[Ganerdene] A law-abiding business on a law-abiding day

A week since the recent catastrophe. Three days since Dragomir opted to wake. When the tsunami warnings came, the vampire had opted to lock himself into his cellar and fall into slumber. It was safer for him that way. He couldn't drown and whatever was up there that was capable of breaching the Manta Carlos wards was certainly more dangerous to him than a bit of water. As for the people he could have helped, the victims of the wave itself, those killed by mermaids or the victims of mad killers... Well, to be perfectly frank, they were going to die sooner or later anyway. It wasn't Dragomir's obligation to help every poor sod who couldn't fend for themselves. The islands were fine after all (to be honest, Dragomir had doubted them for a while) and repairs were already being made the first night that Dragomir emerged from his underground haven.

This night though, he had a goal. Every so often, Dragomir had passed what was apparently some kind of "blood bar", catering to his kind of clientele. Well, not his kind exactly, he had yet to find anyone with identical symptoms to his own, but close enough. Nocturnal creatures feeding on blood. Vampires. This bar was altogether too expensive for him, but perhaps it could serve his purposes in another way. Simply put, Dragomir needed work. He had developed a slight hoarding habit during the last centuries of mercenary work, but he couldn't continue to pay for his current residence with money from that stash. He needed some way to cut even, at the very least. No home meant no shelter for the sun, which spelled certain doom for him and, well... He's not exactly against the idea of dying anymore. He's actually quite neutral to the prospect, but that really feels like quite the anticlimactic way to go out. When his time comes, he would prefer it to at the very least be something he can feel some degree of satisfaction about.

That and he just needed something to do. He was going stir-crazy just staring at the walls of his home. Perhaps some kind of job could knock off a bit of the monotony.

With these thoughts, the old monster reached his destination. He had to hunch together a bit to make his way through the front entrance, but it was easy to tell that this was a familiar motion, something he already did numerous times per night. Dimly lit, with a strong and rather alluring smell... Yes, Dragomir could see how this place managed to become popular. A few heads turned as the malformed titan began to stride towards the bar disk, but he'd assume that he wasn't the strangest thing on Manta Carlos. A man hurried past him on his way out, avoiding his gaze. Fearful? Perhaps. Wouldn't be an unexpected reaction. Without any hesitation, he reached the bar itself, looking at the... Insect lady. Hrm. He had expected another vampyr. Perhaps she was simply an employee.

"Do you own this bar?" His voice was flat and a bit of a mumble ("d'you own th's b'rr?"), but a rumbling baritone nontheless, coming from somewhere deep down in his throat. While he stood upright, keeping his full height, he was looking at the woman (who was about his own height, actually, a rare sight) with his entire face. A habit he had picked up. It seemed hard for others to pick up on him meeting their gaze with his eyes alone, what with those black beads of his. He didn't intend to appear threatening, but it was not unreasonable to interpret the situation that way. It was easy to judge someone like him, after all.

Hm, so the owner of this establishment was not a vampire after all, but some kind of insect-like being. Strange. Dragomir had expected someone that arranged these kind of businesses to at least be relatable to his own condition. Then again, mosquito. New kinds of monsters around every turn, magic in every other building. Back in Europe, he had done a lot and fought in a lot of wars, but he had only met a few spellcasters and what he was certain was some kind of demon (though it denied any such allegations itself) during his almost five centuries of... Unlife, he supposed the proper word was. Manta Carlos was far from anything he was used to.

Well, enough musing about things that hardly mattered in truth. Dragomir shifted, crossing his large arms over his chest as he spoke. "My name is Dragomir." He began, figuring that he might as well properly introduce himself. He wasn't one to sign up for normal employment interviews normally, but that felt like the right thing to do, to the extent that he cared. "Vampire." He added, as if it needed clarification.

His voice droned on, only taking a second to inhale. He didn't need to breathe, but he did need air to exhale to make any real sound, like most people. "People are saying that you are hiring. I need money." Straight and to the point, he saw no need to beat around the bush. This mosquito-lady did not seem like the type who would be insulted by his choice of tone. "I have fought in several wars. Do you need a bouncer?"

An oddly structured sentence to some, but to Dragomir, it made perfect sense. He had battle experience, he was strong and knew how to hurt people if need be. Certainly, that would suffice for a martial profession like security? It's all he ever needed to talk about when "hired" by other employers throughout the years.