She reached the end of the alleyway, a dilapidated wooden wall banning further movement forward. The place was ideal for her â€˜jobâ€™, darkly lit, nestled between apartment buildings sealed up, many lights still on, music and voices so loud even in the dead of winter their fun would be unheard by all.<br/><br/>To her right sat a huge dumpster, overflowing with garbage, rats and stray cats, old newspapers and litter bouncing around their feet as the wind and snow tossed them about. Above this dumpster was a fire escape, rickety at best, where a simple hop up and climb would ensure her escape.<br/><br/>As she stopped and turned to face the human waste of life, he grinning as spittle lay on his chapped and nasty lips, her head tilted in a listen.<br/><br/>The dark one followed them, and was adamant to be the hero for the night. How sweet.<br/><br/>Most women would have done as he requested. Most women would have RUN to the dark, handsome, beautiful eyed man with the gorgeous hair and attire. His scent alone was intoxicating, she had to admit. Most women would play the damsel in distress that he now obviously assumed her to be, and most women would have no qualms with doing anything he asked of them.<br/><br/>She was not most women.<br/><br/>And perhaps, because letâ€™s face it, he IS a cutie, and because it would make for such a great cuddle and smooch, she would have played the part he wished her to. Afterall, she had needs too.<br/><br/>However, his thoughts changed the tune and outcome. The sly devil had them well blocked up until his last round, and she heard loud and clear what the dark man thought of the nasty human before her.<br/><br/>There goes her meal, again. And there goes her acting the innocent.<br/><br/>Bah.<br/><br/>Go on, groan, take a moment. Her thoughts switched into a classic television show moment; the Brady Bunch, Jan, eyes rolling upward, big grin on the girlâ€™s face, saying to her sister Marsha, â€˜BUT HE IS SO GROOVY SIS!â€™. Damn.<br/>She blinks rapidly and chuckles, the human obviously distressed; not by her, by the dark man. The waste opens his mouth and steps forward towards the dark man, hand tugging into his jacket pocket, slipping around a small wooden hilt that led to a rather sharp blade.<br/><br/>She rolls her own eyes now, snapping a cold hand around the wrist deep in the manâ€™s pocket, her other hand pulling up in a â€˜halt right thereâ€™ gesture at the dark man. Of all the nights, she was in no mood to exert so much energy, for this. Hell, she wouldnâ€™t even get to feed, which is why she came out to begin with. Unlike the social butterfly of a possible equal standing and portraying the hero figure, she was very hidden, kept to herself and did not enjoy the â€˜mealâ€™; she hadnâ€™t in centuries. Those reasons are her own, and no one has ever found the reason, and no one probably will. Her eyes moved to the dark man, and she simply stared into his own for a moment, offering a look that stated, â€˜yes, yes I do have to do this. You should go.â€™.<br/><br/>Letâ€™s continue, shall we?<br/><br/>Quickly the femme exhales with a sharp snort, causing the wind to pick up around her and the human; this causes a chaotic chain of events as it begins a small whirlwind that rolls around their frames. It pulls the straggling papers on the ground, one of which slapping against her shin, flittering about like a trapped bird in a net.<br/><br/>This effect also causes the nearby snow to pick up, attempting to obscure the dark manâ€™s vision of the two before him. This happens in seconds, and the grasp of the manâ€™s wrist drags the humanâ€™s attention back to her, which is what is needed. Her free hand pulls to the grotesque manâ€™s face, palm smacking him sharply against his cheek, her thumb cradling his jaw near his chin, nails digging into his sickly flesh. This hand pushes sharply to her left, causing his face to move in the awkward position over his right shoulder; the nudge so intense and quick that a crack is heard from the manâ€™s neck. She steps back, allowing his body to slump against the side of the dumpster, muttering to herself at the waste of free food.<br/>During this, as he fell, she managed a touch at the manâ€™s hidden knife, which gave her all the information regarding this being she needed to determine his substance was not something she would put near her own self, he was tainted and dastardly.<br/><br/>Quickly she worked now, as her display of winds would ebb soon and leave the dark man to see too much, if he had not already. She kneels before the body, both palms now resting upon the sternum, leaning down as her mouth parts towards his.<br/><br/>She may not have a meal, but she will have a soul.