She Owns the Night - Closed - Centara

[Centara Zealon]

“There’s nothing wrong with philosophy. Though I’d never claim to be one, I just know a lie when I hear one. I’ve told enough half-truths to know when someone’s hiding something.”

He was prying. Why was he prying? Centara was beginning to wonder if she was finding herself in proper company. Most men that she had a drink with normally did not pry this much into her life. Normally they took it at face value and figured out what it would take to get her to take her clothes off. The faster, the better. Apparently she had gotten used to that lifestyle and was now finding it odd to talk to a male who actually wanted to know something about her. Only bad thing, she was nowhere near prepared for something like that. She could keep telling him half of the story, the half that didn’t tell him she was a vampire, ex-DeathEater, and international business-woman. But how long was that going to last before he really pressured her? The good thing was she was under no obligation to stay with him even if he did press that far and with her speed, she could get away at any moment she wished. But what was the fun in that? Then again, if he was prying this much, what was the real motive? Was it to get to know her or was Maverick really a Ministry official who was putting on a show to get to know one of the people who had made their list plenty of times. Luckily for her, she had been using Carter to keep herself off that list for a while. No doubt that relationship was not holding strong given the last two years in a coma. Cen would not be surprised if she made her way back on the hunted list by the Ministry.

“Kicked out for bad behavior only to return as head girl, yes, certainly nothing interesting in that story. Incredibly common in fact, your life truly is a bore.”

“I warned you,” Centara stated matter-of-factly, shrugging her shoulders in an ‘I told you so’ sort of way. “The best part is now, though. I hate living in the past. It means you have to keep a memory of it all. Why do that when you can live in the here and now and do what you want to make today special?” She hoped that would be enough to satisfy his thirst for information. Honestly that was more than she ever usually gave. If he truly was a Ministry worker, it was the most she could give without giving them more than what was already within her file. Anymore information would just be an invitation for them to arrest her and throw her into an Azkaban cell. Breaking out of there would just be another thing to add to her file and there was no doubt in her mind that it would after a small amount of time. Azkaban had never been a dream of hers nor would it ever be unless life on the outside got so bad that she might as well be in a cell. If she had her way, the world would never get that way. If Centara had her way, Azkaban would be filled with all the Ministry workers and those who rose against her. Let them feel what it was like to be one of their prisoners for once. It wouldn’t kill them, at least not right away.

The talk about getting a drink did not seem to be a problem with him, and in fact he seemed pretty eager. She was just not pleased with where his eyes were drifting. Damn her and making the door to Der Keller blood red. It stood out too much for humans to ignore. The werewolves getting thrown out did not help her case in keeping his eyes off of her club, either. Luckily the man had been just the distraction she had needed to keep him from suggesting they go through the door she so commonly entered. No doubt she would be given away in a human heartbeat if that happened. Centara could help but laugh as Maverick threw the man to the ground and immediately pointed his wand at the man. Her eyes thirsted for him to act, to do something to the man. It took everything she had to not let the emotion show on her face or in her eyes. He was one of the one’s that was consistently warning people of her club. She wouldn’t mind seeing Mav teach the filthy man about keeping his mouth shut. What made it worse was that his eyes were fixated on the vampire in front of him and he obviously was cluing Maverick because rather than hurting the man, he merely through some coins at him and allowed him to leave. Her excitement faded rather quickly and was replaced with a twinge of anger. She had wanted him to learn his lesson and instead, it looked more like he had done what he wanted, let Maverick know that something wasn’t quite right in this situation.

“The sooner we get off this street the better.” Centara nodded in agreeance before leading him in the direction of a small pub she knew around the corner. “I’m shocked you let him go so easily. Have a soft spot for those who are mad?” she asked, turning the corner into the next alley. It seemed like no matter where they went, each street was lined with the filthy vermin. Why did they not find somewhere else to make their home? “Don’t tell me you’re not in the mood for violence anymore? If you say that we might just not have any fun at this next place,” she added, looking up at the signs above them. Third shop down the row read “P’s & Q’s”. It was one of the few places in Drear Alley that she felt safe going into with a human since they knew when to keep their mouths shut in the restaurant. She was happy to see that most of the businesses were still open in Drear Alley but that was because they knew how to survive with little business. This pub was no different and she noticed as they arrived in front of it, it actually had quite a few people in it. And with a wink she said, “Well, here’s a chance to redeem yourself.”

[Maverick Dresner]

“I’m shocked you let him go so easily. Have a soft spot for those who are mad?”

Maverick's eyes glanced back to the spot the man had once stood. Mad, yes, he must have been, just a mad man struggling with his demons. "Too easy," Maverick remarked. "There's no pride in victory over a man like that...he's got enough to worry about fighting off the voices in his head," Mav scoffed. He was hoping not to come off weak, not in front of Centara. He liked getting to showcase his hardened exterior, but he supposed she was right. He pitied the old man, recognized something in him, his struggle for sanity; it was easy to lose touch with the world. But the man was gone now, scampered off to ingest whatever poison made living a life like his more tolerable. It was time for Maverick to get back on track with the night, with some help from his lovely escort.

“Don’t tell me you’re not in the mood for violence anymore? If you say that we might just not have any fun at this next place,”

"You've got quite the dark side, don't you love?" Maverick commented, his left lip quirking upwards. It really was incredible the passion for violence that was locked inside that tiny, curvaceous frame. "Don't worry, I've got plenty of pent up frustration to take out on drunk strangers, you'll see," Mav smiled assuring Centara that her bloodlust would be satisfied. Although it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world if they actually just sat and talked a little bit. Social interaction was something of a rarity for Maverick and he was hoping to make the most of it. His opinion, was of course subject to change once his eyes caught a bunch of strangers looking at the girl he now considered to be under his personal protection.

“Well, here’s a chance to redeem yourself.”

"P's & Q's," he read the sign above the door to the bar allowed. "I take it we won't be minding them," Maverick said giving a short, half laugh at his own wit. It did seem an odd place to go to pick a fight, but Centara clearly knew the area better than he did. He pushed his way into the bar. He surveyed the area, scoping out potential threats. There was an odd feel to the bar, like he wasn't meant to be there. Perhaps word of his earlier fight had spread. Wouldn't be the first time he was kicked out of a bar based on word of mouth. But so far no one approached him. "So what are you drinking?" Maverick asked anxious to move past the new bar jitters with the help of a little liquid courage.

[Centara Zealon]

As the two stepped through the threshold of the bar, Centara couldn’t help but notice the turns that they received from the patrons. It seemed like nearly every person at the bar turned to look at the people who had just opened the door to their sanctuary. The numerous pairs of eyes fell upon the two that had walked in, looking to see if they belonged there. By the outward appearance of the patrons who were occupying the bar currently, it was not hard to tell that neither of the two young wizards was dressed for this certain bar. Centara in her revealing dress and Maverick in his clean pants and shirt stood out. The patrons were in long overcoats and robes, dirty and dungy just as people who lived on Drear Alley. Long hair was the style of choice for both men and women alike and it seemed like whiskey was the drink of choice. Of course, this was nothing different from normal. Cen knew her style did not match when she had chosen the next destination for the two. It never mattered from her point of view because the less they fit in, the more trouble they could cause in a shorter amount of time.

"You've got quite the dark side, don't you love?"

A grin spread across Cen’s lips as she looked over her shoulder at Maverick who was walking in directly behind her. “Now what would make you say that?” she asked, sarcasm dripping so obviously from each word as she turned back around and slid into an empty seat at the bar. Maverick slid in next to her as the bartender took notice to the two, apparently not caring that they existed because he continued to shine the glass that was in his hand with the blatantly dirty rag in his other. “I swear they never seem to clean a damn thing around here. No wonder I rarely come this direction,” Centara said, shaking her head slowly. Even Der Keller had standards despite the rough crowd that crossed through the doors and the fact that even dirty glasses didn’t turn away half of the patrons. She still held it to a high standard that you would see in most other bars including the Mirage Lounge owned by one who she loathed just as much as the vermin in the street. Cen could never deny her admiration for the way McBain ran his bar, however. It was the way she expected a bar to be run, just why did it have to be by him? She would admire it so much more if he didn’t own the place.

"So what are you drinking?"

Putting her hand under her chin and her elbow on the bar, Centara bit her lip to emphasize her thinking. Of course, she really didn’t need to think. The choice was quite obvious for her; however she always enjoyed bringing on the dramatics. “Well, let’s see,” she began, tapping her fingers against her cheek, “Jack and coke was my previous choice, however I’m thinking something stronger might be needed in a place like this.” Her eyes glanced around at the glasses of the patrons around her, the auburn liquid looking dull in the dim light of the bar. The smell coming to her nose was a strong, aged whiskey that resembled one that she was saving at her own home for the perfect age. “I’m thinking some of that divine looking whiskey the rest of these people have is going to be in order. What do you think?”

[[Sorry for the short length. Starting to run out of ideas. We may have to cut this one out soon if neither of us can come up with anything entertaining.]]

[Maverick Dresner]

“I swear they never seem to clean a damn thing around here. No wonder I rarely come this direction,”

"Apparently the scourgify charm has yet to reach this sub-basement of civilization," Maverick muttered. He was supposed there was no point in holding punches as their primary objective was to start some sort of bar brawl. Still Maverick wasn't looking to announce his distaste all at once, there was a process for these sorts of things. First, mutter something insulting and preferably witty and watch who's ears perk up, who scowls, or stares daggers. Assessing the numbers it seemed nearly everyone at the pub met one of the criteria, though Maverick was fairly certain a good number just hadn't had the chance to change their initial reaction to the clean cut couple's intrusion on their haven of filth.

“I’m thinking some of that divine looking whiskey the rest of these people have is going to be in order. What do you think?”

"Two whiskey doubles," Maverick called to the bartender who still seemed intent on avoiding them like the plague. Maverick dug into his pocket and removed some golden coins holding them up in the bartenders direction hoping the shimmer from the galleons of a paying customer may get him to drop his grudge. Fortunately, it seemed to work, though the man was taking his sweet time about it. "And a glass of soda water if you don't mind," Maverick added almost out of spite as a smirk crept across his lips. Since simply mocking the establishment didn't return any definite results...aside from the fact that he wasn't making any friends tonight he decided his next step was to take himself down a peg. In a bar full of patron with straight whiskey asking for something to water it down not only insulted the quality of the liquor, but should also make Maverick look weaker by comparison. I there was one sure way to gain the upper hand in a fight, Maverick had learned, it was to get your opponent to underestimate you.

Clearly, Maverick wouldn't need to look far for a fight as the old bartender, merely grunted as he slammed the two glasses down in front of his newest patrons and didn't seem to have any intention of providing Maverick with change for the galleons he'd laid down as payment. A forced tip taken for poor service, or perhaps a charge for the fizzing water that never came. "Soda pump must be broken," Maverick commented to Centara, sly grin returning to his lips. He hoped she didn't mind Mav playing the part of a tourist to draw out attackers, but they hadn't exactly discussed a gameplan before making their entrance.

Maverick glanced around, taking a new survey of his fellow patrons and spotted at least two target tables. One, held a groupd of surly men, speaking gruffly and pointing in the direction of the barstoools which Cen and Maverick currently occupied. The other had only one wizard sitting at it, not the physically intimidating type, but he was cloaked making it hard to tell his exact level of fitness. The man at this table hadn't seemed to take his eyes off of the pair since they walked in and it could be coincidence of timing but Maverick hadn't so much as seen him blink. He returned his focus to Centara and held up his glas to hers. "Cheers love."

((I can add more if you'd like))

[Centara Zealon]

The looks didn’t seem to cease when the two sat at the bar, and Maverick’s comment seemed to perk up some of the ears of the people sitting around them. Chuckling softly, Centara looked at the person sitting to her left, a burly man who looked like he hadn’t taken a shower in weeks. His glare only got that much worse when he overheard Maverick’s remark. To make things worse, Cen wiggled her fingers in a girly hello. His glare turned into a scowl that, if looks could kill, would slice right through a person. He picked up his whiskey, took a drink, and then slid off his barstool, never moving his glare from the couple even as he walked to a table filled with men who looked exactly as he did.

"Two whiskey doubles."

Centara nodded as she turned back around to face Maverick and the disgruntled bartender. “Good choice,” she commented, grinning when he added the glass of soda water to the tab. He was really trying to play this up as much as possible. First, adding to her insult to the bar when they first entered in. Now he was attempting to make the two look like they didn’t belong there by ordering probably the one thing no one in a bar such as this ever asked for. Soda water. She couldn’t even recall a day herself when she had such a drink. Ever since she had hit her teenage years, drinking had become especially common. When she was sired, it nearly became a staple considering she couldn’t get drunk. As a child, she drank nothing but water so that basically sealed the thought of her never having had soda water. The bartender, obviously peeved at having to stop cleaning the dirty glass that he had been working on since they had entered, came over and decided to serve the ordered drinks. As he slammed down the glasses in front of the pair, Cen’s eyes narrowed playfully in his direction. The poured whiskey was heaven to her senses, much better than the smell of the men around here.

"Soda pump must be broken."

“Must be the case. We’ll have to put in a complaint to have them fix it up. While we’re at it, how about we put in a recommendation to fix up the attitude on the bartender,” Cen replied, her eyes still narrowed in his direction. The man turned around to glare at Centara and she could see that he was starting to feel the tension in the room thicken up as well. People were getting frustrated with the comments coming from the duo. It was becoming more apparent that they were not used to having their normal hang out dogged on by people of, what Centara would consider, a higher class. She, of course, was more than just a higher class but she still was unsure of how to rank Maverick. Turning her head back in his direction, she took one more glance over the bloke. He looked like he ran with the big boys and had money to spend, especially considering the handsome tip he had just left for the bartender without any intention of actually doing so. However, looks were always deceiving. More men nowadays wasted whatever galleons they had trying to impress a woman before going back to their rodent filled motel room to spend the night. Though he didn’t strike her as one of those types, Centara couldn’t help but wonder what class of men he truly ran with.

As he raised his glass, she proceeded to do the same with a small smile. As both of them tipped back their glasses, she could hear the grumbles from a few people around. Placing the glass back on the surface, she turned her stool around just as she had been sitting in the previous bar during Maverick’s brawl. She leaned up against the bartop and took a glance around the room. Using her hearing to pick out all of the sounds in the room, she found a conversation in the back of the room: two men discussing the pair and how to get them out. She couldn’t quite comprehend why they wanted to be rid of the two so badly, but a feeling within her told her the patrons had much more to hide than just liquor. Drear was home to many dark wizards and she couldn’t help but feel the presence of a Dark Mark in the room. At least one. Possibly they were worried about the two being Ministry? Drear Alley was more than comfortable with harboring black magic deals and dark magic followers. Proof was Centara herself and Der Keller, placed in the heart of the alley. If her thoughts were true and they were afraid of the couple being Ministry, she couldn’t help but feel sorry for the poor souls. Then again, who was she to say that the man at her side was not part of the Ministry. If he was, Merlin help his soul.

“It doesn’t seem like it has taken much for us to get their attention.” One last glance around the room told her that even though the eyes were starting to be removed from their place at the bar, the murmuring had not died down. Comments were reaching her ears, all focused on wondering who the two were, what they were doing there, if anyone knew if they were Ministry, possibly Death Eaters. It was rather entertaining. Placing one hand on her arm, she offered him a smirk before making her way off of her barstool and over to one of the tables surrounded by some of the scrawnier men in the room. “So gentlemen,” she began, standing between two of the men and placing her arms on their shoulders for leverage as she bent over. It was enough to tease them, but not nearly enough to give a show. “It seems like you don’t like us very much. I don’t think I quite understand. Is it the fact that we’re together? Or maybe it’s that we’ve had a shower recently, something that doesn’t seem to fit within your budget. Oh, or maybe it’s our ability to hold a conversation that doesn’t include a grunt. Please, help me figure it out so we can correct whatever wrong we have committed.”

[Maverick Dresner]

“...how about we put in a recommendation to fix up the attitude on the bartender,”

"It is just so hard to find good help these days. Let's just hope his bloodline is cleaner than these glasses," Maverick snarled arrogantly. He was falling easily back into the world of his upbringing, a world he'd nearly forgotten was still part of him. Sure he had the occasional reminder in day to day interaction with his parents, but the instances were scarce and their voices had long ago become white noise. "This will do, for now," Maverick added lifting his glass to his lips. If he hadn't watched to pour himself he'd have worried about poison, but even had his back been turned dead customers were never good for business, no matter how unpopular.

The bartender ignored the comments and gathered his coins. At least he was being well paid for the abuse he suffered. Maverick wondered if he was perhaps also the bar's proprietor. It wouldn't be surprising, the place wasn't huge, the location was well off the beaten path and the place was unkept, probably all run by that sour faced man who couldn't even manage a good scourgify charm at the end of the day. Maverick almost felt bad for him, but before he could get the proper chance his attention was turned back to Centara and their proper targets. He followed Centara's gaze to the back of the room where a pair of men stared daggers at them.

“It doesn’t seem like it has taken much for us to get their attention.”

"And for the first time tonight, I doubt it has very much to do with the cut of your dress," Maverick smirked as he watched Centara take a few steps before hopping off his own barstool and following after her. Maverick continued to sip at the drink he had pulled from the bar before coming Centara's side content for the moment to simply watch his partner in action, as she pushed the men closer to their boiling point.

“...Please, help me figure it out so we can correct whatever wrong we have committed.”

"Well, you know Cen. I have to be honest I think the real tipping point, was when I spilled my drink on our friends head," Maverick explained stepping forward and tipping the remaining contents of his glass onto the head of the man on Centara's right shoulder. There wasn't much left, but enough to send the man into a rage that lifted him straight out of his chair forcing Maverick up against the back wall with the wet haired man's wand at his throat. Maverick's fingers wrapped slowly around the hilt of the wand in his back pocket, but stopped there for a moment. He had a quick draw anyway and he was curious to see if he might be getting help from the girl he'd come in with, or if she was merely a spectator.

((super late and a bit short I can add more if needed))

[Centara Zealon]

Centara enjoyed flattery just as much as every other female and Maverick’s comment regarding the cut of her dress only gave her the satisfaction she needed to, once again, approve the purchase of the dress that afternoon. It was also the perfect thing to get her started on the right foot of teasing the men she was standing next to. He had followed her towards the table and she could see, the men were not pleased by both the words she had already sputtered and the fact that they did not get the female all to themselves. First their looks had been a grin before she had begun to speak, the two she was leaning on particularly beaming with pleasure, but then as she spoke, each of their faces began to fall. They were starting to realize she was not there to be a prostitute or a stripper for their pleasure. On the contrary, she had arrived to harass them even further than they already had been that night. She could feel the two boys under her try to shuffle out of their seats, however her arms on their shoulders pressed down hard enough to push them right back down to where they belonged. Despite their looks of amazement, Centara didn’t flinch. She was stronger than any soul within the bar and it didn’t take much for her to prove it.

"Well, you know Cen. I have to be honest I think the real tipping point, was when I spilled my drink on our friends head."

She didn’t even have to look to know where he was going with his comment. His footsteps were enough. He moved to her right and she adjusted slightly to make sure she would avoid any whiskey on her skin. Although it wouldn’t be the first time she would have alcohol poured all over her body and she didn’t mind ruining a free dress, she did not feel like smelling whiskey no matter where she went for the next day and a half. As soon as he had poured the drink over the man’s head, she could hear his heart beating faster and faster until he hit the breaking point. For a moment, she wondered if he would have a heart attack right there with the amount of anger building up, but instead he stood up, not really to her surprise. Cen moved out of the way of the table full of men, allowing them to have a full view of the two who were not starting to raise a commotion. Maverick was quickly backed up against a wall, a wand to his throat. Chuckling softly, Centara moved around to the side of the men, closer to the door to leave the bar. The atmosphere was beginning to get heated and she absolutely adored it.

Behind her she could hear the bartender grabbing his wand and to her right, the sound of chairs scooting across the floor. It seemed as if nearly every male in the joint was on their feet ready to jump into the fight if need be. “Wow, it looks like we really know how to get people in their feet,” Centara said, her hand reaching into a small hidden pocket within her dress. In a moment, it was pointed out in front of her at the back half of the bar. “Boys, do we really want to go there? Let the men work out their problems on their own. There’s no need for all of you to join in to back up your weak friend, is there?” she asked, taking a few steps forward. As she did so, she could hear the bartender behind her reaching out his wand. Her arm moved around in an instant and a streak of green light hit him square in the face, knocking him back into bottles of vodka. Her eyes didn’t even need to see the bottles to know because a second later, the smell filled the room. The white liquid had splattered all over his body, luckily covering up the stench he was admitting. Now if only she could do that to the rest of the people in the bar.

“I wonder if any of you have real dueling skills or if you all really are what you look like. Just smelly old men with no lives.” Taking a few more steps forward, her eyes wandered from them over to Maverick. “I wonder if we should have a wager, my friend.” Pacing around a few more steps, she came to his side. The man with his wand against Maverick’s neck seemed to be staring at her with a lot of confusion. It seemed every available wand in the joint was drawn but her guess? Most of the holders hadn’t used a wand in years and those that had were too drunk to know just where to aim and when. “After all, I can’t let you have all the fun tonight. What do you say? First one to take out their half of the room gets to keep whatever bottles aren't smashed behind the counter and whatever tips the bartender might have gotten?"

[Maverick Dresner]

Maverick held his right hand loosely suspended over the hilt of his wand. He doubted very much that anyone would notice in time if he made a full on grab for it now that Cen had stolen the stage, but with a wand at your throat picking the exact right moment was key. Where exactly in her dress Centara had found a hiding spot for the wand she had now pulled on the crowd Maverick couldn't even begin to wonder. But the way she was brandishing it, no one was likely to ask many questions. Unfortunately, the one man in the bar not to be taken in by the distraction was the one Maverick was most concerned with. His opponent hadn’t lowered his wand, but his gaze was shifting now, it was a good time to strike, but cutting off Centara as she struck fear into the hearts of an entire bar just seemed rude.

“…There’s no need for all of you to join in to back up your weak friend, is there?”

Maverick only grinned, letting escape a low chuckle as he watched Centara hoping to meet her eye and express that he backed her sentiment. The whiskey drenched oaf, holding Mav hostage, wasn’t taking kindly to being weak, and now was not the time to get clever. Suddendly Centara’s wand whipped toward the bar, there was a flash of green light, and the sound of bottles breaking. The rest of the scene was obscured from Maverick’s vision, but he was fairly sure he could have put the pieces together just from the looks on the patrons faces. It seemed Centara would have no trouble holding her own in this fight. Two against the room, but Mav couldn’t help liking those odds. Fear now hid thinly veiled by anger behind each of the faces in the mob, as they saw the battlefield unfold. Every wand but the one to Maverick’s throat now aimed as Centara. Surely, they thought, taking her out would be easy, by shear number somebody would have to land a blow, but the question they were really asking themselves was, how many could she take out in the interim?

Maverick grinned as Centara finished her proposition. He could feel the momentum swinging in their favor. Mav’s fingers finally closed on the hilt of the wand. He was sure now that every gaze was on the more immediate threat and no eyes would stray to his hand. “You’re on,” he shouted catching his captor off guard as he drew the wand from his back pocket it aiming it straight up at the wand that held him to the wall. “Expelliarmus,” Maverick called sending his opponents wand spiraling upward. As the man’s eyes followed his wand’s trajectory Mav drew back his hand, land a right hook square across the man’s jaw. To Maverick’s dismay however, whether it was alcohol taking the blow or shear rage that kept the man upright, he hadn’t gone down as Maverick planned. “Stupefy,” Maverick called quickly. Still at close range the spell sent the large man flying backwards taking out a few tables as well as his mates on the way to the ground.

Having vanquished his foe just in time, Maverick reached into the air to pluck his opponents wand from the sky and claim his prize. Now, with a wand in each hand Maverick began to make short work of his side of the room, firing off stunning spells and curses with the stolen wand, and warding off attacks with his own. Maverick worked his end of the room, using every piece of furniture against the room. Bodies tripped over chairs and smashed through tables, half drinken pints shattered underneath massive bodies. The quiet bar became a madhouse of spell work...until finally it fell quiet again.


((hopefully this works. I wasn't sure how you had the battle playing out but I figured there would be a lot of butt kicking. let me know if I should change or add anything ))

[Centara Zealon]

Maverick’s acceptance of the competition did not come as much of a surprise. Even though Centara had only met him earlier that night, she had already realized he had a taste for wreaking havoc. Almost like it was his middle name. Cen was enjoying his company thoroughly, much more than she had any human in the recent future. And now that she got to join in on the fun he already had? She was ecstatic. The others in the bar seemed far less entertained than the party crashers that had ruined their whiskey drinking. Moving around towards one of the tables, she saw their eyes following her and flickering back to Maverick every few seconds. Most of them already had their wands in range if not already in their hands and pointed in her direction. Each and every one in the room was itching for a fight and Cen was nearly scratching her skin till it bled. Looking over at Maverick, he shouted “You’re on” before grabbing his own wand in his hand. Game on.

The moment the man in front of him was on the ground, the two were off. She had seen something similar at a thestral race when she was a child. They all lined up, waiting for the sparks to fly from the wand of the man standing at the starting line, before racing down the track at full speed. At the image in her head, she chuckled softly while dodging a spell and countering with a rather unsettling, yet effective, laceration curse. It hit the five men who had been sitting at the table she so kindly gave a show to. Each of the men fell to the ground in agony as blood poured from their open wounds. The curse was a simple one, but very enjoyable for a vampire. If she was not in a room with someone she didn’t know and didn’t feel like killing for no reason, she would have not let a single precious drop go to waste but, alas, Maverick was in the room. So far since she had met him, he gave her no reason to kill him. If he had given her some reason to eat him, she would have, but so far he hadn’t even looked at her the wrong way.

The two made pretty quick work of the room and as it neared the last few, Centara was holding herself back. She didn’t need to show off too much, at least not until she knew exactly who her accomplice was. As his last fell, she sent her last male to the floor. She wasn’t sure if anyone was still alive out of the bar, but she did know her will power was rather strong to avoid getting on the floor and sucking each one of them dry. The smell of blood was so overpowering in the room that she was becoming mesmerized. To avoid getting even a taste was giving her a migraine. To resist something that was so strongly built into her system was difficult but she was doing it. And she would keep doing it until she left the bar.

“To the victor goes the spoils,” Centara commented as she watched a few of the men in the room groan and move slightly. With a grin she twirled her wand in her hand before sliding it back into its concealed spot in her dress. The bar had a few men lying against it but she merely stepped over them as she made her way behind the counter. The broken glass of the bottles she destroyed crunched under her feet. The smell of alcohol was just as strong as the smell of blood and it was beginning to pull her migraine into a completely different direction. Stepping through the mess, you would think none of the bottles had survived, but she knew one did. Bending down behind the counter, right above the bartender, she reached under the counter wrapped her hand around the neck of the only remaining bottle behind the bar. She pulled out a bottle of rather fine, vintage whiskey and sighed softly. “Too bad. Remind me next time to try and win,” Centara added as she stood up from where she was bent over. Stepping over all the men she had just knocked over, Centara made her way to where Maverick was, handing him the bottle. “Next time you won’t be nearly as lucky as you were tonight. But I think I’ll let this one go.” Smirking, she leaned closer, placed her hand on his cheek and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

When she pulled away, Centara turned around and grabbed her clutch from the bar top. “And we’ll call that a good night kiss, shall we?” She smiled over her shoulder towards him before stepping out the door into the night air. Though she couldn’t feel a thing, she was sure it was cold and she was also sure that the speed at which she moved, it would have been even colder. She never gave him a chance to say a word. After such an entertaining evening, she couldn’t see herself sticking around long enough for it to be ruined by either of them. If he tried to find her, he would fail. She would be in Der Keller, satisfying her overwhelming desire for blood before he could even realize she was gone. But, soon enough, she was sure their paths would cross again. Who knew; maybe even in another bar brawl.

[[Hope you don't mind me cutting it off. I figured we could pick this up at another post down the line. Maybe the gala, maybe some time after the gala. Sound good? If not I can edit.]]