middaeg | what is the sesame street number of the day??

If he hadn't guzzled a liter of blood earlier today, Makoto might have hesitated to meet a strange, flirtatious, probably older than him but it's really not clear because how does age work with knight fairies anyway woman at a cabaret bar. A cabaret bar that is, in her words, "at the edge of the red light district."

But he had, and he could still feel it in his gut, warming and energizing him as he pushed through the door of the New Moon. The hood of his cloak is pulled down over his face, helping him slip inside without anyone questioning his age - assuming anyone would have bothered.

Iramaat's antlers make her easy to find. He looks gloomy and maybe even a little disappointed in himself as he slips into the seat beside her.

"Hi."

Oh, there he is. She was half wondering if he'd show up. He does seem a touch young, even for a human, but she's never been one to really think about that. Instead, she leans on the table and then over toward him slightly, letting their shoulders bump together as she laughs.

"You don't need to sound quite so excited," she says, lips quirked in a little grin, "Even if I did go through the trouble of getting us a table."

There's a glass of wine in front of her and the table - well, it's more of a cozy booth - is toward the back of the room. The whole room seems to be dimly lit with soft light, and colored in muted, darker intimate colors. There's music filtering over the crowd and the hum of hushed conversation seems to permeate, along with a hint of smoke. It's an intimate little setting.

"Do you want anything?"

Makoto glances at his shoulder when she bumps him. He knows she's kidding, and he isn't exactly annoyed by it. Instead... well, how to describe the emotion that arose in that moment she touched him? It was the same as what he felt when Shinjiro butted heads with him earlier.

"An attache case filled with one hundred million yen in unmarked bills." Makoto glances back at her now. Between the low intimate light and their close quarters, she'll be able to see his face much better than anyone else here: despite his red eyes, pale skin and overall gloomy disposition, he looks pretty good for a vampire on his first full moon. His eyes aren't sunken in and his cheeks look full and supple.

"... do they have tea here?" He looks at her expectantly. She's paying, right?

"I'm not sure what a yen is, but I'm pretty sure fitting one hundred million of anything into a small case is a worthy feat of magic... unfortunately, I'm not a magician!" Iramaat laughs. She really has no idea what 'yen' is, but she finds the whole thing amusing. She gives him a long look, taking in the pale skin and the red eyes. Still, despite that he does look well enough.

"I think they do, although I'm more fond of wine right now," Iramaat shrugs and tilts her glass toward him, "Sure you don't want to try any before I order?"

Iramaat, as it turns out, is a terrible influence.

"Yen is money," he mumbles with a slight eyeroll - of course she wouldn't know what that is. His humor is being wasted on this flirtatious deer fairy knight.

After sparing a look at Iramaat's wine glass and considering her offer, Makoto raises his hand to stop a waitress as she passes by. He stares at her scanty cabaret uniform, blinks, and eventually says, "I'll have a glass of the same wine, please. Same tab."

As the waitress walks away, he sits back again and looks to Iramaat. He isn't smiling, but there's a competitive twinkle in his eyes.

"I've had wine before," he says cooly. "I've been someplace like this before, too."

Sort of. A dance club is sort of like a cabaret, right? Except it's the clubgoers who are scantily-clad, not the employees.

Oh, so he's daring. Iramaat appreciates that and doesn't bother to hide her smile. Instead she settles her chin in her hand as she takes a lazy sip from her wine-glass, watching and listening as he talks.

"Oh, have you? I wouldn't have guessed. You don't seem the type."

Which is true enough. He's certainly not the sort of young man she'd imagine meeting here.

"But you seem ready to accept the challenge, so I don't think I can really doubt you. Although..." She tips him a little wink, "You were certainly staring at our server a few moments ago, so maybe you're not as experienced as you pretend to be."

"I'm seventeen. What do you expect," he says with an above-it-all shrug. "Also. Don't underestimate me."

Is there a need for more of an explanation than that? Well, maybe that second part does, but he feels he's made himself fairly clear in as few words as possible - just as he likes it. Iramaat is strange alright, but she isn't so hard to talk to when you've got several dates with Elizabeth under your belt. If any average human teen would be able to carry a conversation with Iramaat, it'd be Makoto.

He puts his elbows on the table and leans his chin in his hands, watching her.

"...I drank blood today. My suspicions were right. Vampire."

"Perish the thought," Iramaat replies, as innocently as she can. To be fair, she underestimates most humans. Comes from a long, long life of treating them as objects. Can't be helped, really. She sips her wine again, head cocked slightly in his direction.

"Oh, well, that's that mystery solved. Did you enjoy it? Drinking blood, I mean."

Makoto glances at the ceiling thoughtfully. "...Not really. But, I didn't hate it either. I was surprised that it didn't make me barf with disgust... and it did make me feel a lot better."

His eyes are drawn to her glass of wine. It's been a while since he managed to sneak a drink from an adult at Escapade. Would he be able to enjoy it, even now?

Pulling himself from the thought, he looks Iramaat in the eyes. "So, as a deer person, are you struck with a compulsion to eat grass or something?"

"Well, I'm glad you're feeling better at least... you certainly look better."

Look, she's not going to judge. She usually gets her jollies by tricking humans, so it's not like she can point fingers at people who drink their blood. They're still waiting for their server to return, so she tilts the glass in his direction, silently offering a sip.

"Eat grass? No. I do find myself more drawn to the outdoors, though. Among... ah. Other things."

She winks. Iramaat is an absolute menace.

Makoto looks at the wine glass for a moment and then accepts it. He takes a modest sip and hands it back. The acidic sting of the alcohol feels good going down, and when it hits his stomach, it mixes with the warm, digesting blood in a way that Makoto can feel.

It isn't a weird feeling. He elects to ignore this unpleasant realization.

"Other things," he parrots, a hint of a smile creeping on his face. He sits back against the cushioned booth seat. "So... salt licks, then? Wolf-free zones. Tasty grass."

If she's gonna mess with him, Makoto is happy to mess back. This kind of game is fun. It gives him more time to stare at her face, too, and seriously consider what she's clearly offering. How old is she, anyway? Not that it mattered too much to him.

Ah, better and better. He has her interest and attention now - beyond what it was before. Now she covets him a little. Wants to see what else he has in store.

"No salt-licks, fortunately, although if I do develop a taste, I'll let you know."

She laughs aloud and takes her glass back, electing to savor another slow sip of it as she considers him. What sort of human boy comes out to a cabaret to meet a mysterious woman? The interesting kind, apparently.

"Tell me, how have you been, your first days here? Well enough? Aside from the blood?"

Makoto doesn't yet know the extent of Iramaat's sneaky tendencies as a member of the fair folk, but he is starting to catch on. Listening has always been his strong suit, not talking about himself, but she likes to ask a lot of questions. If she's doing that to keep Makoto from getting to know her too well, he can relate.

"Sort of," he says with a shrug. He doesn't mind talking about himself for now. "I've got some friends here, but there's been drama. I've tried to stay out of our house to keep from contributing to it..."

But he'd failed to do that today. He still owes Shinjiro and Fuuka apologies. He wonders when his wine is going to get here.

"I made some new friends too, I guess. One of them helped me out earlier today, with... you know."

"Drama...? What kind of drama?" Iramaat leans in - fortunately just then, the server returns with the glass of wine for Makoto. They set it down with a cheery smile and a wink and then vanish back into the rest of the crowd. Iramaat waits for them to be gone before continuing.

"Trouble from home? Or something to do with all finding yourselves here?"

Ah, wine. With a slight smile, he reaches out and takes it in one hand, the stem of the glass between his index and middle fingers. This would be a good time for a diversion.

"How do I look?" he asks, completely ignoring her probing questions. Leaning away from her, he sits back against the chair and strikes a little pose, holding the glass up close to his face and eying her knowingly. "I'm a vampire already. All I need is a black cape and a high collar and I'm ready for a Halloween party."

Boo. He's not being that fun, but she'll play along with him all the same. She shrugs and takes a drink, peering at him over the rim of her glass.

"I don't know Halloween and the few vampires I've met didn't wear capes... but I'll take your word for it."

A pause and another sip.

"What is Halloween?"

"It's a holiday," he says apathetically, similarly miffed that she's not being very fun, either. She asks too many questions, he doesn't answer any herself, and she doesn't get his humor. Makoto wonders if he ought to try salvaging this date at this point.

"I don't know much about it myself, but I think it has to do with spooky monsters and stuff like that. It mostly just seems like an excuse for foreigners to clog up the late night trains while drunk and wearing costumes."

But here he is, drinking wine, and wearing Aefenglom clothes that could easily be described as a costume back home.

"To be fair, wearing costumes and enjoying some late-night revelry sounds fantastic," Iramaat responds with a laugh, "So I think I approve of Halloween, even if I don't know all that much about it."

She bumps shoulders with him again.

"Hazards of coming from very different worlds I imagine."

The shoulder bump creates little red ripples on the surface of his wine. He glances at her, still pouting a little over his conflicting feelings about her, and then knocks back the rest of his drink.

...not that he can do it very quickly or something. It takes him several gulps in a row. Look, he's still getting good at this.

Bluntly, as he sets down his wine glass: "Is that why you're not telling me anything about yourself?"

Let's see if this works. He looks back to her, his bangs half covering his face again. "Other than your interest in late-night revelry, which... is fair. What's your idea of revelry? How about that?"

Iramaat watches him down his drink with a trace of amusement in her expression. She's still nursing hers, but it's unclear if it's her first glass or not.

"Careful. That wine will go straight to your head, if you drink like that..." Iramaat laughs, low and easy, but doesn't really try to stop or chide him. And then he starts asking questions and she looks a little shocked.

"Makoto, please - I am an open book. If you think I'm hiding something, I'll have to disabuse you of the notion and tender my apology for whatever made you think such a thing."

Iramaat clicks her tongue and leans back in her seat, although she's still cozied up to him in the booth they're sharing. Beyond the darkened confines, music is still playing, someone is singing. There's the buzz and hum of other quiet conversations. But all of her attention is on him.

"All sorts, really. Good wine, good company, a quiet conversation over candlelight - or a walk in the park. A wild run through the moonlit woods. A midnight hunt," Her teeth glint white as she grins, "A touch of romance, perhaps. Finding time to get to... know someone. Dancing. If you want specifics, you'll have to be more specific yourself."

The wine probably will go straight to his head, between Makoto's age, scrawny build, and his seemingly declining health as he creeps towards undeath. For whatever reason, he doesn't care at the moment. He's had a long first full moon.

When she leans back in her seat, noticeably leaning against him, he sits back as well and turns his head to look at her sidelong. From this angle, she might be able to see behind his bangs to look at his entire face.

"The same things, I guess, although it'd be the human versions of that stuff. Dinner, dancing, doing something fun together, conversation," he lists, studying her. Maybe he should tell her more about himself. It might get her to talk more about herself.

"I know you're not human. You said you were 'fair-folk,' right? But I got the feeling you're familiar with humans."

"Very familiar," Iramaat replies, voice dropping slightly. Almost a purr now as she leans a little closer and the long, dexterous, elegant fingers of her free hand slide against his shoulder.

"And very familiar with all that sort of thing. Dancing, music, laughter..." She smiles, teeth white, and leans in a little more, until her forehead practically touches his temple. She's getting very cozy.

"Fair-folk like me are made of dreams. Of magic. We are wonderful and awesome in the truest senses of the word..." These words are meant for him; loq and quiet and intimate, "Doesn't that make you curious?"

"Maybe," he says. He slides one palm on top of her thigh without looking away. With Iramaat so close, he can hear her heart beating and feel her warmth. It's a good thing he'd already silenced his cravings today.

"I mean, as far as I know," he continues, "you kidnap little kids and bake them in pies or something. You'd tell me if you did, right?"

The question comes with a little smirk. He still senses that she's still being careful - there were no details on how or why she's familiar with humans. But yet, he's still not scared of her - at this point, he's mostly teasing. Her hair smells good, and that look in her eyes is convincing, and that's enough for him for now.

"I mean, I'd tell you if I wanted some blood. It'd only be fair."

"Oh, light of my heart, I never lie," Iramaat replies with a little laugh, eyes glinting in the dim candle and lamp-light, "Nor do I bake people into pies. Far too much effort, for one thing. And very messy."

She's joking. Right?

The feeling of his hand against her leg makes her heart skip a beat and she feels a flash of warmth and inordinate pleasure that he's responding so well to all of this. She's not sure she's ever been in a place with quite so many people who are so receptive to her. She adores it.

Her fingers brush lightly against the nape of his neck now, teasing the skin with a feather-light touch.

"But fair is fair. And I'll tell you if I ever have an intention of baking you into a pie."

She nuzzles in against his temple now, placing a light little kiss against the curve of his cheekbone as she does.

The brush of fingers and lips on his skin makes him close his eyes for a moment, taking in the sensation happily. There was a time when his interest in girls was mostly about filling that empty space inside him where family and friends would've been. He's not so intentionally alone anymore, but this desire to numb away his bad day with a generous female sure feels familiar.

"And curse me, and steal my soul, and spirit me away to the fairy world..." he went on, his smirk rising into a grin. His free hand takes hers, pulling it from her neck and placing it on his hip instead. "Et cetera."

After another pause, he leans in and kisses her back, placing his lips on the side of her mouth. She might be able to feel his beginner's fangs underneath.

what is the sesame street number of the day??

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