18469/Music of the Night in Metropolis

Music of the Night in Metropolis
Date of Scene:	30 June 2024
Location:	Eastside - St. Martin's Island
Synopsis:	A surprise meeting between Dracula and Miss Martian results in a surprising amount of civil discourse and even some teasing! It ends in a race to NYC!
Cast of Characters:	M'gann M'orzz, Dracula

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M'gann M'orzz has posed:
M'gann has taken to spending evenings in the skies over Metropolis, not really moving around or patrolling, perse, but hovering up in the sky in a meditative position while she works to extend her senses out across the city. Seeing how far she can push herself, how long she can hold it, attempting to focus her powers and hone them down to a razor's edge.

The side effect, of course, is that to another with psychic sensitivity or highly refined senses, they may feel 'watched' or otherwise as if their privacy is in danger of violation. It's happened a few times, where M'gann has had to apologize for the unintended intrusion, creating small spots of 'blackout' where that person's mind should be.

Tonight, she's trying to push out, to extend her senses further, reaching to see if she can encompass the entirety of Metropolis...

Dracula has posed:
It's business that brings Vlad to Metropolis. With his recent return to the living, relatively speaking, there are matters to be handled for several of his business operations that have been run by, admittedly exceptional, legal team of trustees. A firm with which he's worked for the better part of a hundred years, in fact. Some of these holdings are older still, important enough that it has brought the Lord of Darkness himself to the City of Tomorrow.

Obviously the meetings are held at night.

While it is speculative of whether Count Drakul of Romania is a vampire, it is not confirmed, nor is it important to the individuals whom have become very wealthy men thanks to the business their firms have done with him since the mid 1800s. The pensive, stoic, pale figure is wearing an impressive suit without the jacket. A blood red shirt with black tie and vest. Exquisit material imported from India, another of his holdings as it turns out.

When the telepathic sensation, near intrusion, comes upon him.

"I understand your concerns as it relates to a global market, Mr. Neils, but I assure you my team has handled the details with our foreign investors." Dracula never skips a beat, conversing business with the mortals around him while reaching out mentally to the mind some distance above.

Who are you. The presence is intense, but the projection is not an assault. Not particularly.

M'gann M'orzz has posed:
Oh! My apologies. I thought I had blacked out my senses from all the psychics in the city. I am M'gann M'orzz, Miss Martian, if you prefer. May I ask who you are?

M'gann can't help the embarrassed wince, regardless of who can or can't see her, letting out a small sigh as she pulls her senses in from around the city, focusing herself towards this new psychic signature. New, but at the same time.. Old. Strong. She gives off a sense of hope, but also caution; excited for a 'new' mind to connect to, but wary of who/what it might be.

She's on the move now, trying to pinpoint where this person might be, scanning not just mentally, but visually and auditorily as well. When Vlad was last active, there were no such thing as Martians on Earth, and the mere mention of such beings would have been ground for being committed to a sanitorium. But her mind is certainly alien in nature, strange, no matter how 'human' she tries to appear.

While not trying to intrude further into his mental defenses, she does use the signature as a means of trying to narrow down which area of the city he's in, hoping to effect a face to face meeting.

Dracula has posed:
"It is a matter of millions of share holder dollars that our factories remain productive, which is what I pay you gentleman for. I'm uninterested in excuses, I am interested in results. You are trade lawyers. Whom I assume, because I paid for your education, are the brightest minds in diplomatic trade laws..." Vlad's tone is far more curt when speaking with his lawyers and business partners, than with the mental voice probing at his mind. He snaps a case closed in his fingers, then slips one of the unfiltered cigarettes between his lips.

A dark skinned man in a very expensive, but unremarkable, suit steps forward to strike a match for him.

"Now, prattle amongst yourselves." Smoke curling from his nostrils as he stands, collecting his hat and cane from the edge of the table. "If something changes, you will contact Gustavo, and he will contact me." A dip of his head, all rise as he does, "Gentlemen."

Once he's out of view of the table, the Dark Prince makes his way towards the roof where a helicopter is waiting, "Gustavo, I'll meet you in New York." Passing off the cane and hat to his servant, who asks no questions. Only nods and continues after taking the offered items.

Alone, Dracula blurs into motion and hovers upwards into the air above Metropolis, directly in the path of M'Gann M'orzz, Miss Martian, who has been following his mental signature like a strobe. Which he's done nothing to hide. Point of fact, he's strengthened it. He's never met a Martian.

Black hair coils like smoke around his gaunt features. Green eyes with blood red rims around the iris stare at her.

May I ask who you are?

"I have many names. Vlad Tepes. Count Drakul. You may call me Dracula."

M'gann M'orzz has posed:
She catches snippets of the conversation as she draws closer, a smile twitching at the corners of her lips to hear the accented voice dressing down the lawyers for needing to do their jobs. He's helpfully strengthened the psychic signature, allowing her to reach him more easily, which could be cause for alarm in someone more prone to suspicion. M'gann is not that person.

Approaching quickly, the sudden blur of motion and appearance of the man in mid-air is cause for surprise, enough so that she can't halt herself in time and instead ends up phasing straight through him before coming to a halt a few feet away. Turning slowly, she faces his back briefly before swooping back around to face him directly.

Long red hair frames a face that's so pale white as to be almost glowing in the night, amber eyes practically glow from the black sclera, but she maintains a human form, despite the pale skin and odd eyes. Her head cants at the introduction and she blinks.

"The same Dracula from the Bram Stoker story?" M'gann pauses, then offers a sheepish smile, "Sorry if that's offensive or.. otherwise a bad reference." Her senses still extended outward, both psychic and empathic, trying to glean what she can of him while allowing him to do the same for her if he so wishes. She leaves herself largely open to at least surface level probing, offering the same courtesy she's asking of him.

Dracula has posed:
As M'gann phases through him it's as two ghosts passing through one another. He has no idea that she's capable of phasing and his body becomes myst in a man's shape, then reforms from the displaced particulate into solid unholy flesh. Turning to regard her over his shoulder, then watching as she sweeps back in front of him, Vlad remains curious in expression with his hands upon his hips. The act of flight is an oddity, in reality. Defiance of gravity. The higher one goes, the less gravity there is, point of fact.

Gradiants of atmopheric pressures. His hair dances upwards, low enough beneath the clouds that he needed concern himself with the radiation of the sun in the upper atmosphere where it always exists, high enough that he's only a shadow in the sky.

"The same." He says of her question. "There is no offense taken. I helped in the penning of the novel, in fact. Bram stoker was a guest in my castle for several months during the authoring." His smile flashes, dark, but genuine, upon pale features. "Obviously details were changed or exagerated for the purposes of entertainment."

Pale lips pull back from his fanged teeth. "Gary Oldman sought me out before he played me in the film. Lovely man. An exquisit thespian." He's watching her, not predatorially, but it's easy to tell that he is a predator. "A martian. From Mars? Or is that a nom de plume?"

M'gann M'orzz has posed:
For her, flight is more a matter of, well.. matter, and telekinesis. Martian biology is so completely different that it tends to defy description.. at least in life. In death, well...

She watches him with the same curiosity that he views her, both meeting a new being for the first time. She watches the coalescence of his being from mist back to flesh, while parts of his hair still seem to be ephemeral or gravity-defying. M'gann smiles slightly, "Interesting."

She gives a small nod of the head, chuckling over the thought of his helping to write the story that's about him. Or at least, the most well-known story about him. And finding out that he helped to exaggerate or change things enough to enhance the entertainment quality of the story. "Which parts were exaggerated? You have me most curious now."

Her own smile shows perfectly normal teeth that a human would have before giving a small shake of her head, "I'm afraid I've never seen the movie." M'gann pauses, then smiles faintly, "My people are from Mars originally, though none have inhabited the planet for.. millenia. Long before humans had evolved into being recognizable as humans. I was born in the Vega system."

Dracula has posed:
A lot about him is Ethereal because all of his physiology is based in magic. Dark magic, perhaps, but that's still magic. The way he flies is unnatural. As unnatural to what is natural as Martian soul is unnatural to Earths. When something has literally been dead for longer than entire countries, sustained entirely on the blood essence, the soul, of the living... That something is no longer very much what it eats, despite the pariables stating otherwise.

"Jonathan Harker was not British, he was German." The way he hovers is almost in oposition of the world around him. Standing. Where others bend their legs, it genuinely appears as though Dracula has his weight resting upon something that simply does not exist beneath him. "I still take care of his family to this day, through the Harker foundation. Point of fact, two of his ancestors are in my employ. Very brilliant lawyer. Now very wealthy."

The Vegas system.

He inclines his head curiously, "Let me guess, War caused the destruction of your planets atmosphere? Internal conflict led to global ecological destablization? Long before humans ever even evolved.. I wonder, as a student of the concept of evolution, what hand did your people play in the genetic manipulation of humanity?" Genuine curosity.

"I have always been fascinated by the concept of a 'missing link' between ancient and modern man..." Motioning upwards with a curled hand, like a Preacher in a pulpit summoning the holy spirit for the congregation, "Why men have always looked to the sky for answers to impossible questions. The existance of great works far beyond the technological level of a civilization.. tsk.. are you, then, gods? At least to simple minded mortal men, anyways. I've seen God."

"I was unimpressed."

M'gann M'orzz has posed:
There's no magic to the Martian race. Or at least, not much. It's debatable regarding the racial fear of fire, given that it was imprinted on them against their will by the Oans. But often their abilities appear to be magic, even if they aren't. Phasing, inviisbility, psychic abilities.. all things that could appear as magic without the proper knowledge.

"That's nice of you, to continue to patron the family for so long," M'gann smiles cheerily, hands tucking behind her back. "I can't think of many that would do the same, in your position. What of the.. relationships.. with Mina, and Lucy? That aspect always fascinated me, though I could never quite grasp why you would want to slowly kill her friend, if you loved her."

"Mmmmmmm, I'm afraid any information I could provide on that aspect of history would be considered propaganda. I only have one side of it, after all. But that is the general gist of what I know, yes." M'gann makes it clear that she isn't giving him a firm, factual answer, but one rife with bias and influence based on the ones recounting it. "As for our 'hand' in human evolution.. there is only one that I am aware of, and it's almost more legend than fact."

She lifts a small shrug and offers a wan smile, "I'm afraid you will not find much historical accuracy in the representation of my people. As with most sentient races, every account is reflective of its author. And whether or not they were on the winning, or losing, side." M'gann lifts btoh brows at him, "I presume you are speaking of the titular God of the Christian/Catholic/Judeo faith? I cannot speak to that, but I have certainly met gods before. They are as varied in appearance, temperament, and as fallible as any human."

Dracula has posed:
"Responsibility, dear." Dracula shakes his head at any notion of it being 'nice'. "In our contract, I fulfilled my obligation. He provided for me certain services and I, in turn, provided for him. The nature of which... well, I assume if he could have done it over, perhaps he would have made different decisions, but none could deny the effecacy of the outcome. His family is cared for. What more can a man want than a legacy to continue?" Again there's that ghosty grin, with his hands laid behind his back as she does. A mirror to the posture, though in an awkward difference due to their difference in size.

"Mina.. Mina... Ah yes.. Mina Murrey and Lucy Westenra."

Though he says their names, he doesn't speak for several long moments. With eyes half closed, seeing beyond the boundries of time and memory to ages long forgotten. When he opens them, he shakes his head, "Fabricated, unfortunately. Mister Stoker believe that Count Dracula would be villainized by a corruption of certain Godly moralities.." Vlad chuckles humorlessly, "The reality is a little complicated, I'm afraid. It was Jonathan for whom I expressed love and Mina, her name was Gertrude to be precise, whom I slowly killed. As an expression of that love. At least as I, or any being who has never experienced five hundred years of loneliness, could possibly understand love."

His eyes drop, one foot lifting to tap upon the air. There might even be a quiet tapping sound when he does. "Regardless, the love was not returned and business was better for it. While Mister Stoker was a lot of things, 'progressive thinker' was not one of them. Different times."

This does not distract him from the opinions of her people, "Of course." He agrees on this point, "Truth is always a matter of the best story. I've entire novels written about me, movies, television series.. What am I if not the embodiment of using truth as a weapon? Cuts deeper than swords, the pen. At least that's what they say..." Listening to her opinions, he nods. "So shall it be with humans. I've watched them grow, I've seen what they're capable of in their hate. I must, by dent of that understanding of them, assume all beings in the galaxy are the same. Micro organisms have no better understanding of power than a dog, but they destroy each other wholesale. Why wouldn't martians?"

"Why wouldn't Gods... Oh they are petty fuckers, Gods. Especially that God." Tapping a clawed finger in her direction when she speaks of the Judeo-Christian, "The Jews called him Yahweh.. all the same figure, called something different. Arabic, Jews, Christians.." He sucks his teeth and waves his hand as one might if they were knocking pieces off a chess board. "Fighting over the scraps of a vengeful monster whom cared so very little for them that he 'lets it happen'. So it's true then of Gods as well, hm? Who, I have to wonder, is without sin if even the Gods themselves are incapable of seeing beyond differences?"

"Forgive me, I do enjoy the sound of my own voice."

M'gann M'orzz has posed:
"Responsibility or not, the act itself, indeed the sheer longevity of it, is still nice. It may not have been intended, but it intent does not change truth," M'gann points out in return, lifting a small shrug even as she smiles. "I often *intend* kindness or niceness, but my lack of understanding of certain nuances or circumstances can create unkind or not nice consequences." She blinks at his question, then chuckles softly and shakes her head, "You are asking the wrong person, I fear. It is my most fervent wish to *discontinue* the legacy of my people." Size difference doesn't seem to bother her a bit. Then again, she can be whatever size she wishes, to an extent.

Listening to his story, she smiles faintly and gives a small nod, "I have heard the name of God invoked to justify many contradictory beliefs. A shame, the truth might have made for a better story. The one given never made much sense." She gives another small shrug and glances off, staring into the far distance, "Not so complicated. Though I'm uncertain how slowly killing a person is an expression of love for another." Glancing back, she quirks a faint smile, "But then, 'gender' is a fluid concept for me."

"To be entirely fair, if the oldest of stories are to be believed, we weren't always so. At one point, we were one race. One people. Still belligerent and dangerous, but united. It was the Oans that cursed us into becoming two people, at odds with one another. They presumed that because we were equally matched, that neither side could overcome the other. They were wrong. War broke out and half the race was wiped out. The planet left uninhabitable. Those survivors left and founded a home in a different system." M'gann chuckles, "But again, that is if the tales are to be believed. It is just as likely we were always this way and we were banished to where we were by a people that no longer exist."

Watching him for long moments, listening to his diatribe against God and Gods, regarding sin... she shrugs. "Sin is subjective. What is sin to you is not to another, and vice versa. Right and Wrong are not black and white, they have varying degrees that can blend together until it is difficult to tell where one ends and the other begins. It is up to the individual to make the choice that will be best for not just themselves, but those around them." M'gann smiles at him, "But then, there are no Gods in Martian culture. So perhaps that is influencing my own interpretation as well."

Dracula has posed:
"It is as you say then. An unintended kindness born of a very intentional responsibility." Dracula is not one to argue a point simply because he made it, if the facts present are sufficient enough to convince him. Even if he may present more to light that could alter the discussion. His smile remains, however ghaustly, upon his pale features.

"It didn't make sense, no, but so much of what I allowed written about me was fabrication and lie, it hardly seemed the most important point to suddenly become 'fixated' upon, hm? We could debate all night the importance of the sexuality of humans today and never grow dull, but in 1897 things were very different. Good or bad, it matters very little. Because I'm no more an activist for all of the mirade of social graces afforded the people today... I don't care for them. It's lovely to see, I suppose, as an observer, but in my opinion it's the nature of 'bordom'.. People who've had too much time on their hands."

"So much, in fact, they can fabricate new and improved ways to show how unique they are.. They are not unique. I'm nearly seven hundred years old, I've had lovers spanning every gender, and i no more have it define me than I'd have Bram Stoker calling his book an autobiography. The truth-" He purses his lips and nods, "-Is rather quite complicated. Suffice that anyone who describes who they are by who they fuck? Should get more hobbies."

His arms remain behind his back, head tilting curiously as she speaks of one people becoming multiple people. "So it is with Mortals. Popular evolutionary theory says we all originate from Africa. The craddle of civilization. One people, spreading outwards, until by dent of individual differences, they become many people." They "And then there's muta-humans and mutants.. Werewolves and vampires.. Artificial Intelligence, I hear, is making a rise in recent years. Imagine, think, and imagine... the myopic view Humanity will have when their own creation becomes aware of it's own existance. When they become God and those whom they create nolonger worship at their temple... Sin. I use it in the classical sense, of course. I behold myself to nothing, except that which I can manipulate, of course." A flicker of grin, "Sin included. I'm damned beyond the measures of anything anyone will ever truly understand and yet... Here I am, flaunting the absolute disdain for it like a new hat."

M'gann M'orzz has posed:
Inclining her head, M'gann offers a faint smile, "That sounds true enough. A suitable compromise, at the very least." Whatever facts COULD be offered, she can only work off of the ones she knows. And until he presents himself as otherwise, he falls under her rule of not probing the minds of friends and allies.

Lifting her shoulders once more, she offers a wry smile to him, "Again, you are speaking to the wrong person if you're seeking to make a statement about gender or sexual identity. While I identify personally as largely female-oriented, it would not be the first, or even second or third, time that I have transmitted as male. Or genderless, for that matter. Identification via genitalia is very much a humanoid construct." For a moment, just a brief moment, she appears as he does, mirroring his appearance exactly. Then back to her own form, the one she chooses to wear.

"Now in that, we are very much in agreement. But I have also learned that humans can be as stubborn as they can be anything else, and attempting to tell them such just gets spun about until you are the enemy for saying such. So I simply learn to smile, nod, and let them believe what they will. I have better things to do than debate their views of sexual identity and how it defines them." M'gann gives a brief grin before falling quiet once more.

She shakes her head at him and offers, "Not even remotely the same. The tales for us are that we were forcibly separated into two people by an outside force. One that changed us irrevocably. Supposedly because our power and potential, mixed with our belligerence, frightened them. Though, that could easily just be the stung pride of an ancient race speaking. In either case, the story has it that our 'evolution' into two peoples was not at all natural, but very sudden and forced." M'gann lifts a brow at him, "Damned? Are you certain of that? I've seen many realms, including variations of some form of 'Hell'... it seems that anyone who goes to one of those realms after death, does so based on their own belief. An act of will, of belief, could see you go from 'damned soul' to 'being forged from magic and will'."

Dracula has posed:
"Subjectivity." On whether Dracula is something good, bad, or a measure between.

He's not much for debate on the matter, given his opinion is the only one for which he cares in regards to his own morality, or lack there of. "Hah, I've used it in the past.. their stubborn nature." His hand comes from behind his back to motion in a vague downward sweep to indicate the city beneath them, "They are ... interesting. Ignorant. Hopefully they grow out of it.. I believe they will. If they don't, however, it will be of no concern of mine so long as they stay very far out of my way. I suffer no ignorant nor a fool." Sexuality besides.

He watches her transformation into a replica of himself, but holds a hand up to stop her return. One finger extending upwards, eyes moving down across features he's not seen, aside from a single painting, in half a millennia. "Is this how I look?" His voice is quiet, reverent of what he's viewing. "Huh..." A sigh, deep, with his brow furrowing.

And the hand drops as his eyes shift away towards the crackling clouds on the horizon where a storm brews. Highlighting shadows on his gaunt face and in his dark eyes. "Damnation is a matter of intent, yes. So is anything magical, dear. Magic is very rarely based in what people view as real, like advanced science which is indistinguishable from magic to those whom do not understand it." Slowly his hand returns to the small of his back and his eyes return to her. Only once she's resumed her own shape. As if seeing himself was, at first, interesting, but quickly became offensive. Hurt.

Like someone staring at the sun would hurt.

"What I am or am not, will be or will not, it doesn't matter to anyone, but me. At least in regards to this conversation, suffice... I am damned. Choices I've made have caused it, beliefs I hold facilitate it. Perception is reality and nature is not so easily shift.. It's fine." His smile is, if nothing, an attempt at charming even with the fangs present. "I'm better for it."

M'gann M'orzz has posed:
"I can't say that I *use* it, but knowledge of it certainly aids in diplomatic efforts with them. And that is a touchy effort when it comes to alien species... especially those of us with what they term 'super powers'. And very especially those of us that do not look like them." M'gann offers a qry smile and lifts a small shrug. "In that instance, I am glad for my ability to 'blend in'."

She lifts btoh brows, albeit still in his form, glancing down, then back towards him, "It is how you currently appear, yes. It is.. strange. It *feels* strange. But not entirely unwelcome." Maintaining the form until he's looked his fill, she returns to her chosen form and watches him. "Do you not care for your own appearance?"

His reaction to the mimicry of his outwards appearance is curious, enough so that she has questions building up, keeping them contained so as not to overwhelm with a veritable flood. M'gann seemed as comfortable in his form as she is in her own, making his reaction to the sight of himself rather curious.

"If that is what you wish, it is not my place to try and tell you otherwise." She offers a smile in return, though the sight of the fangs have her curious, "You sustain yourself on the blood of the living. Humans. How much must you consume in a night to maintain your present status?"

Dracula has posed:
"Or if you are the definition of their very damnation given manifestation." Dracula adds what is said regarding 'aliens' and 'negotiations' with humans. It's off handed, a slap back verbally accompanied with a smirk. "Or eat them. They really don't like that." Which comes up later, of course.

It's only that momentary look that he gives the image of himself, but he thinks for far longer about she asks him. Do you not care for your own appearance. His tongue runs across the back of his teeth, "It is not how I remember it. Amongst my very few shortcomings, I am unable to look upon my own reflection.. more precisely, I cast none to look upon, and while the exact nature of this anomoly is unknown to me, I can only surmiss from those even fewer that are older than I.. it has something to do with the soul. You had the best of intentions, I'm sure, but what I see is not what you looked like."

His hands slip into the pockets of his slacks, grin upon his face as if this troubles him a great deal less than it actually does. "I see an absence that you are... simply unable to replicate. Or fill. A void. My visage is different, certainly, and it appears as you probably see it.. but there is a feeling I get when 'I' see it like part of my soul is being hollowed out."

His lips peel, then set into a grin. "That or I'm just meladramatic. Which is entirely possible because I am a drama queen." The fact that they hover above Metropolis is completely alien to him now that he's grown comfortable in the surroundings. It could be anywhere and he'd feel no different about the scenary. "Usually, not very much. How I feel that night. If I've been injured.. how recently I've been awake from the immortal slumber. In ages past, history has written fabrications to cover up my ravenous hunger as plague or famine. Wars were always very good for my kind. Death was everywhere, who misses a few dozen humans when thousands die daily." His tongue hisses off the back of his teeth.

"In truth, I can survive for days without drinking the life blood. I don't, of course, but I can."

M'gann M'orzz has posed:
She chuckles softly and shakes her head, "You might find that you are more readily accepted than I, these days. The form I wear is one of my own choosing, not reflective of my natural state. If I were to walk around in that... let's just say that the modern equivalent of 'torches and pitchforks' would be the very least of what I could expect." Motioning towards him, M'gann offers, "You at least have the last few decades of pop culture working in your favor."

Listening to his response, M'gann first frowns, then nods as he expands on the answer. It isn't that she didn't look like him, it's that there's a certain quality that she has no way to mimic. Her head cants as she watches him for a long moment, "I could attempt again, do a deeper scan of your self, replicate you more completely. I chose a surface appearance for brevity's skae, but I might be able to better replicate your nature with a little exposure and practice."

Chuckling, she lifts a shrug, "I am certainly not about to dissuade you from such. Theatrics often make these encounters far more enjoyable than they might otherwise be." Then he's answering her next question and she pays close attention again. "Intriguing. So. Do you *have* to consume the life blood, or do you choose to? Could you survive indefinitely on less than the death of another? I'm curious how it would work."

Dracula has posed:
"I doubt that." Vlad is unmoved by her saying she'd be unable to walk anywhere looking however she so chose, "I've paid fairly close attention to current social trends of humans and it hardly seems likely they would cast you on the pyre for being an alien. Not with the likes of Superman.. or those children living in a tower shaped like a T." He snorts a laugh and shakes his head, "Even the revolting manner in which mutants are treated seems born of some flip-floppy lunacy that it's neither easily understood or entirely consistent. No.. I believe, like your opinion on my damnation, it is purely of your own creation."

His hands remain in his pockets, with his head canting upwards. Chin held high, "No." He isn't vehement or forceful in refusing, "You would have to scan very deep indeed to find what is missing and I'm not certain you'd like what you find. Nor would, to be honest. Reactionary as my kind are, I would be tempted to reciprocate and we needn't sort out which of us is the better mentalist." It's meant in jest, but there's also a level of truth to it.

"Do I have to 'kill' a person to sustain myself? Certainly, no. A single person could sustain me for weeks, under normal circumstances where I am simply 'existing'. There are always moments of greater need, but I hardly see the point. I have no 'desire' to ration because I simply do not care enough about humans to bother. They eat cows, I eat them. It's natural order. The only reason anyone cares at all is because they are not at the top of this food chain. If I subsist on vermin, no one would bat an eye... but you eat one nun and everyone loses their mind."

M'gann M'orzz has posed:
"Mmmmmmmmmm, you mean the Kryptonians that look like humans? Or the Tamaraneans that look like humans with a different skin color? Not a one of the races you've suggested has an inhuman natural form. You clearly missed the happenings at the Starport." M'gann lifts her shoulders into a shrug as she glances off towards the Titan's Tower in the distance. "I have seen exactly what the people of this world do to my people. I watched them do it to my parents." Her lips twitch into a grim line.

She gives a nod to his refusal, smiling faintly, "I believe I understand. But if you should change your mind, you can reach out." M'gann chuckles softly and gives a small nod, "That I absolutely understand. My own defenses enact often without my even needing to try, they respond to 'attack's against my psyche. And I have no wish to start a psychic 'dick measuring' contest with you. Especially when it isn't necessary."

Lifting a hand, M'gann offers, "I was not questioning your choices, only what your particular biology demands. And not from any moral judgment, from curiosity about your needs." She gives a small smile and shrugs one shoulder, "I do not condone the taking of life.. but I also do not question the need of a being to consume in order to survive. So in this instance, I'm simply going to remove myself from casting judgment in either direction. Not my call to make."

Dracula has posed:
"I do seem to have missed these happenings, yes." To be sure, Vlad's interest in matters off of Earth is nonexistant. He's not even certain he could go to space if he decided to. What would be the effects of the sun out there? He can't know. Could it be some curse that deals exclusively with his presence on Earth? There's only one way to find out and it could very well be fatal. With no means by which he could undo the results.. in either direction. "Whatever acceptance there may be for what I am is directly tied to who I am. I've spent decades, since the height of enlightened thinking, changing the opinions of others through the careful manipulation of media. You believe the 'Goth movement' was an accident? No... no..." He laughs humorlessly and shakes his head.

"My point, M'gann M'orzz, is that nothing is so simple and everything has shades. If you wish to be accepted, then you must make it so because nobody will do it for you. Perhaps you are, I don't know, your plights aren't my problem, but you seem like a sweet girl. So either you change their mind or you live in the shadow of fear cast by their deft misconceptions. It's only been within a mortal lifetime that blacks were allowed to eat at the same tables as whites.. Contextually, that's a huge leap forward. With pitfalls... nothing is perfect. Nor, as I said, my problem. I can, however, give you advice on a good publisher?" His grin flickers slightly, clearly leaning into slight levity.

"We are both accomplished mentalists and shape shifters, measuring penis', whether literal or metaphorical, would do neither of us any good. Let us say, simply, thank you." He dips his head to her, "For showing me a short gimps of what you see when you look at me. It's been six hundred years, give or take a few centuries, and I see I'm still 'quite the catch'." Again his smile flickers, but never really sets upon his face.

"Ahhh so you are a realist. Excellent. I am as well.. I've done unspeakable things in my life, but I've never considered feeding from mortals one of them. I'm older than the country in which we currently reside and I've not killed nearly the number of people as one war fought by humans. Not one." Except that time he waged a war against all of Europe, but he's notorious for the details he leaves out, right?

M'gann M'orzz has posed:
Nodding, M'gann offers, "Aliens arrived at the Spaceport from various sectors, seeking aid after being ruthlessly attacked by an unknown assailant. Some were attempting to help the refugees... and some, like the United States government, decided that the best course of action was to attack the Starport and attempt to take the aliens into custody. They attacked the Starport while their own citizens were there. They attempted to pit metahumans against the superheroes that were there. I've reviewed the footage. It was pretty damning." She quirks a faint smile, "And all over a couple hundred aliens that needed help."

Mention of the 'Goth' movement has her giving him a blank stare, then shaking her head, "Sorry, I am neither as old as yourself, nor as versed in the history of this world. I'm afraid the remark is beyond my comprehension." She is also likely the least 'Goth' being around. His remarks earn a lift of her shoulders as she replies, "I've chosen to adopt a form that they can more easily abide by. My true form would be something more akin to one of their 'sci-fi monster movies'. They would be predisposed towards hating and fearing me. I'd just as soon not try to rock that boat."

There's a chuckle as he mentions a good publisher, shaking her head, "Oh no, the last thing I need is some overblown semi-biographical account of myself out there on the shelves. Besides, I'm sure there's fanfiction that exists already, and I am quite purposefully ignoring the existence of it."

M'gann smiles at him, "You're welcome. And I would have to agree, you do meet society's standards for attractiveness. Exceed them, even." She manages to keep a straight face, even if she's teasing him, just a little.

"I like to think I'm an optimistic realist, but you're not wrong. And frankly, I don't know many people in my line of work that *haven't* had an 'evil arc'. At some point, everyone breaks, at least for awhile. Which makes me think that who or what you are is not so far off from what is inside them all... if a face is needed to be put to that so they can confront it, well, at least yours is pleasing to look on." M'gann doesn't mention any wars waged, largely because it's a sticky subject with far too many grey areas for them to hash out right here and now.

Dracula has posed:
"Ahh, that old tale." Vlad inclines his head at the abridged version of the Starport incident. "I'd be interested to see what forces were at play in this egregious waste of life, but perhaps it is as with anything.. the simplist answer is the right one? The Americans are, by and large, the worst afront of civility short of the Church. From beginning to eventual end, their history will be mared, not by their acts of charity, but by their perpensity for violence amongst their own... or ones whom seek refuge, but they've not a very good track record, if memory serves, for accepting any refugees. Cubans were kept in cages during the seventies and eighties. Native Americans on their reservations... Mmm history is written by victors, as you said. Germany doesn't teach about the Nazi's either."

That paradigm is shifting, but clearly keeps circling back. As he watches M'gann with a raised brow at her ernest observations of his place amongst society standards of attractiveness. "I haven't always looked like this. I believe my natural form would be terrifying to most, as well. Where I may have been human at some distant point, that part of me died.. Then, vampires are a very odd bunch indeed. Easier to amass a dragon's horde of wealth when one resembles Luke Evans than Satan, I'd wager."

His hands have remained in his pockets for a while now, standing on nothing as he regards her when being teased. "You truly are a delightful young woman, aren't you? Seeing the best, even in the worst. If only your perspective were something one could bottle and distribute to the masses, hm? I'm charming, but I'm also a liar. Unafraid to admit it too. Because in my experience, there's nothing anyone can do about it anyways, so why terrify them with facts? No, no.. I shall let them see whatever they wish. I continue my 'evil arc', I just do it far more ..." His eyes roll upwards, as if searching for something, the word perhaps. ".. moderated. Than I have in the past. No wholesale slaughters. Unless someone tries to kill me at a Spaceport. Then I very well may crash into the Whitehouse and decapitate that old bald fuck with his own leg bone."

He also grins, but it's not as warm as her's likely is.

M'gann M'orzz has posed:
"No argument here. My parents and I crashed here not quite a decade ago. We were the only survivors of the crash, and we were hunted, captured, and taken to some government black ops site for 'study'. The benign term for torture and experimentation. I was forced to watch my parents be tortured, and eventually killed. It was.. not a good time for me." M'gann frowns, letting out a small sigh before looking back to Vlad. "It is a conscious decision made each day to not repeat the actions I took that day. But they are with me, and always will be."

Clearing her throat, she offers a quick smile to cover her brief descent into maudlin retrospective, "I assure you, you cannot be more 'hideous' in your true form than I would be. I understand humans have managed to find differing versions of the Lord of Hell to be quite attractive. So I would not give up hope just yet." There's a measure of teasing in her tone and some laughter to be found in her eyes.

"It is.. my nature. Which is antithetical to my people, and without the care of my parents, I would never have lived this long. But that's an entirely different story." M'gann lifts both brows at him and shrugs, "I didn't want to mention the war because there is no 'good' side to war. Inevitably, both sides do terrible things in the name of domination, or survival. So I can't exactly lay every atrocity of whatever war you waged directly at your feet." Smiling at him, she chuckles, "I admit, I would have been hard-pressed to not turn his insides into outsides myself, had I been there. It was unconscionable to attack civilians in an attempt to 'detain' aliens that were only seeking help."

Dracula has posed:
"You remain an enigma, M'gann M'orzz." Dracula regards her evenly as she recants her tale of crashing upon earth and watching her parents be experimented upon, tortured because he obviously saw that for what it was, and then killed. "I would not have had the inclination, let alone the willpower, necessary to let anyone who was responsible survive." It's clear that perhaps she didn't either and he inclines his head to that. "Good for you." And means it, "Nothing tastes as good as vengence. I've been told; when setting out on a course of revenge it is best to dig two graves... I've always replied; Two? They are greatly underestimating me."

He chuckles and shakes his head, "Obviously the parable is meant to explain the act of vengence ultimately leads to ones own demise, but that's not true, not entirely." Again he leaves out details, which aren't important to make his point. They might actually disprove it. Facts, getting in the way of a story.

"Charming, certainly, but misplaced. Classically speaking, Satan is not an attractive being. Well, for the sake of the intentions for which he was used by the Church, anyways. They paint a vivid picture of flames, horns, and pointed tails, and by some measure I adopted this iconography. By purpose or divinity, I've not really given it thought. I've also met Satan.. Lucifer. He's an attractive man. So I suppose, in a manner, I've was robbed by the particulars of my time. What is true then is true now, as Heaven must follow all laws set by the mortal church, so too must I. Psychologically speaking it's a rabbit hole, but.. rules are rules and I'm not above them."

This however is the first time he ACTUALLY laughs. A crack of thunder from his lungs that echos in the snap of lightning in the storm clouds building on the horizon, "Oh, no. My purpose for war was anything if 'subjectively just'. I've fought in them where ideological differences were at play, of course, but I've also fought them because I wanted everyone dead." He sneers, lips pulling bare his fangs. "I was angry in my fledling years and incredibly powerful. Far more so than any vampire who came before and many who came after me. I was Heaven scorned and Hell sent. The son of the Devil. The bringer of the Apocalypse. The Prince of Darkness, they called me. As I dined on bread-" he makes a motion as if holding a small chunk in his fingers, "- dipped in the blood of enemies impaled on stakes. I called it gradina mea a zeilor mortii.. garden of gods death."

M'gann M'orzz has posed:
Clearing her throat, M'gann shakes her head, "I suffered an emotional breakdown and entered a... I cannot precisely call it a fugue state, for I remember, but almost.. an out of body experience. And no, they did not survive." Drawing in a breath, she lets it out slowly, "I regret taking lives.. but not escaping." Looking back to Vlad, one brow lifts at him, "I have never fully understood that saying. Simple math suggests that if you kill more than one person, even if you are removed from the world as well, you are still making a net gain in the removal of evil people from the world." Shaking her head, she shrugs.

When he suggests it's a parable about leading to one's own death, she clucks her tongue, "Nearly everything dies. That makes the 'moral' of the story moot. You could live for hundreds of years after that, die peacefully in your sleep, and that instance would still make the parable *technically* true. Its a fals dichotomy with a helping of circular logic."

Lifting a brow at him, M'gann quirks a faint smile, "And you believe flames, horns, and a tail cannot be found attractive? Pity, I know of many metahumans that would be *crushed* to think that. And more than a few would love to show you how wrong that assumption is." She cants her head at him, smiling, "Which church? There are many, many denominations of the Christian faith, and even that is derivative of an older faith. So to which version of Heaven and which mortal church are you beholden to? You know there is a religion that was founded around the belief system of a fictional character, as presented in a movie? Can you follow that church's dictates?"

Lifting a hand to stop him, M'gann shakes her head, "I know at least some of the history taught about you. You are quite the popular character when it comes to both history and fiction. But I repeat, not every atrocity can be laid at your feet. YOUR actions, YOUR deeds, those you are responsible for. Not those of anyone else."

Dracula has posed:
"Everything dies." The voice that says those words come from Dracula's mouth, but they are in M'gann's voice when he says what she's just said to him, back to her. "You shouldn't feel any guilt about the killing of those who harmed you, tortured you, and then killed your parents infront of you. I'd argue you've suffered enough and needn't shoulder the guilt of their demise as well." A smirk curling the corner of his mouth, brow slipping upwards curiously.

"No, I never said I found myself unattractive, only that I might be considered terrifying. Which is true. As true as, I would guess, whatever visage you seem so keen to believe marks you as a horror to mortals. As if they've some great foundation upon which to stand, casting stones, from their hedious houses of glass." He motions at one point with his upturned hand, but then slips it back in the loose front pockets of his slacks.

"I follow no faith, but I am bound by the laws of the ones with whom I've consorted. I was a devout man in my life, The Orothodox Christianity, but so too have I followed the scriptures of Islam when I was a boy and Judaism. It is the Orothodox faith to which I am beholden by the scripts of unnatural law, however. Faith is a powerful thing, M'gann M'orzz.. It isn't through divine providence that Gods gain their strength, but through the faith of those who believe in them."

"Enough people join this idiotic faith based on a movie, that God, too, will have power."

He laughs quietly to the last and raises a brow, "I don't blame myself for anything. I have no guilt for what I've done, I certainly don't seek reconsiliation. No, my punishments are evident and suffered alone. Neither my own actions or those of others. You misunderstand my meaning. It sounds so... what do they call it.. edgy? It's just the nature of things. Once water seeps in the crack, a tidal wave will build. I don't have time for remorse because it would last a 'very long time'."

M'gann M'orzz has posed:
"Two can play that game," M'gann's mouth speaks with his voice as she quirks a half-smile at him. "I regret my actions because I could have escaped without taking lives. My parents were weakened, unable to fight. I could have phased away but I didn't want to leave them. In the end, it cost many men their lives. I do not judge you for being a predator, but that is not who *I* am." She smiles at him, "My parents did well by me, by our culture, I should have been killed as soon as I failed to display a willingness or eagerness to kill. Instead, they kept me, raised me, and even ensured I had the freedom to join them in their mission."

Dropping back to her own voice, she chuckles, lifting a hand and waggling it back and forth, "You aren't the only one around anymore with a 'demonic visage'... and they can't easily transform as you can. People, on the whole, have become more forgiving of physical appearance." She lifts a small shrug and offers, "I have managed to startle friend and foe alike with my appearance, and I dislike the reminder of where I came from, so I choose to keep a form more pleasing to humans. That is allows me to live amongst them without reprisal is certainly a bonus."

Tilting her head, watching him, M'gann gives a nod, motioning towards him, "What are the laws of that faith that bind you, then? I presume the sun is still a non-option for you. Crucifixes? Garlic? Running water? There is a theory that you could not see your reflection because originally mirrors were crafted with silver as the backing, and it was the silver that you couldn't see from, as it was a 'pure' substance. Which would suggest modern mirrors might not hold the same issue." Smiling faintly, she nods, "I know. About the source of a God's strength. But there are other Gods. Both with a big G and a little g."

"Mmmmmmmmmm, no God, just a... Dude."

M'gann watches him, blinking, "Remorse is menat to be long-lasting. I expect to carry it with me through my lifespan. It requires no thought or action on my part, it is simply there. A part of me, though neither the whole nor even the largest part."

Dracula has posed:
"No more than I'm judging you for not killing. I'm simply pointing out that you had a reason and, by my opinion, should feel no guilt. This entire conversation has been a matter of personal opinions weighing very heavily upon the personal beliefs of an individual, afterall. You share, I share." Vlad motions back and forth betwixt them. "You come from a culture of killers, I come from a culture of ... humans... who are probably best described as animals, than killers, but you see my point, I believe."

He, too, shrugs. "So it stands to reason that the same is true of you. If people can come to terms with how horrifying I may look, why not you?" He squints, leans closer, and lowers his tone to just conversationally above a whisper, "Are you a 'special' horror? I doubt it... But I'll give you that small consilation if it pleases you." His tone goes from whisper to playfully mocking, "oh. no. you are too much to bare with my eyes.. hiss.. hiss.. snarl."

The motioning hand slips in his pocket and his grin returns, lopsided, to his face. "Some of those, yes. Most of them are fairly well documented, I believe. I was quite open with Mister Stoker." Until the mention of mirrors, he nods to her assessment, "Perhaps. Other theories suggest that it has to do with the soul, or in my case, lack there of. I can't know for certain. In all my experimentation with the dead, I've never seen the spirit of a dead vampire, however. Necromancy is a very tricky business, to be sure, but it works on the same principles as Evocation. What is true, will be true. No soul, no spirit. As to how that relates to my reflection? Mmm.. It only deals with me, visually. I do not show up on cameras either, but my voice does. Once, in 18.. 60... 3.. I believe. In Atlanta Georgia, I had a photograph taken of me with an old Pheobus camera. It was able to capture my silhouette, but no features. The particulars of which I still cannot tell you, but it was one of my most prized possessions until it was burned along with the rest of the city."

He shrugs indifferently to this loss as he might, so he claims, the deaths he may have caused in his past. "Guilt is entirely personal, but rarely does you any good in the long term. Unless you just like ulcers."

M'gann M'orzz has posed:
"Hmmmmmmm.. yes, I believe I do. Very well, I will concede in trying to 'humanize' you when you are clearly comfortable being a monster. But I retain the right to continue to look human, regardless of my natural form. There are many flaws in humanity, but there are many good things to be found in humanity as well. And it is those aspects I choose to focus on." M'gann smiles at him, her hands tucking behind her back once more. Hovering as they are in mid-air, she shouldn't be able to rock back and forth on her feet, but she does all the same!

Lifting a hand, she wobbles it back and forth, "It took centuries for humanity to come to terms with a 'devilish' appearance. I'm afraid by the time they grew inured to mine, it would be the end of my lifespan, or after." M'gann chuckles and shakes her head, "Oh no, nothing like that. There's a whole world of Martians that look like me, after all. I'm hardly unique. I simply choose to maintain a form that doesn't require 'getting used to'."

Then they're back to the crunch of his 'condition' and the rules he must abide by. "I find it difficult to believe that mirrors are a reflection of one's soul. If that were the case, they would reveal anyone's true nature, regardless of form taken. Unless you're puporting that by virtue of *having* a soul, it allows reflection? In which case, I feel I have to protest as a being that has absolutely no ties at all to this fairth or God of yours that my appearance in a mirror is dictated by the existence of an ephemeral bit of protoplasmic residue that someone *claims* is a soul." Shaking her head, M'gann looks at him, "And I will remark again that in your time, 'film' used colloidal silver to capture pictures. Which leads back to the whole silver debate. It's entirely possible that you could have a reflection."

Chuckling softly, she shakes her head, "Not an affliction I will ever be susceptible to."

Dracula has posed:
"Many have tried, none have succeed." To humanize Dracula. "The act itself is kind of humorous to me, honestly. I know it sounds so very adament about a situation, as if it's my intention to convince you, but I assure that it is a simple fact. There are laws of my kind that I've never followed very well, with regards to showing ourselves to mortals... there are others, of course. One law seems silly, but I've not followed those either. Laws of man, be they mortal of vampiric, need not apply. I have plenty to chain me, you see."

Which returns them to the crux of his affliction through her own decision to remain in a form more suitable for human consumption. "To each their own." His smile remains, lacking warmth, but at least genuine in light of their conversation. Pleasant even.

"I also said I don't know." Equally as conversational, "I have heard the rumors you have, of course. Silver being the true crippling effect, but I've also exist in the modern world.." He slips from his pocket a cellphone, which he thumbs open with an elaborate motion into an unknown symbol upon the screen as he hovers closer and holds it up to snap a quick picture of both of them.

Which he turns towards her, showing that he is not in it, despite them having been sitting inches apart. "We could call it a matter of metaphysicality where I've convinced myself that I have no reflection and, therefore, I don't. I'm certainly not opposed to the idea, but in leu of actual evidence to support the claim, I can only say with any level of certainty, that I have no reflection." The phone, with a background of an oil painting that looks from some time of antiquity, of a young woman, is slipped back into his pocket.

"Also crucifix, but not just any accoutrement of religion. The idol itself has no power at all." From beneath his tailored shirt he produces a rather old crucifix that is almost certainly worth it's considerable weight in gold. "In the hands of someone of true, unquestionable faith in the symbol, however? I would be repulsed. And this is not simply religious. Hah.. Bill Gates was able to repel me with a floppy disc containing the original code for microsoft." His grin flickers a shade more towards teasing. As if that's likely not true.

M'gann M'orzz has posed:
M'gann laughs softly, "Well then, perhaps it would take an alien where humans have failed." She lifts a hand and smiles at him, "A jest. I will continue to see the best, however, though you are not required to agree. Obviously." She lifts both brows when he mentions various laws that he feels he isn't beholden to, her head canting to one side, "Curious. I would very much like to hear more of that. Laws of vampire, I mean. I wouldn't have expected there to be enough solidarity to create your own form of government or rules."

She gives a small nod and returns his smile, warmth in hers even if not in his. "Agreed. Though, there is a human expression that I believe would apply here, if we are both curious enough." Pausing, she thinks, trying to recall the exact words, "I will.. show you mine... if you show me yours?" Looking back to him, M'gann grins.

Then he's pulling out a cellphone and moving in to snap a picture of them to show that he doesn't photograph at all. "VERY interesting. I would definitely love to dig into the possibilities behind that theory, though perhaps at a later time, if we wish to speak again." She smiles, "I would not presume to hold your interest as much as you hold mine, but I would certainly be amenable to another meeting at another time."

She looks at the phone again, brow lifting up at the background he's chosen for it, then back to him. Studying him briefly before simply giving a mental shrug and smiling.

"I see. So it is the faith in something, be it religious or otherwise, a true and complete faith that is capable of repelling. That is interesting indeed. I wonder, does it require some sort of talisman of that belief, or would the faith itself be enough?"

Dracula has posed:
"I've heard this said before." The exchange of 'showing'. What he heard clearly has him smirking in an amused manner, "Perhaps we shall, one day, do so. I doubt that a first meeting is the proper appointment for disrobing our mortal shells for the sake of humoring curiosity, however." Two can play the inuendo game, M'gann M'orzz. He's old, yes, but he's been alive for most of that time. Certainly he's picked up some clever turns of phrase.

His accent, though faded, remains to a small margin and he speaks elegantly, even when using current venacular. Some odd mixture of ancient and modern. A TI82 computer with a I9 processor, as it were. The notion has his smirk widening, but he doesn't explain the source. For it is entirely too nerdy, even as a joke.

"I spent two years with a German man named Jonathan whose primary meter of conversation was trade law, dear. I believe you're sufficient enough to capture my attention for a second encounter. So long as we continue to talk about my favorite subject... me." It's another tease, hand flipping out with his palm up. Each finger has a dark claw extending a half inch in a point.

"Holy water blessed by an individual of faith who knows the proper words is effective, but the remains a talisman. To my knowledge, simple belief is not enough, or I'd never have been able to go to mass... when I still went to mass." He wink at her and smirk. "They do love their idols in Cathedral.. Regardless, I should not tell all my secrets in a single meeting, M'gann M'orzz." He'd seen her look to the background of his phone and his expression sours only slightly.

M'gann M'orzz has posed:
Laughing softly, she gives a nod, "Very well, I will cede this battle of wits... for now. You are more versed in the vernacular, though I think, not by much. Most of my focus has gone into learning social cues and expectations." She lifts a small shrug, "My information of Earth was quite out of date by the time I arrived." M'gann pauses, then adds, "Though perhaps for more than simple curiosity. You are an interesting creature, and I have enjoyed the banter."

For M'gann, her voice has a somewhat common East Coast touch to it, but otherwise seems fairly neutral, unless she's purposely affecting an accent. She copied his quite well for their first meeting, though perhaps unsurprising.

"You also loved Jonathan, and I would not try to make such a claim between us. But, I will allow that we are equally piqued for interest and curiosity. Each a novelty to the other. So.. yes, a second meeting would be enjoyable." M'gann gives a quick laugh at the teas, then shakes her head and smiles at him, "You tease, but beware opening the door for my curiosity to run rampant."

Skipping over the explanation of faith and talismans of it, M'gann offers a softer expression to the change in his, shaking her head, "I don't pry where its unwelcome, Vlad. I saw, but not with any malice or trickery, merely by accident. Your privacy is yours to keep." Turning slightly, she glances off towards the direction of New York, then back to Dracula with a grin.

"Race you to New York?"

Dracula has posed:
VERNACULAR

Dracula chuckles at the quick cede of victory and drops his shoulders in a mirror of disappointment that he clearly doesn't actually feel. "Agreed, the banter has been enjoyable given the interesting manner of our meeting." Tapping a claw against the side of his temple, "I was going to kill you. I'm truly glad I didn't." Whether he could or not doesn't matter. It's the matter of what he'd attempt, though he seems fairly sure of himself on his ability to follow through. As much as he's sure of his being glad he didn't.

"Ah, yes, but not at first. That grew over time. At first he was just a boring, but welcome, distraction in a life that had grown dark over many centuries." He smirks and bows his head, hand returning to his pocket where it sits beside his phone. At least once the crucifix is replaced behind his shirt.

"Do you know much about trade law?" The smirk widens, if his eyes gleemed it might in this instance. Instead they're dry, like those of a corpse. "I kid. I welcome curiosity. The age of the vampiric interest have eclisped, I'm afraid... perhaps it's time I fund another film, if only to manipulate the trend back into favor." THAT is prossibly a genuine consideration.

Which he brushes away with the flick of a hand. "Ask me again another time." About the picture, his expression souring more, "Even old monsters have their bitter memories, that is one of the few I have remaining." onto the subject of a race, he glances in the direction of New York.

Then he's gone.

If she expected an answer, she doesn't get one.

If she expect him to race fair, she wasn't paying attention.

M'gann M'orzz has posed:
M'gann offers a sheepish smile, "Really, I am sorry for that. I have been.. stretching.. my abilities. Slowly but surely, trying to see if I could blanket all of Metropolis. Not to intrude, but to see if, in time of need, I could shield a large population from attack. It has been an interesting exercise, but it has also meant occasionally unintentionally intruding on another psychic." She lifts a small shrug, "But I am also glad you did not make the attempt, I've enjoyed our conversation too much." Whether or not he could, she's still happy the attempt wasn't made!

Chuckling, she gives a nod, "Fair. Well, I hope I provide you with an equivalent distraction from the darkness. And no, I'm not versed in trade law. My speciality lies in linguistics, and diplomacy." Of course, being a telepath helps enormously with learning new languages.

"That said, I have an open and curious mind, we could almost certainly trade stories on dry subjects if we truly wished." M'gann teases without hesitation, flashing a grin at him. "Anything to move away from those Godawful Twilight movies. Though I hear there's a new one out recently that returns vampires to their more terrifying roots. Abigail. You might find it interesting."

M'gann isn't troubled when he disappears, only chuckling as she goes both intangible and invisible, shooting off towards New York at top speed! He's getting a run for his money tonight.