<strong>Name:</strong>Kitsune Bouncer<br/><br/><strong>Location:</strong>Bar to Elevator to Office<br/><br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Damon<br/><br/><hr/><br/>The bouncer scoffed at the talk of manners, not seeming all that impressed by Damon's attitude or intimidated by his fangs, or at least trying not to show if he was either. He turned his back on the vampire to start leading him over to the elevator, his hands tight and looking ready to grab for his gun if there was any sign that he was under threat. An itchy trigger finger wasn't the best of qualities for what looked like the only security around the place, but for one who looked like he was barely into his twenties, it was probably some sort of testament that he had got the job at all.<br/><br/>Stepping up next to the elevator, he bluntly gestured for Damon to step inside, eyes looking elsewhere around the club to make sure everyone was behaving themselves. As if controlled from elsewhere, the semi-circular door split in half and slid into the wall on either side, giving the vampire just enough time to get in before moving back into place and sealing. The interior was like one solid, black cylinder, with gold lines and glyphs in the wall that seemed not so much embossed as they were part of the same material. A light humming would fill the chamber, but Damon would not feel like he was moving at all, at least until the door suddenly opened again and revealed a completely different chamber.<br/><br/>Unsurprisingly, the chamber, a little larger than your average club owner's office, was decorated with the same black and gold as everything else in Gehenna, though a little more subdued and tasteful. Rather than a desk, the only furniture was a large, circular table in the center of the room, surrounded by three black couches of a silky material, all of which faced toward the elevator in different degrees. The far wall of the room was one giant window, though one would have a hard time telling immediately, since it only led out to black void, with what looked like a small, blue star out in the extreme distance, providing a small, extra light to the room. Sitting on the center couch was a man with black pants and coat, a red dress shirt with two buttons at the top left undone, and poker shades, who was leaning back and putting his feet up with a great deal of self-confidence.<br/><br/>"Mr. Wright. You've aged well," the nephilim half-complimented, half-joked right off the bat.<br/><br/>---<br/><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Orc Bartender<br/><br/><strong>Location:</strong>Bar<br/><br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Jack<br/><br/>Knowing better than to make an impatient, irritable werewolf wait longer than necessary, the orc watched the security boy take his last customer away, then grabbed the right glass and set it before Jack, pouring one of the stronger whiskeys available and watching. He decided to stick around for a moment, since he was sure one double shot wasn't quite going to do it for a man of that blood. "You look like you haven't had a good drink in years, Mason," the orc said with a very deep chuckle, setting the bottle down and leaning forward to speak quietly. "Would it help you relax if I said you might get to spill some Fallen blood tonight?" He grinned, baring his large, lower fangs.