1958/An Usual Helper

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An Usual Helper
Date of Scene: 04 June 2020
Location: An Alleyway in Midtown, Manhatten
Synopsis: No description
Cast of Characters: Lyle Marston, Blake Riviere




Lyle Marston has posed:
Robert Thornhail's penthouse was more guarded then Lyle expected. Lyle, dressed as La Raton stumbled down the alleyway near the Charlton Arms Apartments, clutching his shoulder very tightly as he did, letting out soft swears in French as he did. Thronhail, a coruppt oil executive seemed like an easy mark, especially after he went to Japan for a week long "business trip". However, when Lyle broke in, he wasn't expecting rent-a-cops from that damnned consulting company Athena to show up shortly after him. He managed to get away, but not before one of the guards shot a bullet through his shoulder.

Lyle continued to stumble through the alley, gripping his shoulder tightly as blood started to stain his costume. He had no idea where Sir Percy was, the damn gunshot frightened him away. He could be anywhere in NYC about now. Suddenly, Lyle stopped and leaned against a wallm sitting down in the process. He began to breathe harder as he continued to apply pressure to the woundm looking around in case the security guards came looking for him. As he sat there, he was unaware that his blood's scene will attract something thought only to exist in myth.

Blake Riviere has posed:
Nights with blood in the dark were rather normal for a vampiress. Indeed, it was entirely how she continued her existance...and she'd already left dazed 'donor' elsewhere with vague dreamy memories elsewhere and herself a full stomach. All in all, it's a good evening for her, one that she was coming to a lazy close as she makes her way down the street towards the building of her own penthouse.

Now there was blood in the alleyway, and the vampiress dressed in her dark slacks and red blouse under her coat diverts her path towards the sight.

She looked normal enough, no obvious fangs or glowing eyes, her hunger -mostly- sated, the woman's accented tones speak up in their 'Queen's English' before tilting her head. "Having a bad night?"

Lyle Marston has posed:
The man before you was dressed up like an 18th century aristrocrat, his face had a neatly trimmed mustache and was topped with a domino mask. His long,brown hair was tied into a ponytail. He was currently gripping his shoulder with a white,gloved hand, which was stained badly with blood. He looks up at you in surprise at first, then lets out a light chuckle as he looks at you calmly, and with a light flirtatious look as he says,

"I didn't know God made angels this beautiful."

He then chuckles lightly again before adapting am ore serious look. He then lets out one more swear in French before saying in a thick, french accent,

"You can say that Mademosille. I have been shot, and I am bleeding pretty badly. Don't think it's critical though."

Blake Riviere has posed:
The 18th century certainly had its own charm for the Vampiress, she lived through it after all, but such attire tends to earn a strange look or two. A soft chuckle, the woman moves to pull the belt from the waist of her coat and move to push at his own clothing and inspect the wound. A shoulder shot wasn't useful for a tournequet, but it would do to secure her handkerchief in place before she offers her hand to him.

The accent? It was suprising, but taken in its stride. In fact, it might be shocking how swiftly her own accent drops to one that seems to be completely native.

"<It is not nothing,>" she muses, attempting to pull him to his feet. "<And an alleyway is not ideal for avoiding an infection. Come with me, I prefer whatever your explaination to me will be over whatever I'll have to offer the police.>"

Lyle Marston has posed:
La Raton did not protest, but eye Blake wearily as he watched Blake tie the belt and handkerchief to his shoulder. Once her hand is offered, La Raton weakily offers his gloved hand to her, and is surprised when the woman manages to lift him up. He nods weakily at her and let's out another light chuckle as he says to her,
"You are stronger than I thought mademosiile. I will tell what happened once we got off the streets. It is not safe out here."

Blake Riviere has posed:
"And you are losing blood," she muses lightly, assisting the the man to follow. "Please try not to bleed on my furniture."

Sure enough, she was heading for the lobby, guiding the man onwards to the private elevator and lazily waving her keychain. Humorously enough, she was drawing La Raton into the sort of building he'd usually have to work to break into.

"Bathroom, it's tiled. I will find a kit somewhere..."