2015.08.19 - Fangin' Out

**Emitter:** None

*Stop me if you've heard this one. A couple of vampires meet on the street...*

August 18, 2015

San Francisco

The vampire population is relatively large in San Francisco, but it's still quite miniscule compared to the population of humans. So the influx of thirty-some bloodsuckers - all with some flavour of British accent, is certainly a bit...unusual. These particular vampires don't seem overly bothered by the sun, either.

A few of them have wandered away from the group, and John Mitchell is left playing shepherd to try and round them up before they cause any trouble. He's stalking through the street, smoking. The sun is low enough in the sky that he doesn't need his sunglasses.

Damon's kicked back in his car which happens to be parked on this particular street. He's got some tunes playing and he's patting his hands to the beat of whatever drum solo is happening. While he's faking this having a good time thing, he's certainly got a look of boredom in his eyes. Which is made even more obvious by the way he turns and looks off in the direction of quite a few 'people' wandering around. All of a sudden.

"Huh." Damon takes a second to run a hand through his hair. "This should be fun." Damon grins to himself and pops up and out of his car. Time to make himself known.

If Damon happens to check his rear view mirror, Mitchell and the bald-headed, geography teacherly looking gentleman disappear from view. If he's anything like the other vampires though, he'll smell the difference without needing that kind of proof.

Mitchell comes back behind the bald-headed man and grabs him by the collar. He slams him against the wall. "What are you doing, Gary? Huh? What did I say? I was very clear about not leaving the funeral parlour. Very. Explicit."

Damon is on the back of his car and practically wishing he had a bowl of popcorn at this moment. He can tell that these dudes are certainly of a different than human ilk. And he likes it. "Rip his head off!" Damon shouts off in the direction of Mitchell and Gary. "Best way to send him back to the funeral parlor!" Damon throws on a big grin as he just inserts himself into this other vamp's business.

Mitchell has very expressive eyebrows. Those brows are doing their job with the very peculiar way he looks at Damon. He's still got his hand tight on Gary's collar. Gary, for his part, looks equal parts smug and afraid. "You must be joking," drawls the Irishman.

Damon hops down from his ride and takes some stylish steps off in the direction of the two vamps in whatever style of altercation this is. "Hey. I never joke when it comes to rippin' off heads. The tearing is half the fun." His slow walking and swagger disappears for just a moment because he suddenly appears closer to them than he was. He's right up against the wall thanks to vamp speed. He speaks right to Mitchell now, as if Gary wasn't being held by the neck right in front of him. "I can do it if you want." Damon shrugs.

Mitchell turns his head and inhales. Damon's scent is familiar, yet foreign - like a well-known recipe cooked with someone else's twist. He straightens and gives Gary's neck another jostle. "I don't kill my own kind. He may be a pain in the arse," yeah, GARY. "...but I'm responsible for him. He's just a child." Which is a funny thing to say about a middle-aged man, but he gets the feeling Damon will get what he means by that.

"Aw and here I thought you'd be more fun." Damon rolls his eyes slightly and turns to lean back against the wall fully. He crosses his arms over his chest and sighs with overdramatic flair. "You gotta' let your kids grow up sometime, man. But hey, you're responsible for him. I get it. Okay, no I don't. I don't have any responsibilities. They kinda' get in the way." Wow, Damon is just flyign off the verbal handle!

Mitchell steps back and gives ole Gary a shove off down the street. "Go! Go back. And if anyone gets attacked between here and home, I'm holding you responsible and I don't care if you did it or not." Which might seem like a weak-ass threat, except for the sudden fear in Gary's eyes. He touches his own canine teeth protectively, then shuffles off down the street, hands dug in his pockets.

Now that his straggler is taken care of, he turns his attention back to Damon. "Who're you anyway?"

"Damon. Bad Ass Vampire like you. Well, not so much the bad ass part, I'm guessin'." Damon flashes a grin and turns to the side to face Mitchell a bit more clearly. "Lookin' for somethin' to do in this boring as hell city. What about you? I mean, besides being Mr. Second Chances."

Mitchell looks rather unimpressed, but that doesn't mean he's going to underestimate the other vampire. He gives Damon the once over and pauses, while he considers. "My people and I were transported here from Bristol. I've been trying to keep them under control since we arrived, but it's like taking a bus full of children on the world's shittiest road trip to Candyland."

"Bristol? Where the hell is that, Jersey?" Damon is probably just being snarky so just take that with a grain of salt. "Eh, let 'em loose. What's the worst that could happen? A few humans die? Please. They're overpopulated as it is. Especially those Kardashians."

"Do I sound like I'm from fucking Jersey, mate?" says Mitchell in the Irishest possible way. "Bristol. England. That place across the ocean." He points off in a random direction. "One vampire on a killing spree is a problem. Thirty? They have no impulse control. I don't know if it's different with your kind."

"Depends on the vampire." Damon is all fine and dandy talking about vampires out and about. He's not too worried about keeping things a secret like a lot of other vampires are. "Who cares? So there's a mass killing spree in San Francisco tonight? Big deal. It's not like all these people are doing much with their lives anyway, right?" So cold, Damon. So cold.

"Are you serious, man? You really don't give a shit?" Mitchell smiles, now. It's an oddly genuine expression. "How old are you? Usually the cynicism doesn't kick in until a few decades have gone by." He looks more relaxed now, despite the other vampire's insistence that killing sprees are a good idea.

"This isn't cynicism. This is just boredom." Damon shrugs again because that's the best way to keep himself from grabbing a random human walking by and snap their neck. "I get violent when I get bored? I guess I /could/ go to a movie or something instead. But eh." Damon makes the so-so motion with his hand. "I'd probably just -- hey! That's it. Let's go find something to eat. You and me. Damon Salvatore and ol' Foreign Fangs. Let's have a night out on the town."

"Mitchell," says mister Foreign Fangs. "And unless you're talking a kebab, no, man. I don't do that shit anymore." A pause, then he adds, "It got boring. The killing. It's too easy."

Damon rolls his eyes. There's so much drama in the way he rolls his eyes he might as well be on a supernatural flavored soap opera. "Oh god. Another one? What is the deal with vampires not wanting to be vampires anymore? What the hell is wrong with all of you?" Damon plants an arm on the wall and leans his head against his arm. "When did it become so wrong to drink people's blood? Why is this a 'thing'?"

"When has that never not been a thing? Killing people?" Mitchell tosses a hand up. "Whatever, man. I'm not going to go into my reasons. Sounds like you've heard it before. But here's the big one. Thanks to the media, most humans know how to kill us. If we kill too many of them and they get wise, what do you think will happen to us?"

"Nothin'." Damon shrugs and is already pushing off the wall and fishing in his pockets for his keys. "I don't get close enough to anybody to let anything happen." Damon twirls his keys around his finger. "Remind me to introduce you to my brother. He's a vegetarian too. You two'll definitely get along." Damon's tone is pretty damn annoyed. Even when Stefan isn't around he's the better brother for bro-ships!

"So you don't give a damn about anyone? Not your own kind, even?" Mitchell's brows go up. "Wow." He whistles low. "You really must be an old one. No offense, but I hope I don't get there. I've known some bastards, but they were bastards with goals. Creepy...vampire world domination goals, but still, they had a thing going." He cracks a bit of a smile at that. "Do you pay attention to politics at least? Is there anyone in this town I need to worry about?"

"Couldn't tell you, man. I'm just passin' through." Damon offers this up as if he were dropping some awesome advice. "If I were you and I had to babysit the way you do? I wouldn't stick to any place too long. Especially a place with a rising body count." There. See? He's giving some advice! Not that he has any plans to raise the body count here in San Francisco!

"Yeah, well, we're not exactly the most mobile bunch. Fanged cats, that lot," mutters Mitchell. He pulls out another cigarette and lights it. It isn't going to kill him, so what the hell? "I heard that we're not the only ones who got picked up and dumped. Were you one of them, too?"

"Nah. I drove here to get away from -- a really bad decision." Better than admitting it was to get away from a girl. "Apparently, though, the witches around here think it's funny to play around with time and space. That's probably why you're stuck here. I'm workin' on finding my own witch to put all this back the way it was." Huh. Maybe there is a little bit of good in him.

"Mhmm," says Mitchell. Either he infers the nature of that bad decision, or he hears something in Damon's tone that suggests he shouldn't ask a follow-up. "Magic is not my forte. Demons, werewolves, ghosts, yes. But witches?" He shakes his head. "Met a succubus once." A beat, "Not as fun as you'd imagine. Specially since she didn't do anything for me."

"That one's a little out of my league. Never had the pleasure, really." Damon cracks a small smile as he leans back against his car, still twirling his keys a bit. "Witches, though. I know them. One in particular. She's /real/ annoying too. She probably caused all this just to piss me off. She succeeded."

"And how would moving a clan of vampires here from Bristol fit in with the plan to piss you off? Considering you don't even know where Bristol //is//..." Mitchell exhales a mouthful of smoke and shrugs. "I'm just saying, there's a hole in your theory, mate."

"Well, you guys are pretty lame. I mean, you don't even want them to live up to their violent and cruel natures. I'd say that's cause for annoyance at the very least. In fact, the more you want them neutered, the more I want to set them free." Damon looks up at the sky. "I think we might be enemies by the time all this is over." Another shrug from Damon's end.

"You'd be disappointed in them. There's not even properly cruel. It's just mindless chaos and violence to escape seeing the world as it really is." Mitchell takes one last drag from the cigarette, then crushes out the butt under his heel. "You might be right, though. Especially if you really do want to encourage them. Shame. You seem like an arse, but at least you're a straightforward one." He rocks back a step. "I have another one to go round up. And you have a feeding frenzy, right?" He cracks a smile in spite of everything.

"Eh. It's San Francisco. I doubt if anybody actually even tastes good here." Damon shrugs and swings himself over the door of his car and shuffles his way to the driver's seat. "See ya' around, Mitchy. Hopefully, it won't end up with me tearing your head off." Damon starts his car up.

"There's more entertaining targets than me. I'm too bloody cynical. You strike me as the passion-crushing type." Mitchell seems to intend that as a quasi-compliment. He lifts a hand towards the other vampire, then heads off at a quick walk. Now where the hell has Shirley got to?

Damon brings his phone up to his ear, "Stefan. It's Damon. I'm in San Francisco." Damon pulls away from the curb and begins his drive off towards those very difficult to navigate hills in this damn city. "... I found you a boyfriend. Call me back so I can play cupid." With a grin, Damon hangs up the phone and drops it in the passenger seat before speeding off towards a red light and running it!