Crimson Vision: One Drink Minimum

School was in session and The Village was pulsing like an open vein. Co-eds in various states of enebriation gushed forth from the bars onto the streets, flowing each other around until finding another watering hole where they could quench their thirst. Jean watched them from a corner where he could see them coming and going. He smiled politely at passerby, reminding himself not to snarl at the Kine. It would not do to offend his potential dinner.



There was one in every crowd. He just had to find what he was looking for. And there...there she was. At the end of the pack, like they usually were. She was the girl that really didn't fit in, but they asked her to tag along. Not really because they wanted her to socialize with them, but because they needed someone to be the voice of reason, to be the responsible one, to be the designated driver.



Jean almost pitied the girl. Almost. But pity was something he had set aside years ago. There was little room for pity when he was on the hunt.



The vampire watched as the gaggle entered one of the many bars in The Village, not the nicest, but definitely not the worst. He pictured the floorplan in his mind, considering the angles and the cover provided by the shadows. There was a unisex bathroom down a long hallway. Perfect.



A moment later he moved from the shadows and crossed the street to the bar. Jean waited for a moment when the bouncer was occupied with some obviously fake IDs and snuck past the crowd by the door. For some reason, he was rarely stopped and was never remembered by anyone that mattered. He moved past the entrance and over to the bar. He sat at the end of the bar and turned to watch the scene.



As he suspected, the group of young women he had watched come into the bar were mingling with the other young people and heading to the dance floor. Everyone was easing into an evening of reckless abandon, everyone but his target. She sat alone at a table in the far corner, protecting the handbags and sipping a soda. She had a smile on her lips as she looked around at the nightlife, as if pretending she was really part of it all. Jean relaxed into his seat at the bar and pulled out his phone. He casually checked his messages in between glancing at the girl. It would take some time for her to loose her confidence. Jean didn't mind. The night was young.



An hour later, the girl was staring into the bottom of her second soda, looking dejected and glancing longingly at her so-called "friends" having the time of their lives. Jean crossed the room and sat down at the table next to her. "Hey. I'm Jean. You're cute."



The girl smiled, flustered at the stranger next to her. She blushed despite herself. "You're sweet. And probably drunk."



Jean shrugged and smiled. He said nothing. He had learned over time that less was usually more. "You wanna go make out?"



She gaped, her mouth opening and closing like a fish without water. She didn't refuse him, but she tried to come up with an excuse. "But...my friends. I'm the designated driver."



"Ah, c'mon. I hate to see a girl sitting here by herself. Let's you and me go have a bit of fun." He gave her his best smile and leaned into her slightly. He brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. "What do you say?"



She blushed again and smiled. It was simple enough to take her down the dark hall and into the bathroom. So naive. She would remember the encounter only vaguely the next morning. She would remember a handsome stranger kissing her neck and feeling her up, a few moments of sheer ecstasy, and then returning to her table in a daze. She would be weak, but no worse for wear.



She might remember his eyes, they sometimes did. But for the most part, he would be forgotten, a fact that suited him just fine. He had nearly forgotten all about her as soon as he left the bar, his thoughts turned to his next target and the new hunt ahead.