Jett Lavelle committed a series of various, hilarious (to him), and intense crimes every night. Usually, robbery with maybe a dash of torture or death. His kill count was actually not as large as some might have imagined it.
On this particular night, Jett wasn't looking to rob someone. Been there, done that, 'n' all. He was thinking about something far more fun. Sometimes, he just wanted to be bad for the sake of it. That wouldn't surprise simpleminded people.
He waved off the thought and searched the few people still out and about in the city. It wasn't late enough for the Nocturnals. The sun was only just setting, coating the city in shades of bright pink and orange.
The Skinwalker was lounging on a bench near the park with his car parked inconspicuously along the curb with a few others. Average, average, average. This place seemed downright normal once you'd been here long enough. Jett hated that. He missed the wonder. The wide-eyed staring and dancing around, too excited to sleep.
@Emy
Niccolò Belmonte
Niccolò was a great lawyer and he was also completely smashed, meaning that it was also perfectly acceptable for drunks to be great lawyers and for great lawyers to be drunks. At the very least, he could still recite all amendments of the Manta Carlos constitution backwards so he was obviously still functional.
All of the streetlights in the distance were starting to blur with the aurae of various passerby, however. This was, regrettably, not photograph-able. If it was, however, Niccolò probably would have called the picture "Freedom at last!" as he finally closed the longest case of his career. What had started as a simple custody case then became two, and then three, and then multiple people had been extradited because polygamy was frowned on most places that weren't Manta Carlos and even if it wasn't, it still was kind of a jerk move to not inform any of the spouses of what exactly their marriage was.
It was actually something that should go into a book one day. Since Niccolò couldn't write it himself, he was hoping one of the kids would give in and do it.
It was in the middle of his not-quite victory round through the city that he caught sight of a particular aura. With the amount of supernaturals around, the sheer variety tended to desensitize people at remarkable speeds but this aura was just odd. He squinted at a man sitting on a nearby bench. Even if he was drunk, Niccolò knew it wouldn't affect his aura sight in the least.
Niccolò was a great lawyer and he was also completely smashed, meaning that it was also perfectly acceptable for drunks to be great lawyers and for great lawyers to be drunks. At the very least, he could still recite all amendments of the Manta Carlos constitution backwards so he was obviously still functional.
All of the streetlights in the distance were starting to blur with the aurae of various passerby, however. This was, regrettably, not photograph-able. If it was, however, Niccolò probably would have called the picture "Freedom at last!" as he finally closed the longest case of his career. What had started as a simple custody case then became two, and then three, and then multiple people had been extradited because polygamy was frowned on most places that weren't Manta Carlos and even if it wasn't, it still was kind of a jerk move to not inform any of the spouses of what exactly their marriage was.
It was actually something that should go into a book one day. Since Niccolò couldn't write it himself, he was hoping one of the kids would give in and do it.
It was in the middle of his not-quite victory round through the city that he caught sight of a particular aura. With the amount of supernaturals around, the sheer variety tended to desensitize people at remarkable speeds but this aura was just odd. He squinted at a man sitting on a nearby bench. Even if he was drunk, Niccolò knew it wouldn't affect his aura sight in the least.
Jett knew when he was being watched. He stopped what he was doing and turned his gaze to the decidedly intoxicated man staring at him. He smiled cheerfully. That was not his first choice of prey, a little big, but it would do. Sometimes, good things just found bad people.
He stood and walked over to Nico, speaking as if they'd know each other all their lives. "Wow, you sure do look chipper, bud! Good day? I'd offer you a drink, but I think someone beat me to it."
Jett feigned concern as a flash of realization crossed his eyes. "You look a little pale."
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Niccolò Belmonte
Yes, there definitely was something weird going on here. Now that he was being addressed, Niccolò could even take a better look at that aura without seeming creepy! Not that he was trying to be. Creepy, he meant. Joshua would have told him that he was being creepy.
"I guarantee you that I am in absolutely no danger of alcohol poisoning," Niccolò said with a characteristic beaming grin. "I am also not violating any of Manta Carlos's public decency laws." Not that anybody asked but somebody in the nearby vicinity was probably thinking it. True to expectations, a woman shot him a scandalized look and hurried away, high-heels clicking rapidly into the distance. He just shrugged back at the man with the strange aura.
"I am absolutely, perfectly okay," he said again in solid reaffirmation, taking just a moment to process the pale comment. Him, pale? It was a bit of a laughable idea, actually, and it made him think of Joshua every time his friend went to get blood drawn. There was just something very ridiculous about this, what? Grumpy six-foot seven man passing out at needles. "You should see some of my friends; I'm a mud-pie in comparison." Or his cousin, for matter of fact. He was only seventy percent sure that Paschalis was allergic to the sun.
Niccolò squinted suddenly, nostrils flaring and the very picture of somebody who had just come upon a puzzling fact. He was maaaybbeeee a little drunker than usual. Wow. That took some trying.
Yes, there definitely was something weird going on here. Now that he was being addressed, Niccolò could even take a better look at that aura without seeming creepy! Not that he was trying to be. Creepy, he meant. Joshua would have told him that he was being creepy.
"I guarantee you that I am in absolutely no danger of alcohol poisoning," Niccolò said with a characteristic beaming grin. "I am also not violating any of Manta Carlos's public decency laws." Not that anybody asked but somebody in the nearby vicinity was probably thinking it. True to expectations, a woman shot him a scandalized look and hurried away, high-heels clicking rapidly into the distance. He just shrugged back at the man with the strange aura.
"I am absolutely, perfectly okay," he said again in solid reaffirmation, taking just a moment to process the pale comment. Him, pale? It was a bit of a laughable idea, actually, and it made him think of Joshua every time his friend went to get blood drawn. There was just something very ridiculous about this, what? Grumpy six-foot seven man passing out at needles. "You should see some of my friends; I'm a mud-pie in comparison." Or his cousin, for matter of fact. He was only seventy percent sure that Paschalis was allergic to the sun.
Niccolò squinted suddenly, nostrils flaring and the very picture of somebody who had just come upon a puzzling fact. He was maaaybbeeee a little drunker than usual. Wow. That took some trying.
God, Jett fucking hated trying to kill men. This island, being the hogpog of supernatural entities that it was, never ceased being interesting when one was on the hunt. Okay, so this guy could handle his alcohol pretty well. Jett wasn't a big drinker, but he made exceptions.
Jett glanced at the woman who hurried away and gave a pleasant roll of his eyes. "Eh, people are silly. That some power, not being in danger of alcohol? Man, I'd love something like that. You like champagne? I wanted to open a bottle with a friend, but he ditched me. A real pity, I just got a promotion. Eh, I guess Jeff has never been the most reliable fellow."
Jett rubbed the back of his neck, flushing at his rambling. "Sorry. I'm rambling. That was my way of inviting you for a drink. Better than feeling like some rich twit drinking champagne alone at the park. What do you say?"
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Niccolò Belmonte
Niccolò chuckled. "Power? Eh, something like that. Minor healing factor, actually. Good for living through the worst of secondhand smoking and also for keeping my liver in pristine working order." It was also fantastic for getting through the most boring cooperate dinners that had any business at all existing in God's domain. Sometimes alcohol really was all that was needed to fix life's problems.
"Well, I'm never one to pass up an opportunity to drink another glass," he said cheerfully in consideration. "Do you mind if I pick up the bottle myself? My treat! It's a celebration after all, isn't it?" He wasn't completely without self-preservation, after all. It was just a little bit safer to be choosing his own poison, metaphorically speaking. A little bit.
Okay, so he just wanted to be sure that the booze was good. That was perfectly fair. It wasn't like he couldn't afford it, anyways.
Niccolò chuckled. "Power? Eh, something like that. Minor healing factor, actually. Good for living through the worst of secondhand smoking and also for keeping my liver in pristine working order." It was also fantastic for getting through the most boring cooperate dinners that had any business at all existing in God's domain. Sometimes alcohol really was all that was needed to fix life's problems.
"Well, I'm never one to pass up an opportunity to drink another glass," he said cheerfully in consideration. "Do you mind if I pick up the bottle myself? My treat! It's a celebration after all, isn't it?" He wasn't completely without self-preservation, after all. It was just a little bit safer to be choosing his own poison, metaphorically speaking. A little bit.
Okay, so he just wanted to be sure that the booze was good. That was perfectly fair. It wasn't like he couldn't afford it, anyways.
Jett glanced at the cheap bottle of champagne he had before shrugging. "Sure, why not. More is always better. Got a particular place in mind?"
Jett could smell the booze leaking off this guy. He knew an alcoholic when he saw (or in this case, smelled) one. Minor healing factor? of fucking course he had one of those. What asshole didn't around here? God, he hated all of them. Lucky bastards.
He did mention it was minor, however. Which meant Jett could work with this and he was fine with being this man's bar buddy for the night.
"I'll admit, I might be in the mood for something stronger. Know any good bars in this area? Not my usual hang out." He stood beside Nic after gathering up his things.
Suddenly, Jett froze and rubbed his face with his free hand. "I... didn't give you my name, did I? That's rude as fuck. Sorry. Tom Radley. Pleasure to meet you."
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