Ryah wouldn't have lied anyway, though he wasn't one for airing his dirty laundry everywhere. It was far easier to deal in half truths, especially with creatures like the undead. The brunet shrugged, the movement graceful and casual, even though tension was pooling in his belly. "He stole something of mine. I'd like to get it back," he answered as he made a show of looking around the pub. "Does<i>anyone</i>look like they're here for a good time?" His voice was dry, his words tinged with amusement.<br/><br/>He was trying to decide if the vampire in front of him was telling the truth or not, and if he wanted to get him alone to shake the truth out of him. He didn't look as easy to intimidate as the redhead he'd taken care of earlier. Shame really; sometimes there was something fun about turning a vampire into prey when they were so used to being the predator. It was like giving them a taste of their own medicine.<br/><br/>Ryah's lip curled up in disgust and annoyance. "Should have known that redhead was useless," he muttered to himself. She'd been terrified and would have said anything to escape; this place wasn't anything to Phineas' tastes. He drained the rest of his drink in one go and stood up, heading to the bar to clear his tab. He'd been here for over an hour and had only seen the one vampire. This was<i>not</i>the place he'd been looking for and now he was at a dead end. Great. Just goddamn great.<br/><br/>He left the pub, turning down an empty alley, pulling his phone out. Thumbing through his contacts, he pulled up C. Singer and sent off a quick message. Char was right beneath that, and unable to help himself, he read her last message for the hundredth time.