Whoever Ishmael pretended to be, he was still a vampire, in the end; he had plenty of acquaintances, useful contacts, flirtations, but not many friends. And they could be any of those other things, but friends was unlikely. He might have liked to know this young man’s story. It was almost a shame.
“Both, then,” Ishmael said, pleased. “Come with me – I know somewhere.” The bar he had checked out before was safe tonight – they could get a private room at the back, and Ishmael could pick up a friendly blood bank at the bar and bring him. (To see if it would scare this new friend off, maybe, while he watched; or whether it might lure him in.)
He pressed a hand up to the other man’s shoulder to steer him around on the street, and if he let his fingers trail down his arm following it, it was because he thought he could get away with a little friendliness here, however much this was business. “Your superior never gave me your name,” he added, prompting, eyeing him curiously as they walked; it oughtn’t matter, really – Malik was not his – but still, he was greedy to know anything he could about this man.
“Both, then,” Ishmael said, pleased. “Come with me – I know somewhere.” The bar he had checked out before was safe tonight – they could get a private room at the back, and Ishmael could pick up a friendly blood bank at the bar and bring him. (To see if it would scare this new friend off, maybe, while he watched; or whether it might lure him in.)
He pressed a hand up to the other man’s shoulder to steer him around on the street, and if he let his fingers trail down his arm following it, it was because he thought he could get away with a little friendliness here, however much this was business. “Your superior never gave me your name,” he added, prompting, eyeing him curiously as they walked; it oughtn’t matter, really – Malik was not his – but still, he was greedy to know anything he could about this man.
