Drinks All Around (Open)

Wilhelm Amsel was not a fool, no sir, he’d survived all of these years quite well. If one would consider life in and out of places as quite well in it’s fact. He was a traveler, not poor, but a refugee of what had become a dark world for his kind. Mortals, hunted and captured, sold as if they were nothing more than cattle upon the market. That is the image that the world had carved into Wilhelm’s mind. There was no master for him, no protection, there was only hope. The hope that one day the world would change. The hope that one day his kind would rise up and take down those who turned against them. However, this time was far off, and there was much to be done until then. Though not a fool, it was not unheard of for a smart man to do foolish things. There were very few things that could have amused Wilhelm more than to indulge in foolish things that were potentially dangerous. This night was no exception to this fact.

A rustling of fabric would echo through the air, a cotton fabric to be exact, as Wilhelm edged around the corner. His hand raising to brush a bit of dirt off of the buttoned-up black shirt that he wore. It was difficult to stay clean these days, especially when one had to sneak around as he did, not even that white fabric vest was spared of any flaw. Upon that very vest were specks of dirt that tainted the otherwise elegantly embroidered fabric. The sound of his footsteps began to drown out, those black leather loafers no longer the center of attention for the sounds around him, the music from the nearby club became focused. He nearly paused at the doorway, considering whether or not the risk outweighed the gain, and smoothing out the plain black fabric of those slacks that rested to his scrawny legs. Wilhem rolled the thoughts over in his head somewhat, but it was a short-lived consideration as he soon found himself within the walls of that club.

The low-class, those that indulged in more filth than he cared to see filled his vision, drowning him in a sea of disgust yet he was amused by it, to say the least. His pale eyes stared around the room, lost within that very sea, and yet that amusement seemed to flutter away from those sights. Wilhelm’s pale sights focused on a distant staircase and his movements were made toward it. He touched no one as he passed, a feat in itself given the nature of clubs, but he managed it. His hand sliding over his medium-length sandy hair as he began to climb the stairs to the second floor. It was almost as if he feared that his hair would draw him unbalanced, but it was merely out of habit that he did so. The strands were released from the pressure of his hand upon reaching the second floor.

The sight before him here was much more pleasing to his senses. There was some sense of class, perhaps not as much as he would have liked, but he was trying to remain as under the radar as one could be. His pale flesh helped perhaps, but it was only in stereotype that it did. Wilhelm’s ears were sharp to the sounds around him. From the sound of the club music to the shout that echoed about free drinks drawing that attention of his almost immediately. Wilhelm moved from where he was toward the figure that called out to the crowd of people. A smile spreading those smooth lips as he spoke in a calm, collected, tone despite those surroundings. His movements stopped upon reaching this target, causing a necklace about his neck to bounce lightly upon his chest, his hand sliding onto the bar as he stared toward the man. “Does that offer still stand?” He questioned as casually as he could manage.

Words: 665
Muse: Great
Notes: <Insert witty joke here>