A Different Kind of Vampire

Who: Jocelyn and Jericho
Where: Babylon
When: Tuesday evening

With it being a fairly slow night, for her at least, Jocelyn took advantage of the quiet time to wander down into the bar area to do a bit of people watching for a bit. The storm outside had been going on for most of the day, but it didn't seem to deter people from leaving the dry confines of their home and getting a drink at Babylon. The conversations were quiet, however, as if the weather had dulled most. Thunder rumbled outside as she walked through the room toward the bar, greeting a few people on her way. Her eyes searched for Val briefly before she took a seat at the end of the bar. A glass of cranberry juice was set in front of her almost instantly, to which she thanked the bartender on duty before shifting and settling her chin in her palm to look around at who was there. A few familiar faces, some new ones. It was always interesting to see what kind of patronage a storm like this one brought into the place.

Jericho left his house shortly after sunset. Although he'd just been there the night before, he decided to visit Babylon again, for a multitude of reasons. The weather was crappy, not much of a night for a walk outdoors even though the rain had stopped. The night before had been eventful. He'd been jumped in an alley by, of all things, another vampire. Then running into, of all people, Jace Barton. Seeing Konnor again after all these years. The bizarre turn of events with Jace in the early morning hours. He was still scratching his head over that one. Then, not surprisingly, he'd had a fitful day's sleep. Training a new assistant. Amanda Jenkins' complete bitch of a mother. Dealing with contractors, and furniture and computer vendors in an effort to get George's office space set up quickly.

Jericho was in sore need of some serious recreation to blow off all that stress.

And then there was, of course, the added attraction of perhaps running into the vampire who'd accosted him, Valentin. Curiosity was getting the better of him, and Jericho was determined to find out the truth. He was having a difficult time believing the dark-haired vampire was indeed a Faryngael. He simply seemed too crass, unrefined. If Valentin was of his bloodline, Jericho was very grateful to have been born of a sire who followed the Once Ways, taking great care in selecting and screening those to be turned, taking time to train them up properly, polishing them. It was becoming rarer, though, an unfortunate reflection of the times.

However...if Valentin was not one of the kindred, why the farce? What could possibly be gained by pretending to be of another bloodline, and specifically the Faryngael? It made no rational sense, particularly when there were ways to easily determine the truth. Jericho was intrigued.

Clearing his mind as he drove through the streets of Marquette, he soon located Babylon. Thankfully, it was in a much nicer neighborhood this time; not a seedy, dirty alley in sight. Jericho parked the Porsche and entered the club.

Sipping her drink, Jocelyn glanced up briefly when someone else entered the bar. She studied his face for a moment. She hadn't seen him in there before, but then again, her trips to the bar were less frequent as of late. Vampire, she figured, by the length of his fangs. Sometimes she was wrong, but that tell was fairly obvious. And, like with most new people she spotted in Babylon, she wondered what his story was. What he was doing in Marquette, why he was there. Jocelyn had tried on several occasions to get over her curious nature, but it seemed to have taken root inside of her as a child and refused to release it's hold. It was why she was working there. Why she was estranged from her family. And why she'd allow someone like Valentin Devereux to kiss her. It didn't always make sense in her head, but it was there, regardless.

Jocelyn watched the nameless patron walk through the bar, only vaguely aware that she was staring as the same old questions ran through her head.

As he strode across the room toward the bar, Jericho removed his leather and slung it over one shoulder. It wasn't at all crowded; due the storm, he presumed. He probably wouldn't have ventured out himself had the past twenty-four hours not been so intensive. A smile and polite nod greeted several familiar faces, none of whom he'd choose to keep company with tonight (and in the case of the morbidly obese female werewolf, on any other night, for that matter). Approaching the bar, he couldn't help but notice the pretty brunette woman staring at him. Or perhaps through him, he couldn't tell which. Her expression was a vacant sort of stare, the kind when the wheels in your head are turning and you're only sort of half aware of what you're actually looking at.

Jericho smiled, reached into one of his trouser pockets and pulled something out. He set the shiny penny down on the smooth, wooden bar top and slid it toward the young woman.

Jocelyn blinked, sort of snapping out of her daze as the man reached into his pocket and placed something on the bar top. Her cheeks burned slightly as she realized she'd been caught staring, even if that hadn't been her intention. Looking down, she saw the penny he was sliding toward her and she hid her grin behind the glass she lifted to her mouth. "Clever," she told him, once she'd licked the taste from her lips. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stare. You just happened to be in my line of vision before my thoughts sort of took over everything else." She picked up the penny from the bar, however, and kept it. She used her free hand and offered it to him. "Jocelyn."

"Jericho," he said as he gently took her hand to shake it. "Always nice to meet another 'J'." The bartender stepped up to take Jericho's order. He quickly ordered an imported merlot, then turned his attention back to the woman. What brings you out in this nasty weather?"

Merlot. That was interesting. He looked like the merlot type. Jocelyn arched a delicate eyebrow, considering his question. She could tell him she worked at Babylon. Lived there too. But that would open the doors to more questions that she didn't really feel like answering at the moment. "Boredom," she replied with a smile. It was a truthful answer, more or less. "What about you?"

"Bad day at the office," he replied, lifting the glass to his face, swirling the ruby-red wine and inhaling its aroma, "which happens to be in my house. I needed a change of scenery."

She knew how that felt, when your living arrangements and employment coincided. It was why she was constantly trying to get out for even the simplest things like taking a walk. Occasionally she needed that kind of break from the entire environment. "Well, you certainly came to the right place, I think. What is it you do?"

The vampire chuckled. "This is the part where you'll clam up and stop talking to me. I'm a psychiatrist."

Jocelyn stared at him for a moment before she finally allowed herself to laugh. A vampire who was a psychiatrist. Bizarre. Or at least, she assumed he was a vampire. It was a safe assumption, she figured. She shook her head and wrapped her fingers around her drink. "I don't think psychiatrists are as bad as everyone thinks. You would think people would be overly chatty with you in a bar, away from business hours. Getting their brains picked for free and everything."

Jericho took another small sniff of his wine. "Actually, it's usually the opposite effect. They don't want to accidentally spill any of their"—he lowered his voice, mock-ominously—"deep, dark secrets. As if any of them would shock me," he added with a smile. "How about you?"

"See, now I would love to be a psychiatrist. I love trying to figure people out. I want to know the deep, dark secrets. It's a sickness, really," she admitted with a smile before taking a drink from her glass. "Me? I work in customer service." Another truthful answer, really. Sort of. She eyed his glass. "How's your wine?"

"It smells wonderful," he remarked with a slightly wan, dissatisfied smirk. "A shame I can't actually drink it. An unfortunate limitation of my condition. I used to adore a good glass of wine."

"Seems a bit harsh, doesn't it? To buy it just to smell it. Unless that's a viable alternative to actually tasting it. I've never been a wine drinker myself. A glass every now and then but I've never cared for the taste."

"Well, in addition to the obvious," he smiled exaggeratedly baring his fangs, "I have a disorder that prevents me from tasting anything. My sense of smell is one of my few hedonistic pleasures. You should see me when the roses bloom in the spring."

Jocelyn frowned a touch. She wasn't sure what she would do it she'd lost her ability to taste. Even if it did in some way heighten other senses. If he couldn't taste, that meant he could bite and feed from just about anyone, demonic or not. "I'm sorry. Is that condition something you've always had?"

"No, it's not a genetic defect or anything," Jericho explained. "In college, I came down with a really bad upper respiratory infection. This was before I was turned, of course." The bartender took Jericho's still-full glass from the bar and immediately replaced it with a fresh one. He'd been there before, and this barkeep already knew the drill. The bouquet became thin very quickly. The vampire nodded and smiled in thanks. "Nothing more than a severe head cold. It took my sense of taste away. It's called aguesia. It does have it's advantages, which I'm sure you've already figured out, but..." He picked up the fresh merlot, took a good whiff, then held up the glass like he was offering a toast. "I must look like an idiot sometimes, just smelling food and drink." And beautiful women, who smell vaguely like...

Jericho tilted his head slightly to one side, and smiled gently at Jocelyn. "Lavender. It suits you."

She did know the advantages of his condition. The advantages were that there was nothing on the menu now that he had to steer clear of. And he fed for nourishment, rather than taste. That was interesting. If it were Val, she'd be laughing and taunting him mercilessly over it. But it wasn't, so she felt oddly sympathetic for Jericho's plight. When he accurately guessed the scent of her shampoo, her eyes ticked up to his from her glass and a smile curved at her lips at the compliment. "Thank you. How long ago were you turned?"

How time flies. "Eighty-one years ago. Which I suppose makes me at the very least old enough to be your great-great-grandfather," he chuckled. "And it was voluntary, that being the customary follow-up question."

"At the very least," Jocelyn agreed with a smile of her own. Eighty one. And he was extremely handsome and didn't look a day over twenty five, if that. Beauty and immortality. Jocelyn may have envied it herself had it not been for the whole blood sucking part of that particular lifestyle.

Jericho took another sniff of his wine, then set the glass on the bar and pushed it aside. Smiling, he narrowed his eyes at Jocelyn in a thoughtful, considering manner. "You're in Babylon, and completely unfazed. What little supernatural secret might you be harboring, Miss Jocelyn? Or would that be too much like asking a lady her age?"

Tapping her fingernails gently against her glass, she shook her head with a tiny laugh. "I don't treat it as a secret, really. Although I probably should, and do in some cases. But not in here. I'm not overly special. Just your regular, run of the mill witch. As for my age? Let's just say I'm young enough to be your great-great-granddaughter," she said teasingly.

Appreciating her clever sense of humor, Jericho laughed heartily. "Touché. Although I'd hardly use the terms 'witch' and 'run of the mill' in the same sentence. That would be like 'ordinary vampire', I think." His brow knit suddenly as a slight frown darkened his face. "Although there seem to be quite a few in Marquette, if my last twenty-four hours is any indication."

Ordinary vampires existed. Downright boring ones. She'd met a few over the years herself. "Have you met many then?" Jocelyn asked curiously, her interest piqued now. Maybe Val was right and there were more vampires running amok in Marquette than she thought.

"Two actually," Jericho replied, " a Strigoi, and one who claims to be Faryngael, but I'm not so sure. The latter accosted me with intention to feed." The blond smiled and shook his head lightly. "Boy, was he surprised."

Jocelyn was aware of the different types of vampires, although she was rarely able to pinpoint them. "And unsuccessful, I'm guessing." Jocelyn found it strange, and a bit entertaining, to be having this kind of discussion with a vampire, especially after Val's warning. Jericho seemed harmless, at least toward her. Then again, resorting to having to strike some kind of fear inside of her was as much as Val could really do these days. And he wasn't very good at that either. "I only know of one vampire in town, personally. Two, as of tonight," she said, motioning toward him with a smile. "I'm not overly skilled at pinpointing which race is which, to be honest, though I'm aware of them."

"It's not difficult, really, once you know what to look for." Jericho plucked a fingertip at his wineglass, and the crystal made a soft pinging noise. "Like wine tasting. Once you know what qualities to look for, it's easy to tell the product of one vineyard from another." An interesting woman, Jericho thought to himself, but she's hiding something. "So, me ask you this, Miss Jocelyn," he broached, grinning, "are you a good witch, or a bad witch?"

Jocelyn laughed, resting her chin on her palm as she studied him. "If I enjoyed wine a bit more, I would have loved that analogy." Though he had a point. Given her family's history with one particular vampire, really, she should have researched bloodlines a bit more in depth. Maybe she would. Why had she never bothered asking her mother about Val? Or Val himself? She would have to, next time. "Call me Glinda. I prefer not to become wicked unless I'm pressed to, and very rarely does that ever happen."

"Then we have at least that much in common," the vampire smiled congenially. He consulted his watch, then reached for his wallet to pay his tab and tip. "It's been a pleasure meeting you, Jocelyn.," he said, slipping back into his jacket. "Perhaps we'll run into each other again soon, but for now I'm afraid I have an appointment I must keep. Thank you for the pleasant company."

Jocelyn straightened a bit and gave him a smile though she was feeling a bit disappointed. She'd been enjoying the conversation and company. "All right. It was nice meeting you too. Stay dry." If he was a regular visitor to Babylon, she would more than likely run into him again. And if he wasn't, regardless, it had certainly been a pleasant change of pace, meeting a vampire that didn't drive her absolutely crazy.