Two Old Monsters
The vampire turned, resplendent in his sharply cut silk suit and the accesories, each one costing more than many people would make in a year. His face was shockingly old but still retained an aristocratic sharpness. He casually sipped at a snifter in his hand, the fluid in it a brownish burgundy. "Hundred year-old Scotch. Laid this down when I was doing a bit of slumming in the 1800s." Across from him, in the richly decorated hall, two mortal children carefully hovering behind him, Norton scoffed, wearing his own well-worn and comfortable tweed jacket and jumper with all the grace of a king.
"I'm sure that the taste is impressive, but I'm here because I need to call in a marker, Dionysus." The children kept Norton between themselves and the odd man with the strangely kaleidoscopic eyes. There was an undeniable tension in the room, two old monsters going through an old, old formality.
The vampire that had reveled in his role pretending to be a god of wine and madness hundreds of years before the name "Jesus of Nazareth" had ever been uttered, narrowed his eyes.
"Ah, I see it's one of those meetings. You really do need to learn how to enjoy life more, Thoth." For a very brief moment, Norton's shadow contorted, his head gaining the gaping maw and fangs of a baboon.
