<strong>RADOJKA PERVANIC<br/>Location: Super Burger<br/>Tagging: Open, Vi, Joshua, Kyle</strong><br/><br/>Watching a young man - one of these American boys, a privileged super bro, a grotesquely over-developed foetus still swaddled in his cozy parental womb - entering Super Burger, Radojka considers making a move. She's been a little hesitant about feeding from humans so far - not a matter of principle, just the fact that she doesn't want to risk them getting away and blabbing about her existence, and she's pretty sure that blood ceases to be nourishing the minute you break the poor sucker's neck.<br/><br/>But then he does something odd. Something that makes her pause. He<em>sniffs</em>the air. It's not the usual 'sniffing at the rank vent stink emerging from the Super Burger - she supposes that he<em>could</em>conceivably like the smell - but he seems to be using his nose in a way that few humans would, whipping his head round to follow invisible trails of scent. Well, that or he's mad, but as Radojka peers into the night at him, eyes wide as saucers, pupils dilated into pools of darkness blacker than the night around her, she doesn't think so. She's seen people driven mad and deranged in Bosnia, and this guy - this guy looks perfectly normal. Barring the whole sniffing thing, that is. For a moment, he seems to sniff directly at her, and she freezes, eyes somehow managing to widen even further in sudden shock and surprise. After he looks away, she realises she's been holding a breath that she doesn't even need to hold - curses herself for holding on to her human weaknesses - and follows after him, intrigued, and hoping to get some blood - or at least, some information - out of this night. Brushing off the remaining leaf-mulch, she's glad that she slept yesterday in a natural setting, rather than in a dumpster (less obvious smell), and proceeds off into the Super Burger.<br/><br/>She's always known how to get into places she's not wanted. Oh, lockpicking's not her game, her fingers were too clumsy pre-death and now, with her inch-long talons, she'd have trouble getting the fine motor control. But as an extremely undocumented asylum seeker, she's always been on the wrong side, of any given barrier, pressing her nose up against the glass, and has a good deal of experience of circumventing such obstacles. This experience has only been bolstered by the demands exerted on her by her undead state. No money, no ID, no formal education and looking vaguely monstrous make a gal's life somewhat harder. The trick is to note where gates are, where security is, where they're looking for you - so long as you can get round them, you usually have a fairly free reign to wander about where you're not supposed to. This 'restaurant'? Well, the front door is an obvious place where they'd check visitors, keep out undesirables - it's very obvious if anyone enters, and she'd stick out like a sore thumb there. Same goes for sitting down at a table alone and within sight of the staff - they'd pick her up for sure. Or trying to buy food, with money she didn't have. But sitting down with someone else? Hmm …<br/><br/>She enters via a ventilation shaft on Super Burger's roof, her small body easily fitting into its tight metal confines. She emerges - regrettably - in the men's bathroom, scaring the<em>hell</em>out of a man doing a line of coke by oozing out of the vent next to him, but then, just as he's looking round a second time, trying to get a fix on her, she's off, out the door. She saunters out from the toilets, looking for all the world like she has a right to be there, then, fixing her eyes on the weird sniffing boy she saw enter earlier, makes a bee-line for him, and neatly sits down at his table.<br/><br/>' 'sthat you, the truck outside? Had to say - nice vheels. Is it a common thing for young guys to have a truck here?'<br/><br/>Dippy foreigner is a demeaning and insulting act to try to pull off, but she's new to this whole 'inveigle her vay into the social avareness of rich kids' deal, and hopefully it vill vork here.