13007/A Meeting of Similar Minds...

A Meeting of Similar Minds...
Date of Scene:	11 April 2021
Location:	Club Mjolnir, Hell's Kitchen
Synopsis:	Dracula, Loki and Lucifer end up meeting each other in a bar. They share a conversation and seem to enjoy each other's company.
Cast of Characters:	Dracula, Loki, Lucifer

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Dracula has posed:
Some things do not change, no matter how much time passes. The sprawling mass of humanity is one of those things. The majority of them are little more than sheep. Busy little sheep, hurrying about their lives, from here to there and back again. They flock in clusters and in herds, occassionally predictable creatures of habit.

Tonight, Vlad has chosen to mingle amongst the herd of sheep that he hunts. He is dressed well, but that is often the case for him, though a trifle more modern than what he sometimes goes for. He wears a pair of black slacks, a long-sleeved black button up shirt with a crimson pocket square poking out of the pocket, a black peacoat that goes to his knees, and a pair of black boots. The contrast to the black is his hair which is bone white, worn past the shoulders in length, and with a thin goatee. There is a slight elven quality to his ears, and his eyes are very dark brown. In this moment, he appears to be young, perhaps in his thirties or so, and he carries a black cane in his right hand. It is for style more than any other reason.

Vlad steps through the doors of the establishment that he's chosen to patronize tonight, and there's a brief glance across the space within as though perhaps weighing it out.

Loki has posed:
Another wolf amongst the sheep on this night is Loki. In a contrast to the one who just entered, his midnight dark hair falls in loose waves down his back, a little over his right shoulder. He wears green and gold in complimenting contrast. A suit of deep green to match his eyes. A tie of gold. Pants of a darker gold. Shoes of polished black.

He lounges in one of the booths along the right wall, positioned equidistant from front to back. His length rests on the bench, legs crossed at the ankles. Left elbow resting atop the table, hand up and bracing his chin. His right is up and resting atop the back of the booth stool, hand holding a fluted champagne glass, dangling from his fingers.

Loki's green eyes glitter as he surveys the crowd. A hint of boredom can be seen in his beautiful face. But as charismatic as he is, he's chosen to be alone in this moment. As another wolf comes into the club, Loki felt it. As the other is still stepping into /his/ chosen territory, Loki looks from the dance floor where his eyes had been lingering, and to the door. His green eyes meet the darker brown that white haired wolf.

Charisma meets charisma, will meets will, in a silent clash unfelt by the majority of the sheep within the club. Loki's lips curl up in a slight, amused smile, green eyes sparkling with it. A few of the patrons within the club start getting nervous, though none have yet attributed that fact to the two wolves amongst the sheep.

Emerald eyes still upon White Hair, the champagne flute is lifted, and a sip taken from the glass. "Things just got interesting," he murmurs to nobody in particular.

Dracula has posed:
Power tends to recognize power. And predators tend to recognize when there are others of their ilk about. Vlad moves like any other human, for the most part, though there is a suave nature and a grace to him that the sheep generally lack. Refinement is hard to find these days, and harder yet to instill in the younger generations.

He steps forward then, and the cane seems almost an extension of his right hand as he uses it. The sheep are looked over and mentally discarded. Perhaps he has no wish to toy with his food, tonight. Or perhaps he simply is not possessed of hunger. Many possibilities are open to be the truth, given who and what he is. He easily makes his way around the individuals of the sea of humanity, avoiding being touched by all of them, as he crosses to the bar. And the request that he makes is simple, spoken in a voice that's deep and smooth, "Brandy, if you please."

The will of Vlad is an old sort of thing, aged through the centuries. He'd noticed the other in his cursory examination of the space. The green-eyed one, who looked so fine. One of his ears shifts just a touch, turning minutely towards the fellow, and he tilts his head just a touch to one side. Oh, he hears the words, assuredly. And there's a hint of a smile that just touches the corners of his lips in response to them. If he wanted to, he could reach the fellow's booth in quite short order -- he has the speed for it. But he doesn't want to. And so he remains at the bar, until his drink is given to him. He pays for the drink, and generously so. The stem of the snifter is easily adjusted to be between the first and middle finger of his left hand, and he gives the liquid within a gentle swirl before lifting the glass to take a sip of it.

Loki has posed:
Refinement is simply something those who don't have the years to understand it... well. Lack entirely. Loki has this refinement in spades. And the charisma and sheer presence to go along with it. This is something that tends to draw the humans to him in flocks... when he turns it up a notch. He hasn't, tonight. At least, not until the white haired wolf had entered the club. His eyes follow White Hair for a brief time, and then slant away, watching the rest of the bar.

A woman, a beautiful woman, approaches his table and he waves his hand with the glass in a 'go away' sort of gesture. The woman pouts, but then goes away. In truth, there's only one other person in this place who he finds the slightest bit interesting.

White Hair. His green eyes go back to that one. And he tilts his head as his eyes meet the dark browns. Then he nods to the empty seat across his chosen booth from him. An open invitation, it would seem. The champagne is lifted and sipped, eyes never leaving White Hair.

Dracula has posed:
Whether the sheep are bothered by his presence or not, Vlad seems to not care. He isn't looking to stir them up. Not tonight. At least, not yet. The Count turns smoothly to stand with his back to the bar, and he keeps his drink within his left hand. His dark gaze slides lightly over the sea of humanity. Looking at them, looking through them, looking beyond them. He lifts his snifter, taking a sip of the brandy, and his gaze makes its way back to the emerald-eyed one. The Other. The one who is not a sheep. He is aware of the woman who was shooed away, though she earned none of his attention.

And by this Other, he allows his gaze to be caught and to be, at least for a moment, held. Long enough for that invitation to be conveyed. Perhaps tonight will be more interesting than what he thought it had potential for when he first set out. Smoothly, he steps away from the bar, no sign of any hurry to his steps, and he deftly eases through the sheep in order to make his way over to the booth occupied by the green-eyed one. The cane is tucked in first, hooked just so at the edge of the table to keep it from sliding, and then he sits at the empty seat across from the one who 'summoned' him. "Good eve," Dracula says, his voice deep and smooth.

Loki has posed:
Though it is late, it is not so l ate that Club Mjolnir shows any signs of slacking off. Loki is sitting, lounging, in a booth, presently by himself. His legs are at the open end, crossed at the ankles and showing off the shiny black boots and darker gold slacks he wears. He sports a suit type jacket of green and a tie of a paler gold than his slacks. His long, dark hair falls in loose waves over his shoulders and down his back. His left elbow rests on the table top, and his upturned palm props his chin. His right arm rests against the top at the booth's seat back, and a champagne flute dangles between his fingers.

Presently, his green eyes are on White Hair at the bar, who'd just ordered a brandy. Both.. are definitely not the sheep of this club, but perhaps... wolves. Dressed to resemble the sheep. The woman Loki had shooed away had earned no more of his attention than she had of White Hair's.

As White Hair makes his way across the club, through the sea of sheep dancing and the long tables between the rows of booths, Loki's eyes follow him. Curiouser and curiouser. It is impressive, how the sheep seem to give a slim, but noticeable, path where White Hair is walking. Just a little bit of leeway is given. Enough that none of them touch him. "Interesting," says Loki. He lifts his glass to have another sip of the champagne within.

"Evening," he replies, lips curling up and eyes sparkling with some hidden amusement. "You're not like /them/," he says, giving slight emphasis to 'them'. "You're like me."

Lucifer has posed:
Apparently the night has decided that two wolves are not enough and a third one begins to emerge. Taking a break from running his own nightclub, and perhaps seeking to check out his competition as it were, the Devil himself proceeds to enter Club Mjolnir. This Devil does NOT wear Prada, and instead is dressed to the nines in a black three piece suit immaculately tailored to fit his frame, with a blood red kerchief sticking out of the pocket. His eyes, a striking blue at the moment, pierce the veil of the club to look over the present sheep before they land upon the wolves who ignore them. Then he smirks.

If the other wolves are going to be too indulgent upon themselves to give attention to the sheep amongst their fold, then perhaps Lucifer will do that job for them. So instead of heading right for Loki's booth where Dracula stands, Lucifer will begin to mingle amongst the crowd. He grins, he talks, he flirts with a pretty little thing. Ironically the same pretty woman that Loki and Dracula had dismissed just moments before. She's getting attention now, attention that she craved, and she seems to be loving it. Though there's a glance from Lucifer to that back booth, his ever present smirk twitching the corners of his lips and his eyes sparkling in that 'stop me if you dare' sort of way before he returns his attention to the beautiful but otherwise non-descript woman.

Dracula has posed:
Tonight, Vlad wears a pair of black slacks, a long-sleeved black button up shirt with a crimson pocket square poking out of the pocket, a black peacoat that goes to his knees, and a pair of black boots. The contrast to the black is his hair which is bone white, worn past the shoulders in length, and with a thin goatee. There is a slight elven quality to his ears, and his eyes are very dark brown. In this moment, he appears to be young, perhaps in his thirties or so, and he carries a black cane in his right hand. It is for style more than any other reason.

There's a brief glance cast across the foolish and ignorant sheep of humans, and then his dark gaze slides back towards the emerald-eyed one. He lifts his snifter of brandy to take a sip of the liquid within, and he keeps the glass held so that the snifter rests in his palm, the stem of the glass between the first and middle fingers of his left hand. He watches the green-eyed one with a measure of curiosity, the slightest hint of interest in his dark eyes.

A flicker of a smile finds the corners of his lips, and he tilts his head a touch to one side. "Many things are interesting," Vlad says, inclining his head faintly towards the green-eyed one. "I am no sheep," he says. Shifting his position slightly, he smoothly crosses his legs at the knee, then rests his snifter upon his uppermost knee. There's a brief flicker of his gaze to pass over the crowd once more, and a minute shift upwards of one of his eyebrows as he notices the latest one to enter. That one is also not a sheep and yet is more willing to toy with them. He has no need or desire to stop the man from his 'attentions'. His own attention shifts back to the green-eyed one, watching him.

Loki has posed:
Just as with White Hair, Loki practically feels the new wolf enter the club. His eyes shift away from White Hair just long enough to note who, or what, had just come in. As Sleek One finds the woman that he'd shooed off, his lips curl up into a more amused expression. He doesn't seem to have any intention, or desire, to 'stop him', so he doesn't dare, either. He could, try, if he wanted to. But he doesn't. That would mean getting up and messing up his perfectly good lounging spot.

His gaze goes back to White Hair now, however. Loki's lips curl up again. "I already said that. If you were like them, you'd be a sheep. And you're not that. Wolf. Or, perhaps, leopard." He lifts his champagne and downs the last of it in one go.

Then, in a smooth, fluid motion, he sits up and brings the glass to rest upon the table's surface. He moves with all the grace of someone versed in self defense, and perhaps a bit more.

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer seems to have his hooks in this sheep, and is led to the bar where he orders a scotch on the rocks while they have a bit of a chat. She talks, he chuckles and responds, then she laughs and there's flirtful touching along the way but otherwise...Lucifer seems just a little less than interested as the moments go on. So once his drink is served, he reaches and touches the woman on the shoulder just before swiftly turning...and seeming to disappear.

When he reappears, he's perched on the back of the booth seat, just inches away from Loki and on the opposite side of where Dracula stands. A glance to the both of them and he sips at his drink a moment before giving a scoff. "Well well, what a troubling situation. Did the two of you decide to have a little party and not invite me? And now you're ignoring your little mortalings like they're some sort of plague?" Tsk tsk, comes the clicking of Lucifer's tongue before he gives a charming little grin and settles back on his perch, taking yet another sip from his drink.

Dracula has posed:
There is a slight swirl of the brandy held in his glass, and Vlad lifts it in the next moment to take a sip of it. The liquid does nothing for him, and has no impact on him, but he likes the taste of it. A throwback to years of long ago. He tilts his head faintly to one side, his dark gaze resting on the green-eyed one. "I am what I am, nothing more and nothing less," Vlad says, faintly inclining his head towards the Other. What he is, is definitely not human, despite his mostly human appearance.

"A wolf is close enough," he agrees, a statement that gives away enough and nothing at the same time. "The reasons for the hunt are the same. To cull the weak or the weak-willed," he adds, a flicker of a smile barely touching at the corners of his lips. There is a certain grace to his movements as well, for he is trained in the arts of combat and defending himself. One of his eyebrows quirks up slightly at the swift movement of the other, but he seems to remain calm and at ease himself, tranquil. "Like calls to like, after a fashion," he adds.

His gaze turns towards the third wolf who has come to stand at the booth, and he takes a moment to look him over briefly. "I see nothing troubling. If a plague is what they are, at least it is not one of my creation," he says, his voice deep and smooth.

Loki has posed:
Behind Loki, now, in fact, that he's sat up. He doesn't seem to be the slightest bit surprised by the being who'd appeared there, either. He glances out at the humans dancing on the dance floor and tsks himself. "They're not my little mortalings," he says, turning to lean his back against the table, elbows atop it. His green eyes shift back to Sleek One perching on the back of the booth. "Unless they have something I want, I care little for them. They're naught but a means to an end on the best of days. Something occasionally fun to torment."

Oh yes, he really did just say that out loud. "Why would I wish to entertain them when the two of you are here? You're faaar more entertaining than the humans are." Did he just refer to the mortals as humans? He certainly did. He waves his hand and one of the bottles at the bar disappears from where it is, alighting on the table next to him. It's pale green and glows faintly. His hand curls around it and he lifts it to pour a measure into his champagne flute. Maybe he hadn't been drinking champagne afterall?

Lucifer has posed:
"Interesting surely is one way to put it..." Lucifer offers, before glancing between the two. His gaze shifts to Dracula a moment and he considers the man for longer than he perhaps actually should. "Well, I think the three of us are of the mind that the sheep can mingle where they wish. Company of our ilk is..." He waves a hand in the air, mostly because Loki said it best a moment ago. There's a raised brow, however, when the Asgardian names them 'human' and not 'mortal'...oh he's very much aware of what is going on here. In a world where beings like Dracula and Loki were said to not exist. Creatures of fiction. Yet here they are in the flesh.

The Prince of Darkness just smirks and lifts his tumbler to take another drink of the amber liquid within. Like Dracula, imbibing alcohol is merely done for it's flavor. Lucifer cannot get drunk. It's both a blessing and a curse because he can drink anyone under the table, but he can also scare people to near death for doing so. "So all three of us are just randomly here with no real reason as to why?"

Dracula has posed:
There's a flicker of a smile that touches Vlad's lips at the mention of tormenting the humans. The sheep all have something that he wants, that he needs, but he says nothing of it. There are more than enough people on the planet to satisfy his hunger, especially given how easily they reproduce. They are nigh worse than rabbits. "A means to an end, indeed," Vlad says, giving a faint nod. And humans are a means to an end, for him. They keep him alive and prevent him from reverting to the feral beast that exists at the core of him.

"The sheep are more than capable of entertaining themselves as they have been doing for centuries," Dracula says. "Or stampeding. Either seems as likely," he adds, flicking a brief glance over the crowd before his attention readily returns to the wolves whose company he keeps. He seems not surprised at all when the bottle disappears from the bar only to reappear on the table. And he lifts his glass, taking a sip of his brandy.

Dracula turns his dark gaze to the Lord of Hell, and he tilts his head faintly to one side, studying this one for a moment. "Are you suggesting a reason is necessary?" he inquires, one of his eyebrows faintly raising.

Loki has posed:
Loki grins, still so very, very amused. Then again, that seems to just be how Loki /is/. As though everything around him is a source of amusement. Which... he's the God of Mischief. Maybe everything around him /does/ amuse him. "Yes, that. So long as mingle over there and don't ruin the fun." He grins again and nods. "Is sometimes difficult to come by. Except in the cases of my often annoying brother. He's too serious to be any fun."

The question has Loki shrugging ever so slightly as he drinks from the champagne flute. "It would appear to be so, yes. I came here hoping for some entertainment."

At White Hair's mention of stampeding, Loki's grin gets wider, somehow toothier and more wicked. Almost as though he'd just grown fangs. "Oh, I know. Causing a stampede sounds like a great deal of fun to me. I wonder, how long would it take me to scare every human out of this building?" From his obvious arrogant self confidence, probably not very long at all.

Lucifer has posed:
Lucifer lets his gaze shift over to Dracula and he tilts his head just so, regarding the other man for a moment. "Cause to affect. Something is bound to go amis. Someone will decide at some point that us gathering will bring on one thing or another. Chaos incarnate. End of the world. Riding tides. Something.." He chuckles and then downs the rest of his glass before setting it on the table. Loki makes his comment about stampedes and that just causes Lucifer to chuckle. "And if Loki gets his way, we'll be the blame of an earthquake in New York."

Dracula has posed:
That the green-eyed one is amused is not lost on him. Vlad can see it in him, can smell it exuding from him. He lightly swirls his brandy, and then he lifts his glass to take a sip of it, savouring the flavour of it. The glass is brought to rest atop of his uppermost knee. "They will stay where they are. They have barely enough sense to steer clear of a pack of wolves when they sense one," Dracula says, a hint of a smile barely finding the corners of his lips.

A single fingernail taps against the glass as he watches the green-eyed one. "And have you found your sought after entertainment?" he asks, a thread of curiosity and amusement within the words. "I do not doubt that you could stampede them. Either of you. The sheep are easy to give fright to," he says, inclining his head slightly towards the pair of them. He has his own was that he could use of scaring them, but he chooses not to mention any of them.

His dark gaze lingers on the Lord of Hell, and he faintly tilts his head to one side. "Every action is one that might return consequences. There is always one group or another believing that the end of the world is around the next corner," he comments, sounding a touch amused.

Loki has posed:
Loki grins wickedly. "Something is always bound to go amiss," he points out. "Chaos incarnate is the entire idea, you know." He snorts a laugh out his nose. "You're no fun," he points out of Sleek One. The grin grows wider. "Of course you'll be the blame. That's half the fun."

There's a slight pout, then a wicked smile at White Hair. "I have not yet found my entertainment, no. Why else would I be pondering stampeding a bunch of humans?" He grins again. "Might be entertaining to make the humans think the end of the world is coming sooner rather than later." He lifts his right hand and something resembling a dragon appears there. It's small, though, perhaps two inches in all. And.. it has four heads. And tails. They writhe about each other in an almost sickening way.