The loud music, the barely dressed women dancing to the bass and beat with tantalizing hip swings and sexy smiles meant to make the men looking at them feel as though they were meant for them and them alone, the thick smog of cigarette smoke mixing heavily with an overabundance of perfume worn by the entertainers... It was almost enough to make him forget about the life that he and his little sister had left behind with determination to never look in that figurative rear-view mirror. Until that song began to fill the brick walls of the strip club. The muscle in his jaws tense from beneath the hood that still draped over his messy caramel colored locks, forest green eyes growing even darker for a moment as the image of a woman surfaces to forefront of his thoughts. He'd met her at a party when he'd been twenty-one and stupid, greedily taking whatever drinks of all sorts that he could. Jager bombs, bitch beers, orange soda laced either whipped cream flavored vodka, there wasn't much that he hadn't had to drink that night and everything was blurred as he danced with whatever women would fall for those sickeningly cheesy pickup lines and various other tricks he had up his sleeve to earn him their temporary affections. Then she walked through the threshold of his buddy's house full of hot bodies and strong alcohol. No amount of whiskey or rum could ever make him forget those milk chocolate eyes that met his across the sea of blurred faces, the way her ebony hair cascaded over her shoulders down to rest over those perfect breasts peeking out from beneath her skin-tight cocktail dress she'd showed up in. That smile those blush-colored colored lips had given him, the way that those thick lashes fluttered over those spanish eyes...

He is freed from the image of his ex-girlfriend when the sound of his glass hitting gently against the bar announced the arrival of his drink. It was a welcomed distraction from those less than desired memories of the only woman he'd met that had been able to completely captivate him. Perhaps that was why his eyes had continued to linger on the dancer who still made her way around that stage. As much as she looked like Isabelle, the wrench in her sparse clothing could never come close to the level that she had. No one could. There had been a fair number of easy lays he'd been able to convince into bed with him, especially since despite the temper that was only just beneath the surface of those dark green eyes and that wolfish grin there was no admitting that he wasn't particularly hard on the eyes, but of all the women he'd had since Isabelle, not one had managed to be considered in his mind as more than a delicious one night stand that he knew his little sister hated him taking part in. She knew when she would come home from school and the house was dark and silent that he would not be coming home until the early morning hours. If he wasn't home before her, then he wouldn't be home until well after midnight if not at first light of the next morning. Sure, she'd told him he should slow down and maybe try to find a girl that he might want to settle down with one day but he'd only scoffed at her suggestion and told her that a wife was the last thing he intended to tie himself down with. Besides, if he didn't have a family to lose (aside from Elain, of course), then he wouldn't have to relive the past he was determined to bury six feet under.

Deciding that his jack and coke was more appealing for right now than the woman on the stage that reminded him too much of Isabelle than he really wanted to think about, he turns in his wooden stool, back now turned to the stage as strong hands grasp at the cold glass. Lifting the glass to his lips and letting the sweet smoothness trickle down his throat in the form of a good-sized swig, he then lowers his drink and stares at the cubes of ice floating in the dark liquor and soda. For now, he was surprisingly calm... but that was all about to change quicker than any would anticipate. There is movement beside him that catches in his peripherals and more out of reflex than anything else, forest green eyes find themselves resting upon ivory hair and icy blue eyes. For a brief moment, the ever-present male instinct to appraise the creature he hadn't even noticed when he'd decided to seat himself at the bar. She was quite the beautiful thing he thought, with that slender body and those gentle curves that gave her a pure femininity that on any normal day would have encouraged less than gentlemanly remarks on an invitation to a party for just two. Despite the steely cold of her gaze, there was something... searing in those pale depths, like fire. Something about her definitely wasn't human, that much was a guarantee though he couldn't quite put his finger on that sensation he was getting from her. Now, there were two ways that this little encounter could go. He could have simply turned away from her and stared absent-mindedly into the depths of his drink and she could have gone on her merry way; that would have been the peaceful and plain end to this short story. But that wasn't what happens.

No, instead the woman beside him decides to take the second path. She turns in her seat now, those icy eyes of hers colder than a winter's night as barbed words slip past those pretty lips of hers. He can smell the bourbon on her breath and he would almost say she were a little tipsy, but without those ice-cold words slurring he was confident that she was one-hundred percent coherent. Instead, that signature wolfish grin tugs at the corners of his lips as he intentionally allows for those daring dark green eyes of his to savor those curves again and the gesture almost speaks for itself in a "think you scare me?" kind of way. A low chuckle rumbles in his throat as he looks away from her now as though he were hardly interested in starting some petty little scuffle."A pissy witch, apparently", he states matter-of-factually, amusement laced in those tenor tones that slide lazily over his tongue. Again, she could have just left with a disgusted look that Lazarus was more than familiar with being on the receiving end of. Sure, it would have been a little harder for her to leave, but it was still possible at this point and he half expected her to do just that. Instead, she continues to metaphorically poke the bear with that stick of hers, a menacing smile accompanying that timeless response that he also had heard only about a million times from other women and slowly he can feel the agitation in his blood growing hotter though he continues to wear that wolfish grin, deciding that he doesn't want to give her the satisfaction of his temper if he can help it."No thanks babydoll, I'm good. I can find better I'm sure", is the reply she receives from his molasses smooth tones. Man, someone did something to piss this chick off. He is about to reach into his wallet and place the money for his drink on the counter to leave like Elain would want him to do, but what she says next stops him from doing so. Perhaps it was the fact that she knew nothing about the type of guy he was, that he had come here just to enjoy a night to himself with some slutty entertainment without the actual intent of bringing anyone home - not when he was expecting Elain home in the next few hours â€" but for whatever reason, he can feel his temper rattling against the brittle bars that contained it. Somehow managing to keep the anger at bay with a wicked note of laughter clearly hiding the fact that he was dangerously close to getting himself into trouble he didn't really need Elain knowing about, he finally reaches into his wallet, places the cash next to his glass, and rises from his seat."Maybe when it's your shift, I'll come back and give you a little tip if you dance real nice for me. But don't take your bad mood out on a guy just trying to enjoy himself a little because no one wants to take you home tonight", he replies, giving her a wink to add a little extra fuel to whatever fire was burning beneath her skin.