Chapter Text
Angelus snarled at the moon, frustrated by the way things were currently going in his life. William and Dru were quite loudly passionate about each other, and otherwise content with things. The were being quite happy together back at their current abode right now. But tonight, rather than trying to join in on their 'happiness', he'd just felt restless and annoyed. He'd gone out walking, debating the short list of things to do in Kyoto after dark. Darla was off impersonating a Geisha, and undoubtedly drinking rich old men dry. That only left the handful of minions they'd accumulated, and that would be worse than the boredom.
He continued down the street, considering that the streets here had a bit less garbage along them, which was a small benefit when he heard the noise. It sounded like growling. Curious, he decided to find out what was going on.
Four fledgling vampires circled a broad man, rather short, with wild dark hair. Not Japanese, no, this man was from the West, and there was no fat on him, just wide expanse of muscles. And a sharp looking sword that he'd drawn. The man stood ready to fight, glaring at the vampires without the faintest hint of fear.
"Which of you misshapen bastards wants to die first?" His words were hostile, a clear challenge and defiance to the predatory nature of the fledglings.
Perhaps if the fledglings had been a bit wiser, they might have paused to consider the source of this man's confidence. What reason would he have for being unafraid at the sight of four hungry vampires? But they were young, and their hunger had made them stupid, so they attacked. The man may have been stocky and short, but his movements were sheer poetry. Not the inept ramblings such as William had once scribbled, but arcs of pure motion, the sword flashing like moonlight in the man's hands. It was a very short fight, and in the end, the fledgelings now dust that would mingle with the road, the man stood unharmed. He frowned, checking at something on his blade before wiping it clean and sheathing his weapon.
He was perfect. Not in looks, but in the way he moved, the way that he'd killed. This man would make a terrible and splendid childe. But clearly, he couldn't just saunter over and attack him, the fledglings had been a vivid demonstration of why that wouldn't work. Fortunately, Angelus was a Master Vampire, capable of thinking with more than his teeth. He had a plan.
He made his way towards the man, fixing a cheerful smile on his face. "Hello there. Good t' see another face that looks a bit like home. Fancy a nice drink?"
"You know any decent pubs in this city, Irish?" The man's question was thoughtful, and he leaned forward just a bit.
"Of course." He made a small gesture with one hand. "And the name's Angelus. Who might you be?"
"I might be a lot of people, but I answer to Logan." The man smiled, showing gleaming white teeth. "Lead on to this pub, Angelus, and I'll buy the first round."
Angelus could feel himself smiling as he lead the way to the pub. Logan would be a wonderful addition to the family, and he was even willing to buy some of the whiskey. "Truly, this is a night to eat, drink, an' be merry."
"Roman quote, isn't it?" Logan sounded as if he was trying to place it. With a small shrug, he seemed to discard the question. "Already ate, but a drink or three sounds good."
They entered the pub, settling at a table in a back corner. Angelus was smiling in anticipation. Once he got this man drunk enough, he would be able to take him down, to drain him and turn him. And the taste of whiskey in the blood would be delicious...
The drinks began to flow, Angelus alternating the payments with Logan. At first, he felt smugly certain that this man would fall victim to the whiskey long before he felt any effects of it himself. As they continued to drink, he found himself humming old drinking songs from his mortal days, feeling unexpectedly good about things. But he was Angelus, the Scourge of Europe... "And nobody drinkss me un'er the table."
"Is that right, Irish? Maybe we'll have to test that claim." Logan's voice was still steady, unblurred by the whiskey they'd been drinking.
Annoyance surged through him. "Of course tha's right! I can drink you down any day."
Logan had just smiled, and then it was a competition. He was vaguely aware of people gathering to watch, of murmurs and the soft clinking of coins from the side of the room as the whiskey kept coming. He had his pride to defend...
Angelus groaned, his head throbbing mercilessly. Everything felt stiff, and there was this horrible taste in his mouth. Dimly, he recognized it as a hangover. And for some reason, he was laying on the floor. With a table over him.
So much for that plan. Logan was gone. And his head was killing him. Slowly, he crawled out from under the table, discovering that the pub was deserted, the other tables broken, shards of glass and pottery mugs scattered over the floor. He tried to remember how that had happened. Something about a joke? Someone talking about dogs? No, it was foreign dogs. And then there had been a brawl, and more whiskey...
Leading to him waking up under the table. Damn.
Angelus began his careful trek back home, more convinced than ever that if he could ever find him again, and catch him off guard, Logan would be a great childe. But he wouldn't try to get him drunk again. Definitely needed a different plan to get Logan. But he was fairly certain that it had been a merry night.
end Drink and Be Merry.