on her / their person. She was relatively easy to please, when it came to nights like that. Gender didn’t matter, looks helped but weren’t always a prerequisite – all right, so she wouldn’t be so cliché to say that it was personality that mattered, blah blah blah, but really when it boiled down to it, there was a certain… magnetism, that tended to attract Dakota. Sometimes it was the predatory instinct of a vampire’s natural state of being, or a particularly powerful warlock who had a habit of indulging in his darker side, or sometimes, more often than not rather, it was just the wrong kind of guy that was looking for a rough and tumble, down and dirty, no holds barred night of venting their rage and frustration at the world at large.

Not that she minded, most times, being the tool for that venting. She was sure there were plenty of terms for it. Self-destructive, masochistic, and on the list would go if she cared to talk about it, but there were only a handful of times that she really felt like she was actually still living, and most of the time that involved feeling anything – usually pain, sometimes pleasure, sometimes both, and primal rage and lust were pretty high up on that list as well. She had tried to explain that, to the angel that had come to her so-called rescue a few weeks before, that the only time she felt alive was when she didn’t feel like she was actually tied, actually connected to the body that she wore, that she didn’t feel like it was hers, that it was only when she was in that fugue state of crashing, or coming up on a high that she could actually move about it in like it wasn’t a second skin, or a third one, that didn’t belong to her, that she was just puppetteering it around like a twisted version of Pinocchio. Only she was fairly well convinced that there wouldn’t be any making her real. How exactly would she accomplish that? Instead of a blue fairy, she had the fallen angel would-be hunter, and instead of the cat and cricket to act as her conscience, she had the demon king of the crossroads and his trusty sidekick, the first wife of Adam made demon suffrage queen. Okay, so she ran out of metaphors about the time that Eric came into the mix, unless she felt like tying in Robin Hood and his merry men and going for the obvious tie in there …

Of course, then she didn’t know if that would make her Maid Marian, or something like Will Scarlet. She rubbed her hand across her forehead, shaking her head as she tried to clear the random stream of thoughts that had been meandering through her brain after about the fifth drink. She probably should have called it a night then, given up on the chances of finding anyone in this place and going home, but she hadn’t been willing to sacrifice the potential of getting something good out of this night just yet. She had only seem a few familiar faces, mostly because this was new territory for her; she’d heard of the club Ragnorak in more than a few circles, but hadn’t made it to the club until tonight, and she was not going to let her first night in a new place with new faces and potential contacts, and lovers, leave her unsatisfied. ”Another one, if you please, and even if you don’t, do it and make it quick.” She called out, pushing her empty martini glass towards the back edge of the counter, counting on her crisp words and her large tips of the night thus far to catch the bartender’s attention. She turned, her gaze wandering over the dimly lit bar once more, her lips pursed in a faint line of disapproval as she waited for her drink, and let her eyes drift over the crowd.

Tag: Klaus
Outfit: here.
Words: 850
Header: © Me.
Notes: Rawr. <3

Rolling onto his back, Klaus only allowed himself a minute or so to lie there, eyes
closed, panting slightly before his eyes snapped open and he quickly sat up. “Klaus?”
a light, almost entirely breathless voice queried beside him. However, instead of
looking at the young vampire as most guys probably would, he found himself standing
up, fingers nimbly readjusting the zip and buttons on his jeans before moving onto his
belt buckle, tugging at the studded leather to make sure it sat in the middle of his
waist as it should. “That's it? You're just gonna get up and leave?” the voice
questioned again, slightly more confused and ever so slightly irritable now in
comparison to how gentle and kind of forlorn it had sounded before. “Kinda
looking that way, isn't it, love?” he returned sharply and sarcastically, still not
looking at her as he started doing up his shirt again. He heard the girl sitting up and
moving towards him, her hand tugging at his arm to make him turn around.

He hadn't needed to turn around, but he allowed her to move him briefly, his head
tilting slightly, any and all former expressions dissolving completely from his face,
leaving it blank as he looked down at her. “You can't do that. Not after what I just
did for you,” she insisted as she scowled up at him, seemingly disgusted at her own
acts. “I can do what I like, sweetheart,” he started, leaning down towards
her, his tone dropping to a slightly sinister tone and level. “That's how these
sorts of things work,” he finished with a cruel smirk before shaking her hand
off of his arm. “As for what you did for me, I'd get more fun out of an
actual corpse,” he taunted cruelly, the cruel smirk broadening slightly at his own
words. “Now get out,” he instructed, lifting his head again, but keeping his
eyes fixed on hers as he felt his compulsion working it's way so easily into her head,
like a hot knife through butter. “If I see you around here again, I'll kill you,”
he finished, moving coolly to pick up his jacket as the girl scrabbled about gathering
her things before leaving the office.

He shrugged on his jacket as he blankly looked around the messed up office. He'd
sort that out another time. He seriously had to find himself some better
entertainment. He'd never be making the mistake of going after young gun vampires
for fun again. He shook his head, disbelieving in his own stupid actions as he made
his way through a couple of corridors and through a door into the main section of
Ragnarok. The place seemed relatively busy, which was always a bonus for him,
especially when you considered he was looking for decent seconds. First things first,
bar, he thought to himself, moving carefully through the crowd, considering his
options as various girls unwittingly added themselves to his list. He reached the bar
as he heard the irritable instructions of a young woman directed at one of the
bartenders. He smirked slightly to himself at her bravado. Now, there's a better class
of individual, he thought. Leaning casually against the bar, he couldn't help but react
to her.

“Well, that's certainly something I like to see,” he began, slowly turning to
her, his usual overconfident smirk settled across his face. “A girl who knows
exactly what she wants,” he added in a slightly lower, slightly dangerous tone
before lifting his gaze from her to the bartender, whistling loudly in his direction
causing the slightly flustered guy to turn around once again. “Hurry up and get
the lady another one and while you're at it, get me mine,” he called by way
of a simple set of instructions, the bartender nodding erratically before rushing about
in order to deal with the request. He really needed to get a better standard of staff
in this place as well, the sort of staff that wouldn't give him away as someone to be
intimidated by. When he had his hybrids, then he wouldn't struggle for that standard
of people around him. He wouldn't need to settle for anything less. “Anyway,”
he started, turning to the girl again. “I've not seen you in here before. First
time?” he questioned, trying to keep his tone light.

Dakota’s fingernails, perfectly manicured and tipped in a glittering silvery-white acrylic, tapped against the countertop, further proof of her annoyance as she waited for the bartender to make his way over to fetch her empty glass. Her gaze flickered, briefly at first, towards the form of the man that approached the bar only a few feet from her, taking in his general build, but not much else in the way of specifics, her attention shifting back to the bartender who was quickly becoming the sole focus of her irritation. She couldn’t help it, really, patience had never been her strong suit, and there had proved nothing of interest yet that night to pique her curiosity and distract her from her ire: at least, not until the voice cut through the small amount of distance between them, the voice silken and demanding at the same moment, a particularly… interesting accent that she failed to place immediately. Her dark gaze turned, not entirely surprised to see the words having come from the man at the bar, but now that he was facing her, and she was giving him a second look, she was almost wishing she’d bothered to pay a bit more attention for the first. He was not… beautiful, in any sort of male model way, nor particularly what would be defined as… ‘handsome’, at first glance, but there was something… Her head tilted, her hand sliding up from the counter to push back the stray chestnut colored curls from her face, pushing them behind an ear as she studied him, not bothering with any attempts at stealth or feigned shyness as her gaze roamed over his body, and settled on his features again, her gaze drawn towards his, and the air of … possessiveness, the distinctly predatory glint in his eyes and the almost feral curl of his lips as he offered a smirk in her direction.

He was definitely more than human, the question as to what, however, was not so easily discerned, as her initial brush against his aura gave her … absolutely no clue, other than … power. She felt her lips curl into a smirk in return, as he turned his attention to the bartender, his tone deeper and taking on a somewhat sinister growl that made her stomach clench a little in a familiar mixture of anticipation and anxiety. ”And you are… certainly something worth seeing yourself, though I imagine you get that quite a lot.“ Dakota returned, leaving all pretenses of coyness behind, her gaze meeting his as he looked back to her then, her fingers plucking at the copper cigarette case on the counter, flipping it open and snagging one of the cinnamon cloves from it, by rote memory, rather than having to pay much attention to the motion. Her curiosity was piqued, that much was certain. ”My first time… “ A brow quirked upwards, slightly, her smirk taking on an air of amusement, as she toyed with the possibilities of how to finish her response, before half waving off the thoughts and settling for the simpler one, with a low chuckle. ”Here, yes. The things I’ve heard didn’t quite do it justice, though, if I must admit. I assume you are a regular, Mister…. “ She let the words trail off, her voice tilting upwards a little towards the end to indicate a question to the words.

”I’m Dakota.” She offered, preempting his inquiry, and not willing to risk him not bothering to ask, as men who were so very clearly used to getting their way as he was sometimes were wont to do. ”Dakota Stark, and I assure you, it’s a pleasure.” She said, one corner of her lips curling upwards again, the words an offer and a challenge in one. She did so enjoy it when the pretenses were left to the wayside. She glanced down, briefly, bringing her black wrapped clove to her lips, her hands cupping around the end of it briefly, a spark of fire brought to life just long enough to allow her to light the cigarette, though to the perceptive ear there was no sound of a match or a lighter being struck. The flame vanished, the second and third digit of her right hand settling around the clove, slipping it away from crimson painted lips which parted a moment later, a soft wisp of cinnamon scented smoke escaping, as she glanced back up towards her newest drinking companion.

The tap of the woman's fingernails on the bar grated through Klaus, despite the
general din that surrounded him. He'd become hypersensitive as of late and, sure, for
some things, it was a great advantage, but for others, he had to try and grit his teeth
and bare it. He could feel her gaze on him as he made his presence known without
particularly looking at her at first, trying to fight back the knowing smirk threatening to
creep across his face...at least until he had finally turned to her. He tilted his head ever
so slightly, observing her as she was so apparently observing him. He laughed lightly
at her words, considering them for a moment. “You'd certainly think so,” he
responded cockily, slowly leaning forwards, crossing his arms lazily and resting them
against the bar, eyes shifting focus from the woman to the back of the bar as he
continued talking. “But it's largely 'oh God, what's he doing here?',” he added
with a slight sigh and a half hearted shrug, his gaze returning to the woman again,
laughing slightly in spite of himself.

“So, I'll take it as a compliment,” he added as a final thought, eyeing the woman
closely. His signature smirk resettled on his face with renewed bravado when she said
it was her first time...in this particular bar, of course. “Well, I certainly hope it's an
enjoyable one,” he teased, raising and lowering his eyebrows briefly before laughing
lightly as she tried to be coy about inquiring about his name. “Something like
that,” he began, answering her assumption of him being a regular. He had
successfully covered up his motives about this place – the less people that knew, the
better things would be for him in the long run. “If you're going down that route,
it's Mr. Mathias,” he went on, leaning slightly closer to her, removing one hand from
the bar in order to place it on the back of her chair, allowing him to lean a little closer
still, eyes fixed on hers. “But you can call me Klaus,” he finished in a dangerously
low tone, smirking confidently before leaning all the way back to where he had been,
not giving her a second glance.

He lifted his gaze, watching the woman's, who now introduced herself as Dakota,
reflection in the mirrors behind the bar before turning to her as she spoke her last few
words, a broad smile plastered across his face, a smile that he knew was creating the
ever-so-charming dimples that he'd been told he had when he actually smiled. He
didn't really see the appeal, but, hey, it wasn't like he had to see his own face when he
did it. “It certainly is,” he teased again, eyeing her up and down for the God knows
what time. “So, if the things you've heard about this place didn't do it justice,
what brought you here?” he questioned curiously, watching her as she shifted
slightly, watching her hands closely before a renewed smirk settled across his features.
“Neat little trick, that,” he comment, tilting his head slightly. So, this Dakota girl
had a little 'talent'...interesting. His high mood was slightly broken when he caught
sight of the bartender who had been dealing with their drinks.

Gaze snapping to the bartender, he took in a deepish breath before letting out a
relatively high pitched whistle to try and get the guy's attention, quickly following it
with a loud “OI!”. The edgy bartender reluctantly approached him, getting close
enough for Klaus to swiftly reach over the bar and grab the front of the guy's shirt and
pull him towards himself, their faces inches apart as he narrowed his angry blue eyes
at the bartender. “Did I stutter when I told you to 'hurry up'?” he questioned in
a low, threatening tone that could have easily be misinterpreted as a sort of growl.
“From now on, you serve our drinks as your top priority, you understand?”
he asked rhetorically. It would have seemed like an ordinary question to anyone else,
but Klaus' compulsion was working all angles for him. “And her drinks are on me,”
he added, tilting his head in gesture to Dakota before letting the bartender go and get
on with things. “I can understand why people wouldn't want to come here
with idiots like that behind the bar,” he commented offhandedly.

Dakota’s lips curled into a faint smile, as he tilted his attention towards her, closing the distance between them with the air of a man who was accustomed to not being told ‘no’ very often, despite his next words and his glib description of how he was usually met. ”Well, that is most certainly a crime,” She returned, her smile lingering and growing a touch as he moved on from deflection to acceptance of her words. ”You should – that’s how it was intended, so to take it otherwise just seems a little masochistic,” she replied, a hand rising to brush back a stray strand of dark brown hair back again, an infinite loop of action as it would be only another couple of minutes before she was forced to do it again. ”Klaus it is,” Dakota agreed, with a chuckle, quickly dismissing the surname that was offered. Most times people in places like this didn’t over their true first names as it was, and once anything supernatural was added into the mix that was made all the more likely, seeing as when someone lived a few dozen lifetimes, they tended to have to shuffle through names for the sake of discretion.

Her lips lingered into a smile that drifted into a smirk as he let his eyes wander over her, taking in the lines and curves, his appreciation clear in his eyes, invoking a rush of satisfaction. It was a touch of vanity that she couldn’t quite shake, when someone wanted her, especially when she was simply her, without any magical allure or glamour. Perhaps it was another one of her addictions, she mused, with a mental chuckle. Being wanted. Then again, want equaled need and need equaled power, and she was thinking far too much, she mused, a glance of vague annoyance towards the bartender who had yet to provide a drink to serve as a distraction. ”Oh, don’t get me wrong. It’s an interesting place, techno chic, and all, just a hint of the sinister undertones, perfect for the walking the tightrope between sin and well… not… but, in comparison, I’d say it pales, to the company.” So it was unabashed flattery – but what did she have to lose? She didn’t like playing coy. She wasn’t a doll in a window to be admired, and ogled. She was a woman, with wants and desires, and he was most definitely desirable. ”One of many that I’ve got up my proverbial sleeves,” She replied, her hand slipping away, her fingertips plucking the clove from her lips, her head tilting to the side a little to let the drift of cinnamon scented smoke escape into the air beside him, rather than directly at him.

”Girl’s gotta learn how to take care of herself these days, or haven’t you heard?” Dakota’s attention shifted back to him, then, after watching the haze of smoke fade into the permanent gray towards the ceiling, a perfectly arched brow quirking upwards a little, as she watched his reactions. ”There’s monsters about.” She cautioned, almost conspiratorially, though she barely dropped the volume of her voice at all from their conversational tone. Of course, it wasn’t more than a moment after she’d spoken that he’d gotten himself distracted, annoyed to the point of violence, or close to it, by the lack of their drinks, and she watched with an air of curiosity and a clear lack of concern for the safety of the poor dumb bastard behind the bar as Klaus lunged for him, dragging him half up over the bar without batting an eyeball. She couldn’t resist the urge to brush against his aura, the particular energies that wrapped through him and around him, but even still there was … only more questions, for the effort, her clove brought to her lips to take a drag from it, as she watched him, flicking her ashes into the brass ashtray molded into the countertop.

Her gaze turned up towards Klaus’, as he indicated that he would be taking care of her drinks, that gaining more of a reaction than his sudden outburst, a mischievous smile touching her lips as he released the bartender and turned at least part of his attention back towards her. ”Someone who knows what they want – and isn’t afraid to make it clear; I like that. It’s a trait all too easily lost in the confines of the laws of the land and politeness, if you ask me. Men are expected to be assertive, but only to the point that it might not offend anyone’s sensibilities, while women are expected to be the perfect combination of the wilting wallflower, the homemaker suzy, and the jezebel, all wrapped up in a pretty little package that opens their own doors. It’s all… pompous ceremony.” Dakota shrugged, her gaze turning from Klaus to study the club around them and the people that filled it, milling about, oblivious still, even in the midst of some of the most eye-opening eras of the world to the power that lurked around them, behind them, above them, waiting to be snatched, or to snatch them up.

”No matter what we choose to call it, or what labels we wish to define the world and the people in it with, it all boils down to the three basic things that every man and woman needs to survive: drink, food, and propagation of the species. We may call ourselves civilized, but if you ask me, we’re not really all that different from the cavemen that beat their chests and ravaged their way through pleasures and survival alike – we just like to pretend it isn’t so.” Her tone was idle, almost distracted, as she stared at the crowd, the weave of them, the pattern of them, delving in and out of the crowd, off of the dance floor, in time and against the beat of the music. It was intoxicating, for a moment, the odd feeling that came with the downward tug of the crash that threatened, before she forced her gaze away, her lips pursing briefly as she snapped her eyes back towards Klaus, her lips settling into a smile again, languid and eager in the same moment. ”Better to be ignorant out of idiocy than choice, though so – at least he’s got that going for him.” She replied dryly.

Klaus wasn't exactly used to being told 'no', but he was entirely used to the adverse
reactions people seemed to have to his general presence. The adverse reactions
tended to be the ones that spurned him on to do something impulsive, which was
entirely in his nature and always had been. He chuckled darkly about her words
about masochism. “I've been told I'm more of a sadist, so...” he commented
in a teasingly low tone, letting the end of the comment hang in the air. He tilted his
head slightly as he considered her description of Ragnarok. “Techno chic? That's
certainly a new one on me,” he began in reply. “It certainly attracts all
kinds of people, unsavoury and otherwise,” he added, smirking as he
observed her again. “So, am I walking that particular tightrope?” he
questioned, raising an eyebrow slightly. Wherever this girl had come from, it felt like
a shame he had never experienced her before now. She was somewhat of an
absolute delight for him. He tilted his head slightly, taking an intentional slow and
deep breath to appreciate the smell of the smoke for a moment.

He laughed lightly at her next words, shifting in his seat slightly. “Oh, I certainly
know all about the monsters, sweetheart,” he said, smirking knowingly.
“But that begs the question as to why you know about them...” he
added, letting his comment drift at the end, raising an eyebrow in her direction. His
good mood snapped off quickly only to be recovered just as quickly when he
released the bartender again, settling back into his seat. He side glanced at Dakota,
anticipating a certain reaction, but seeing that of an opposite one to what he had
expected, instantly noting the mischievous look on her face, which simply brought
the smirk back to his own, particularly when she started to speak. “I told you I
was a bit of a sadist,” he teased before tilting his head slightly, considering
briefly what to say next, chuckling darkly. “Who said anything about me
being polite?” he quirked. “And I'm certainly assertive to the point of
impulse,” he commented, shifting his hand to the back of Dakota's seat again.

He followed her gaze around the room, considering the last part of her mini speech.
“Oh, some are certainly prettier little packages than others,” he noted in
a low, teasing tone as he turned back to Dakota, his eyes now mirroring the
mischievous look she had previously regarded him with. “Labels are definitely
overrated,” he commented briefly before considering a further response. “It's
in the nature of every species to survive, but that should never be
mistaken for being civilised,” he went on, smirking slightly. “There's a
very fine line between pleasure and survival. Either way, it's got to be
rather carnal for it to hold any true baring,” he offered as he leant
towards her slightly again. “Anyone who says otherwise is either a fool
or a liar,” he finished, chuckling darkly again. He rolled his eyes slightly
at the talk of the bartender, unable to fight the childish urge. “He certainly
responds well to aggravation and violence, at least – it's rather
Neanderthalic,” he commented offhandedly.

Speaking of Neanderthals, the bartender was finally returning with their drinks, his
hands noticeably shaking as he settled the glasses in the bar in front of them. Klaus
smirked cruelly at the young man. “Bravo, he does know how to respond
to simple instructions,” he commented snarkily, his mind adding the reiteration
of how he responded well to acts of violence as well. “Now, be a good boy and
bring me and this lovely lady a set of shots – any spirits that your
clumsy hands so settle on,” he ordered, waving his hand in gesture for
him to get on with it. He knew he was being rather callous and slightly brutish in his
instructions, but, sometimes, that was the only way to get people to respond. He
turned to Dakota again, his smile playing across his features again, a slightly proper
one this time, catching a glimpse of his slightly dimpled face in the mirror behind the
bar as he turned to her, his fingers wrapping carefully around his glass before lifting
it up slightly. “Finally,” he said briefly before taking a sizeable gulp of
his drink.

Dakota’s lips pursed into another smirk, seemingly the expression that she was going to be favoring through the course of the night if these few minutes exchange was any indication, as he spoke again, her chocolate and caramel hued gaze wandering over him freely as he let his words drift off. The inner edge of a brow crept upwards in amusement and a challenge in the same moment then, a low and slightly husky laugh drifting from her lips. ”Now you’re just being a tease,” She countered his words with, a shoulder rising and drifting down in a languid shrug to accompany the idle commentary, her mouth shifting into a full on momentary smile at his question that followed. ”Oh, I think that remains to be seen, don’t you?” She returned, her fingertips sliding up to press the clove to her lips, taking in a long drag, letting the smoke roll heavily around her tongue and cheeks before letting it escape in a few vague wisps that curled through the air before drifting past them and dissipating, leaving only the sweet and spicy scent lingering behind. ”Mmmm.” She murmured, vaguely at first, as he questioned how she knew about the monsters, a lazy chuckle rolling from her throat, her gaze sparkling with amusement as she studied him, appreciating the irony of that coming from… whatever it was, exactly, that he was.

”Shouldn’t the question be, how do you know that I’m not one of them?” She questioned, her head tilting towards her shoulder, the thick curls drifting at an offset angle in an echo of the motion, stark and silken against the bright white and spotless jacket that wrapped around her arms and chest. His responses to her social commentary, as odd as it might have seemed to most, made her lips curl with a smirk again, her head drifting back a little to watch him from under the long lashes that framed her eyes, drinking in every shift of his skin, taut across his muscles, each change in expression, the feral expression that darkened his features as he turned away from the bartender serving only to stir her own sense of satisfaction and interest, rather than stirring any shreds of common sense in most that might have told them that this would have been the better opportunity of the night to make a retreat: while they could. ”So you keep telling me,” She taunted lightly, at his mention of sadistic tendencies once again, letting him form his thoughts over the next few moments, her lithe frame settling back in the high stool that she sat in to idly lean against the hand and forearm that rested on the back of her chair, watching him, letting her gaze trail over the slight blurs of the aura left in the wake of his movements, as he glanced around the club, behind the bar, and then back at her again.

The scent of him was as alluring as the rest of him, she was pleased to note, as it teased against her as the space between them lessened. One long leg crossed over the other at the knee, one hand settling over the bend of her knee, the other hand settled easily against the edge of the bar, shifting only to flick the gold leaf and black paper wrapped clove against the ashtray, or to bring that same clove to her lips. ”Politeness and civility are overrated,” She responded, then, after he had let his thoughts settle and form, and fall from his lips, a toss of her head to nudge her hair out of her face as she looked up towards him then, her gaze sliding along his jaw, and lips, and finally up towards his eyes as he leaned even closer. ”Society tells us to repress our inner animal, our instinct and our sense of self because we are meant to conform, and the more distinctive, the more individual any person is, the harder it is to force them into the narrow walls of existence that they say we should be content in – to push the boundaries, to bend the rules, to seek and relish in those things that make us… different, unique, to listen to the little voice that whispers in our ear that it is still a world of kill or be killed, take or be taken… it makes us dangerous, even those in this world that are… merely mortal.” Her hand rose from her knee, to catch her drink that was set down, her gaze turning to study the bartender who scurried back to catch hold of a pair of shot glasses and quickly set to filling them with a clear alcohol, vodka, she surmised from the half visible label of the bottle. Her lips curled upwards, as she took a long sip of her drink, her head tilting to the side as she studied the bartender, absorbing his image into her mind’s eye and then, with a gentle nudge of the magic at her disposal, it shifted.

Just slightly, and only for a few moments, long enough for the tender to scramble back with the drinks, unaware of the alterations to his image; his facial features made heavy and apish, a unibrow in place of his naturally divided ones, his hair stringy and thick, his brow heavy, his lips fat and pudgy, his posture shifted forward and bulky. A Neanderthal, in build and appearance, his knuckles and fingers overly hairy and enlarged, which was the first and only thing that he seemed to notice after he set the shot glasses down in front of the pair, which envoked a wide eyed gasp and a jerking, half stumbling step back, but by the time that he looked back to his hands, they were merely as they always had been, the glamour having faded away without a trace, as quickly as it had come. Dakota played oblivious, a look cast towards the bartender of annoyance at his reaction to the apparent ‘nothing’, trading her half empty martini glass for the shot left in front of her, ignoring the bartender and looking back to Klaus as she raised her shot glass towards him, for a toast. ”And what, then, Klaus, shall we drink to?” She questioned, with a self satisfied and well amused expression on her features.

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Klaus smiled quite broadly at her words for a moment before letting the smile
quickly slide away from his face as he then went on to response to what she had
said. “Am I?” he questioned, trying to keep his tone genuinely curious sounding,
although, he had had obviously more than enough time to realise when he was
being a tease. That being said, he certainly had a lot of practice at it as well. “I
don't know what you mean,” he added, in an equally as innocent tone, although,
the mischievous smirk returning to shape the corners of his mouth upwards
obviously proved the opposite of his tone of voice. He chuckled briefly at her
question, tilting his head briefly before straightening it back up again. “I guess so,”
he answered gently, his smirk softening into a slight smile. He somewhat reflexively
inhaled again as the smell of the delicious smoke that left her mouth filled the air
around them both again. It was an awfully enjoyable scent, so he couldn't really
help himself.

He laughed ever so briefly before speaking. “Touché,” he responded simply. He
smirked at her words, not voicing any more of his own as his icy, somewhat
calculating gaze shifted to her back as it settled comfortably against her arm. As
much as she may know about monsters, she obviously didn't seem to have any
inkling towards what kind of monster he was, which, he supposed, served a greater
purpose to leading him closer to getting what he wanted. A mischievous smirk
settled across his lips at her words. “Oh, absolutely,” he returned in a very low,
slightly amused tone. He became a little conscious of every little movement he made
as he watched her chocolatey coloured eyes playing over his features before she
finally met his gaze and spoke again, the devilish smile on his lips meeting his icy
blue eyes as she did. She clearly had a lot of thought about what society dictated
and had formed a very valid opinion of her own, one that she clearly hold strong to
as the words seemed to fall so easily from her mouth.

“If that's the case, I must be one of society's worst nightmares then,” he
offered by way of a response, his tone remaining as low as before as his words
played over his own lips. “I hate repressing myself, I detest conformity and
it's certainly very difficult to contain me,” he began in explanation, skipping
the detail of concept of the 'inner animal' as most would simply regard him as an
animal anyway. “Boundaries are definitely meant to be pushed to their
extremes and rules are certainly meant to be broken, not merely bent,
love,” he continued, leaning ever so slightly closer to Dakota, pushing a whole
different boundary of personal space. “I certainly prefer to kill, prefer to
take...” He hesitated briefly as a renewed smirk spread across his features. “And I
certainly agree – some mortals can prove more dangerous than the
monsters,” he finished before leaning back away from her again, taking another
long sip of his drink, emptying the glass as he waited for the bartender to return.

As his gaze shifted from Dakota to the returning bartender, he couldn't help but
laugh ever so briefly and sharply at the new appearance of the other guy. He let his
expression fall blank when the guy seemed to falter as he took in parts of his
distorted appearance, shrugging slightly as the bartender seemed to look between
himself and Dakota, simply pushing his empty glass towards the guy for him to pick
up as he left them again. He smiled again as he picked up his own glass and turned
to Dakota as the bartender shuffled off to refill his glass. “Your handiwork, I
presume?” he questioned with light, amused laugh. He took an ever so brief
moment to consider what they could drink to before lifting his glass a little higher,
positioning it opposite hers. “To the monsters and the mortals,” he began,
sitting a little straighter in his seat, his grip on the back of hers adjusting slightly as
he twisted towards her. “May they ever live in disharmony,” he added, finishing
the toast as he tapped his glass gently against hers and knocking it back.

He placed the now empty, little glass back on the bar before him, somewhat cold
eyes focused on it for a moment as his tongue played slowly over the liquid that had
fallen across his bottom lip. He slouched back in his seat slightly, his head falling
back naturally as he savoured the fresh, slightly sharp liquor that was now coursing
through various parts of his system. He wasn't entirely sure that it agreed with his
usual drink of choice, but he couldn't deny that it certainly came with a delightful
little buzz. His head lazily fell to the side to let his icy blue gaze fall upon the
delicious looking, young lady beside him again, the self confident and utterly devilish
smirk returning to his mouth as his eyes drank in her entire form for a moment
before he finally found his words again. “Another?” he inquired playfully, although,
also presenting it as a sort of challenge, wondering just how far he could push this
new little play thing of his. Tonight was going to be a good night, even if he had to
get her entirely drunk first.

Dakota’s dark chocolate hued eyes danced with a delicious sort of amusement at his expression, at the shifts in it and his voice, at the way that his gaze traveled over her briefly, even as he attempted to claim innocence – she had to wonder if he even remembered what it was to be that, god knows she didn’t and she had a feeling he’d had a lot more turns and twists down the dark side than she had. Which was also saying something. ”Oh, no, of course not.” She agreed amicably, mockingly assuring him that she believed his claim though rather pointedly not. Her gaze wandered around him in turn, idly, the tip of her tongue moistening her lips a little, savoring the slight sting of the taste of the cinnamon that lingered on her lips, before her gaze drifted back up to meet his as he spoke of what sort of monster he may or may not be, entirely contradicting his earlier declaration. ”Mm. You just might be,” She agreed, her words almost purred with the sense of satisfaction that often came from the cat who’d gotten the extra helping of cream for dinner, her lips curled into an alluring smile as she studied him through another lazy exhale of smoke.

His response to her words, to her debate, to the closest thing that she held to a philosophy or a religion made her satisfaction grow, her breath hitching in her throat for a moment as he curled in sinfully close to her, close enough that she was all too tempted to interrupt his words by closing that most minimal of distance by pressing her lips to his… but she restrained herself, despite the surge of desire that spiked in her and caused her stomach to clench tightly and her heart to pound a little harder in her chest. ”Even your rules?” She questioned, her head tilting upwards to let her meet his gaze more evenly, ”Or do you have any?” She added, after he stated the last of his preferences, a low and throaty laugh slipping from her then. ”That entirely depends,” Dakota replied after the bartender had hastily reated, one corner of dusky rose lips tilting upwards as she spoke. ”Did you like?” She questioned, despite the fact that she was certain he had, given his own reaction. She wasn’t above flaunting her work, and digging for compliments. She liked attention, and playing the coy wallflower was not in her vocabulary.

”I’ll drink to that.” She confirmed, after he settled on a toast, her glass raised to clink lightly with his before it found her lips, the shot tossed back with well practiced ease. A low sound of pleasure escaped, as she let out a soft sigh and licked her lips again, her gaze studying the empty shot glass briefly before looking back up towards Klaus. ”Screw a trail of breadcrumbs. I learned a long time ago that leaving little seeds of chaos in my wake is a much more … enjoyable way to find my way back home.” She declared, with a smirk, setting her glass down beside his on the bar top. ”Oh, I don’t generally believe in saying no,” She replied without hesitation to his question and challenge, her tone casual despite the clear implications. She didn’t know exactly what he was, but she doubted that even a human would have missed the signals of attraction between them, and he was anything but. Which did, of course, leave that question lingering in her thoughts as she leaned back again, nestling against his hand and arm that still braced across the back of her chair. Her empty hand rose, to gesture for the bartender to scurry forward and top off their shot glasses again, her head tilting back to study Klaus once more.

”I must admit though… I know what I am.” She began, her tone lilting and casual so as to not draw the attention of any of those around them, low enough that in the murmur and chaos of the club it would be kept within their very small bubble of space. ”And I’m fairly certain you know what I am, or at least… have your fair amount of suspicion,” She conceded, her clove brought again to her lips to let her take a long drag from it before pulling it free, and letting the smoke roll around her tongue and cheeks for a long moment before she continued. ”But this rather leaves you on top – of the situation, I mean.” She said, with a gesture of a hand as if to clarify her point, an impish glitter in her gaze that her seemingly serious expression didn’t quite match up with. ”And while that is not always a bad thing…. There are times that I prefer to have the upper… hand,” She continued. ”Or at least… an even … playing field,” she suggested, ”which leaves me in the most unusual of circumstances, by having to pose the question of, what, exactly, are you?” She said, her head tilting back and to the side just enough to rest lightly against his upper arm. ”I’ve come across a lot of things in my… short life, but you… “ The words trailed off, her lips pursing briefly as her gaze roamed his body once more. ”It isn’t often that I have the pleasure of finding something… unique.” She finished, then, her eyes wandering slowly back up towards his.

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Klaus chuckled darkly at her words, tilting his head from one side to the other as he
shifted his gaze between her and his drink again. He smirked as he heard her breath
hitch in her throat, tilting his head slightly as he observed her from the closer
vantage point, holding his restraint a little better than she seemed to be. “Even my
rules,” he repeated in response before chuckling darkly again as Dakota continued
to speak. “I have a few, but I don't think they're anything you need to
worry about...” he added in a subtle kind of comment, letting it hang in the air
between them, not wishing to expand on the comment any. “So what you're
saying is that if I didn't like it, you didn't do it?” he questioned, almost
rhetorically as he laughed, although, it was low enough that it could have been
mistaken for a low growl. “But on this occasion, I did like,” he replied, a little
more seriously, although, his self confident smirk was still settled on his face.

It was apparent that this girl seemed to thrive on compliments and he certainly had
plenty of those up his sleeves, but he seemed to be doing alright so far without
using very many of them. He smiled broadly at her as their glassed clinked together
and they both knocked back the drinks. “Oh, that's certainly the best way for
some people,” he began in response, considering his next words for a brief
moment. “Although, mine tends to be more of a trail of where not to go
back to,” he went on, casually resting his elbow on the bar top and placing his chin
on his upturned hand. “If I'm leaving a trail, it's to remind myself that I'm
not welcome,” he finished with a dark chuckle. It was something close to the
truth. He didn't have a tendency of leaving a trail that pointed directly towards
himself. He had a reputation of sorts to uphold, after all. He laughed, a sound that
was on the very tipping point between playful and devious, at her words about not
believing in saying no.

“A wonderful little philosophy,” he commented in a low mutter. He had a
feeling he knew exactly what she was hinting at, but he wasn't going to rise to that,
not just yet anyway. He took his eyes off of her again as the bartender dealt with
their empty glasses, smirking slightly as he remembered the guy's previous
appearance. “You might want to just fetch a few more glass, mate, it'll save
you a few trips,” he offered, trying to sound helpful, but, of course, playing to his
own need for more liquor. His gaze slowly shifted back onto Dakota as she began
speaking again, already knowing where her little change of topic would be going.
“Oh, I certainly think I do and rhymes with 'bitch', right?” he asked in a
teasing question. He knew he could easily get away with saying the word out loud,
but it was much more entertaining for him to work around the subject a little. The
alternative rhyming word also clearly expressed his current opinion of witches. He
hadn't held them high in his overall varying opinions for some time now.

A broad, positively devilish grin spread across his face as she commented how it left
him on top. “That's just the way I like it,” he responded coyly just as she half
corrected her own statement. “Where's the fun in letting you have the upper
hand? I like being the advantageous one,” he commented, chuckling darkly as
his eyes played over her again. He certainly knew all about taking advantage,
particularly of other people, and why he hadn't actually taken advantage of Dakota
yet all just seemed to be part of his usual ploy to get what he wanted. He tilted his
head and bit at the inside of his bottom lip teasingly as he considered her question
for a moment. “Oh, I'm a little bit of this, little bit of that...you look like the
kind of girl that would much rather work it out for herself...” he offered
cryptically, smirk settled delightfully across his mouth. “A pleasure indeed,” he
responded simply, letting out a soft breath as he leant back towards her again. “I
certainly do tick a few boxes of weird and wonderful, don't I?”

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath of her scent from his extremely close
vantage point before opening his eyes again and leaning back towards a more
central point of his own seat, his hand still resting on the back of her seat as she
leant against it. He used his free hand to lift another shot glass, side glancing
Dakota for a moment before knocking it back, quickly followed by another. He
cleared his throat briefly before he finally spoke again. “By my count, that makes
you a few behind,” he commented in a dangerously low tone before knocking
back a third, thankful the bartender had continued to listen to his instructions by
lining up a few more of the little glasses across the bar top in front of the
dysfunctional pairing. He knocked back a fourth, leaving him with one glass of his
own to empty, some of the liquid rolling over his lip to be quickly caught up by his
tongue. There was no point wasting any of it – he had that sort of philosophy for all
sorts of things, although, that generally centred around blood and booze.

”Mmm, then I shall consider all rules from this point forward breakable,” Dakota replied, with a curl of her lips upwards as she let her eyes wander over the room around them, taking in the flow and thrum of the crowd and the beat of the music that echoed through her bones. A low laugh slipped from her, at the comment about her glamour, her gaze sliding up to meet his then as her head angled back a little, tossing her hair out of her face as she smirked at him. ”Yes, rather, that’s actually exactly what I’m saying,” She replied dryly. She wasn’t ashamed to admit that when it came to taking credit where credit was due, she really only preferred to do so when it actually benefited her in some way – when such credit might end up someone’s wrath or displeasure? She’d pass, thank you. Her fingers slid, plucking the end of the filter and pressing it to her lips for one last drag before she leaned forward a little, her gaze dropping down towards the ashtray on the counter, watching the haze of the smoke on her breath mingle with the dying embers of the black wrapped clove as she crushed it out, the thin paper and cotton filter crumpling under the pressure of her fingertips. Her hand fell away from the filter, her hand falling back to rest on the bend of knee, her other hand curled around the shot glass that she had recently emptied, twisting it idly back and forth against the countertop.

Her smirk deepened as he spoke of his trails, her mind painting no small number of images about what sort of trails she could imagine him leaving, and while some of the details might vary from one to the next, the paths all had one thing in common – bloody swaths. It was clear, even if she could not quite determine what it was that he was, what parts and pieces made him up, that nine out of ten parts were predator. She just wished she could determine what those parts were actually made out of. ”And what do you do when you’ve run out of places that you can go back to?” She questioned, a brow tilting upwards to mirror her inner curiosity, her lips lingering in a faint smirk. ”As far as philosophy goes, Klaus, I think that the point of life, no matter how long you may or may not have to live it, is to enjoy it, and how often do you find pleasure when no is all that you know how to say?” She inquired, her fingers slipping free of the shot glass as the bartender hurried over to take away the empties, and scurry off to refill a dozen or so to lay out in rows along the bar at Klaus’ not quite actual suggestion. She chuckled, again, shaking her head at the fretful and panicked actions of the little man, her hand drifting upwards to rub against the bridge of her nose, rubbing at the dull ache of her pulse behind her skin, a throbbing sensation that was in rhythm with her pulse and the beat of the music, as if for a moment they were competing for control in her flesh.

Her lashes drifted closed as her fingers rubbed against her forehead, before it too fell away, her eyes opening to look up towards Klaus as he confirmed what he thought she was, a dry and low chuckle slipping from her, a small shake of her head as she lounged back idly. ”Mm. Handsome, and witty too,” She replied, her tone that of a mingling of sarcasm and dry humor, the rhyming jest all too familiar to her, heard more times than she would care to imagine or remember. ”Sadly, one has become all too synonymous for the other – but then again, little else has the capability to so very avidly carry out the wrath of a woman scorned, either, so I suppose it’s a fair enough … substitution,” She agreed, with an idle shrug. ”And why, I wonder, does that not surprise me?” she questioned, as Klaus confirmed to her that he much preferred being on top – she imagined in more ways than one, or rather, even, all of them. He seemed most definitely the alpha personality – domineering rather than the type that preferred to be dominated. She wasn’t always so particular, hers tended to adjust to fit the mood and the moment, and she had learned being able to adapt to the wants of the other party tended to bring a greater amount of satisfaction and pleasure to both, in the end. The problem, in this particular situation, though… is that while he was an alpha personality, she very much doubted that he wanted someone to roll over and play dead.

The problem was finding the thin line. The balance between push and pull. ”I’m the kind of girl that likes a lot of things – what makes you so certain you know what they all are?” She asked, with a smirk. As he leaned in towards her, she felt her body throb, again, a shuddered breath drawn inwards, her head tilting up to allow, just lightly, her cheek and jaw to tease against his scruffled jaw as he breathed her in, a low sound of anticipation slipping from her lips. She could feel the heat of him, and her hand drifted upwards, her fingertips grazing along the underside of his jaw, nails teasing through the scruff just so, the strong surge of his heartbeat tantalizing under the surface of his skin. ”A few, yes,” she echoed, her hand falling away, trailing from his jaw to one of the shot glasses, dragging it up to her lips and tossing it back quickly, the burn a satisfying contrast to the sudden parched sensation in her throat, her gaze dark and hungry as she studied him, licking the excess from her lips before swapping out the glass for a full, her gaze meeting his. ”And what if I wanted something… stronger?” She questioned, watching him, gauging his reaction.

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Klaus smirked at her question, considering it for a moment before he spoke again.
“I just go back to the beginning and start again – chances are most
people would have been dead and gone by the time it came to that,” he
responded. “And I haven't exactly had to do that yet, so I think I must be
doing something right,” he added with a slight wink. The fact of the matter was
he wasn't too bothered if people did recognise him. He didn't really visit the same
place twice – with the exception of, say, most of England and Chicago...and Mystic
Falls. He tilted his head as he observed her, allowing her the opportunity to speak
again. “Oh, absolutely and I certainly know how to do that,” he responded
coyly, his smirk broadening. Him enjoying himself was generally the top thing on his
personal agenda. If he wasn't scheming something, he was out to enjoy himself –
that was just how it worked for him. “Never say never and all that,” he added,
somewhat offhandedly.

“Getting a headache already?” he teased in question as he noticed her closing
her eyes and rubbing the bridge of her nose suddenly. He chuckled slightly at her
perception of him. “Why, thank you. I certainly try,” he responded with a coy
little wink. He wasn't going to shy away from a compliment. Although, the fact of
the matter was that he was naturally handsome and generally quite talented with
his manner of wit, so for neither of those elements did he truly have to 'try'. “And
there was me thinking I was a surprising kind of guy,” he responded, mock
pouting at Dakota. Oh, how little she knew if she thought there was something
about him that she could just completely point blank guess, something important
that she could just tell from looking at him or whatever. She might be a brilliant
witch for all he knew, but he imagined that she would still not be able to pick up on
a lot of the more significant things about him without him divulging the information
to her.

He half shrugged at her before he brought himself to speak once again. “Because
I know a lot of things, love,” he answered rather simply, feeling it was the best
kind of response to what she had said. “And I'm rather intrigued by discovery
and all that,” he added, a renewed smirk spreading across his features. He had
been around for a very long time, that was true, but he was still enjoying the
various paths of discovery that his life seemed to take him on from time to time.
That being said, nothing truly surprised him any more, which was more than a little
disappointing at times. “Aren't you?” he questioned, somewhat rhetorically, in a
rather low and dangerous kind of tone, having a feeling that Dakota really was the
kind of girl that liked that sort of thing. She might not be able to put a true gauge
on him, but he was already building one on her. It was all too easy and he had
come across far too many people in his life time that he couldn't find people easy to
read.

He smirked slightly as she brushed her cheek against his, his eyes closing as he
listened to and revelled in the varying, completely honest reactions of her body in
the very close vicinity of his own. A low growl rumbled in his throat as she ran her
nails under his jaw, eyes opening once again as she moved her hand away in order
to pick up a drink. He eyed her carefully, weighing the options he had to hand as
she took a drink and picked up another glass. His eyes not shifting from hers, he
took the glass from her hand in order to knock the drink back himself. “Oh, I think
that can be arranged, sweetheart,” he began in response, his tongue playing
over his bottom lip to remove the droplets of alcohol that were settled there again.
“And it's definitely something that'll handle that headache of yours,” he
finished, leaning towards her again before getting up from his seat and turning
away in order to head towards and through one of the 'private' doors in the back of
the club.

It was not at all surprising to Dakota that the ‘gentleman’ admitted to returning to places long after the people he’d known before were dead – the fun part was letting her imagination wander about and guess at just how many times something like that was done by his own hand, and how often it was simply the natural course of living, and dying that he was referring to. Any idiot could see that he was dangerous, the question was, and to her, the only question that mattered, was would he be a danger to her, and though he clearly had his own opinion about what witches meant to him, there wasn’t anything about him that screamed clear and present danger. Well… relevant danger, at least. She wasn’t foolish enough to think that she was impervious to all danger that might come her way, but she had, in her opinion at least, the capacity to read those of the supernatural ilk fairly well. If he was the type that wanted to kill her, she would probably already be dead, or the type that she’d never see coming. Not all that different from the Sheriff, come to think of it. ”Yes – I do imagine that you do,” She returned, with a smirk as he claimed to have cornered the market on self-indulgence. Then again, it wasn’t all that hard to let her imagination wander on about the many ways in which he could… indulge…

”Don’t worry, love, I’m not the type that lets a little… pain… interfere in my fun,” She responded, her tone dry and heavy with implications as she let her hand fall away, as he commented on the pang of pain that she’d felt, her lips easily finding themselves settled into a pleased smirk at his clearly arrogant but well-deserved appreciation of her compliments. She imagined he got a lot of them, probably even from those that he was in the process of destroying – she had to wonder if they even saw it coming, or if he was one of those types that was more than capable of merging business with pleasure, and leaving the person guessing as to whether they’d just been nearly seduced, or threatened with destruction of life and limb. Somehow, the latter would not surprise her at all.

Her lips curled, as he hovered near her, her lashes sinking downwards as she drank in the scent of him, dark and alluring, even as the low sound of the growl that echoed through her chest set her stomach to tightening, surging with the particular mingle of pleasure and fear that she had come to appreciate all the more in the last few years of her life. There was something about the particular rush of adrenaline and endorphins that created a sense of heightened sensation that nothing else could truly reproduce. ”Mm, I think I like the sound of that,” She murmured, speaking both of his own reaction to her touch, and to his words, her head tilted up to watch his as he snagged her shot and downed it, her gaze following the movement of his tongue and lips, a low sound of anticipation and pleasure escaping in a half breath as she watched him.

She was on her feet, even as he stood, her bag slung over her shoulder as she slipped after him, quite content to let him lead the way, and not all that surprised when he crossed the threshold into the ‘private’ aka employees doors towards the back.

ooc; sorry it didn’t move forward much but I wasn’t sure where he would be leading her, etc. so feel free to move ahead to wherever / whatever, feel free to move her about, etc.