Gracin Collinsworth is really impressed with how far the Crowbar’s come.
The architecture has always been impressive. The fact, Gracin isn’t sure as to how you could cram so much compromise into one place. Wanderers and weaklings left and right, and normally this isn’t a place he would ever set foot in under any other circumstances, but he is there to make a point. He’s in Chicago to make a point, otherwise he and Sheridan would be far from here, and he would have some other piece of business to attend to, but orders are orders and Gracin always obeys his. Bad things usually tend to happen if he doesn’t.
He knows from the minute he walks in the door that he stands out. He’s well dressed and well mannered—most of the people in here wouldn’t know proper etiquette if it decided to bite them—and his disdain with the place is obvious, but this is a power play, and he isn’t about to back out now. He makes his way to the bar and sits on one of the stools, his fingers making a face at the sticky substance that happens to on the top of the wood finish. He sighs, before looking up at the bartender with a thin smile.
“Dalmore ’62,” he says, before holding up his hand. “Two fingers.”
In a different part of Chicago, lurking in the darkness of Grant Park, Paz Mendoza is cleaning up after another kill. This time around, however, it isn’t a human—Wanderer or otherwise. She was looking for some fresh blood on her hands, but instead she finds some kind of beast that has fallen through the Rift instead. She’s covered in oozing blue blood, and has a corpse to deal with, but this isn’t really anything new for her.
It doesn’t stop her from feeling disgusted with the situation.
Never let it be said that she doesn’t clean up her messes, however. She drags the body out of the public view, pouring gasoline over the corpse. Striking the match, she looks it over for the moment, sneering at this mess that the Rifts leave for them to clean up, before dropping the match onto the pile and letting it burn. The smell will attract someone sooner or later, but that’s not really her problem, is it?
Finally, in a back alley alongside a bar in the grittier area of Chicago, Stefan Salvatore is escorting a pretty blond into one of the darker corners of the alley. It’s unclear if she’s there of her own free will or not, but she seems pretty relaxed with him, so at first there’s no reason to be alarmed. In fact, it looks to be your standard make out session until Stefan sinks his fangs into her neck and drinks her completely dry of blood.
Yes, he’s aware that this isn’t the healthiest way to be dealing with his issues, but he’s having a good time. And he should be allowed to have a good time in Chicago. He has always loved this town.
Once he finishes with his ‘date,’ he lets her body drop to the ground, before turning and making his way out of the alleyway and back onto the street. After a quick check to make sure he isn’t covered in blood and that his face is clean, he slides his hands into his pockets and starts walking. His appetite is sated for now, but give it a little time and that could change. Especially if the right morsel happens to come along.