Between lavishly decorated walls of yolk-hued exteriors, there hung grand chandeliers of pristinely cut glass overhead. Red carpets donned the glistening linoleum floors in straight columns, their corners meticulously pinned by dazzling ceramic vases holding extensive arrangements of cream-white flowers. Crystal-beaded curtains swooped high and low, scattering iridescent speckles of light upon the faces of those present.

A party was in full swing, classical music floating through the long sconce-lined hall to its idle lobby. Fanciful guests mingled, their posh attire swishing and swirling as soft chatter permeated the surroundings. A large white banner extending from two adjourning marble pillars introduced the event as Grenadine city's fifth triennual charity gala. For those confused, it was the fifth of a party held every three years.

With each passing three-year period, the venues honored as the gala's host grew more palatial. And for the second and likely not last time, the Grand Liege was deemed the place to be. It was a banquet hall famous for its high standards and pandering to the influential. Naturally, its current endeavor was ever-important due to the recent participation of some major families in power.

Surrounded by deep forestry and relatively empty roads, the Grand Liege was a perfectly secluded spot for the wealthy to tryst. Anyone of significance was currently within the venue's vast ballroom, socializing at dining tables or waltzing upon the dance floor to the cacophonous, live orchestral music. Oblong tables were primed with dainty hors d'oeuvres and refreshments, while polished waitstaff frequently glided by the off-white furnishings to provide the attendees timely assistance.

Though majority of the dining tables seated guests, there were yet many mingling upon the stone-floored core of the annular chamber. Coteries were outwardly apparent as those dubbed top dogs boasted of their achievements to their inferiors, who could only nod along eagerly. Those of lower status were simply filling numbers, more inclined to cater themselves toward higher classed individuals. Still, a few contrarily occupied the sidelines in thoughtful repose, preferring to keep their own company.

Undeterred by the palpable submissiveness marking the event's entirety, a certain guest with possibly the foremost rank wished desperately that she were of the latter category detailed above. Alas, not everything could go Priscilla's way despite her influential standing, which usually dictated that all her whims be met so long as they benefited her family.

There within a remote corner of the lobby's luxurious interior, hung a polished and intricately adorned mirror running end to end along the wall, reflecting everything it faced. The beauty of the century currently stood preening herself in its graces due to the long line at the ladies restroom leaving little else as an option.

Priscilla Sablich impassively fussed with her inky tresses while carefully examining herself from head to toe. She was taking a break from the forefront of the party occurring within the ballroom just across the lobby, its resplendent sights cut off by closed, imperious double doors.

Delicate, milk-white fingers brushed stray locks behind an accessorized ear as she gazed upon the reflected image of brown, almond-shaped eyes. They were framed by relatively short lashes, curled despite their length. Her complexion was pristine and blemish-free, making foundation or concealer quite unnecessary.

Priscilla had opted for minimal makeup, allowing her natural beauty to shine. In spite of the grandeur, an event held for charity surely could not strive for excessive luxury in its guests. For much the same reason, she donned a simple gold necklace and dark red-gold earrings which complimented her burgundy dress. The silk garment draped her slim figure and gracefully accentuated her curves in tasteful fashion.

Her lips remained the same soft, cherry-red hue as the product she'd glazed over them. She flashed a deliberate smile, baring her straight and pristine teeth. The blinding contrast with her sensuous lips left an impressive picture for the eyes targeting her and how they relished the sight of her.

Any other woman would have abhorred the searing gazes for how salacious they felt on the skin, but Priscilla could care less. Such men were not any more predatory than her, after all.

She ran her tongue across dulled canines, not quite sharp enough for the facile piercing of flesh, as her real fangs remained retracted. Undoubtedly, those who discovered the trait may never dare hold her in their lust-driven hearts again. They would be dead before then or wholly incapacitated after having the blood drained from their bodies. She was not indisposed to doing so if it meant lessening the nuisances around her.

"Hmm.." Priscilla moved closer to her reflection, having noticed something worrisome. Her elegant cheekbones lacked the usual touch of rouge that she applied upon them, making it seem as if she were one foot into her grave. Being a vampire, she lacked the ability to produce natural heat. Her cheeks were as blanched as eggshells without any artificial color marring them.

Funnily enough, vampires were akin to sick people when they lacked blood. Drinking it fresh somewhat improved pallidness, akin to eating hot porridge when sick or drinking water to hydrate when exhausted. It wouldn't hurt to replenish herself after the mentally draining day she'd endured. In fact, she was certain vague, almost imperceptible bags marred her eyes, as she hadn't slept properly that morning, but a mere sip of blood would mask it instantly.

Alas, Priscilla's aunt had ordered her to fast since yesterday, stating she should maintain her weight and look slim for the party. The arrangement was not unusual coming from the iron-handed woman who frequently supervised her attire, ensuring she was ever pleasing to the slanderous eyes of men.

What made things truly odd was the added emphasis on the charity gala, as if it were imperative she be excessively perfect for an event they've previously attended without as much hubris. Something was different this time around and Priscilla could not wait to weed out potential hazards.

A rather surprising fact about the charity gala was that it operated on the support of many preternatural clans. Occurring once every three years, only specially invited clans could attend the illustrious, and generally secretive, event. Simply put, it was an excuse for the highly influential families of the country to consort and peacock their wealth in the name of donating to the less fortunate.

Priscilla's vampiric family was one such clan showcasing supposed goodwill, much to her chagrin. They had attended nearly every gala held since it's founding more than fifteen years ago, amounting to a total of five excluding the present, and each instant had always been a complete bore.

The event would run from precisely noon through dusk, as the earliest rays of the sun signaled tomorrow's advent. Each family was expected to cough up generous moola in that frame, with games and auctions set up to promote spending. Many would compete to donate the most as late as the final hour. Even if one wished to call it all excessive, the event had been misconstrued for the sake of charity, and certain protocols were to be assumed.

For Priscilla, the steely clutches which persistently jabbed into her were beyond suffocating. She never stood to take a relaxing breath, in spite of her inconsequential role of being constantly flaunted before fellow attendees while flanking her aunt. The mere motions were a major turn-off, but boasting was vital for the woman's ego, and there was a certain quota to fill of it. Hell would break loose if otherwise.

And why would her dearest aunt not crow audaciously when her nephew's company had currently been titled the leading name among their city's top businesses?

Priscilla's older brother was much too talented for his supposed young age, having dipped his hands into the family business while he hadn't yet graduated from his human high school. He single-handedly raised their mediocre textiles company and few subsidiaries to unprecedented heights, earning himself the titles of prodigy and, more importantly, the greatest business man since Hainre Fiord, dubbed founder of the irrepressible Fiord company and its subsequent auto-airship industry.

Priscilla found it quite exaggerated. Gabriel Sablich was, after all, only so excellent at paperwork, decision making, and whatever else made him adept at running a company. Did he have to be hailed as their city's greatest genius, ready to conquer the world with his prowess and insight?

The answer was a thousand times absolutely yes, for he would live long as a vampire and well if his talents increased with age. For the humans, he was an unprecedented business god with looks befitting an adonis. Hailing from a high-status family and being the president to an ever-rising corporation, who wouldn't consider him a man beyond their dreams? He was everything anyone could ever want and that was a fact requiring unfaltering promotion by the woman who had basically raised him in their parents' stead.

Having previously been respected as a time-honored family, the power of the Sablich's merely grew less hollowed and antiquated as their wealth rose exponentially. It would not be a stretch to deem them the richest known afterward, though that was partially owed to remaining generational wealth serving as a solid foundation. With their business experiencing such a splendid run of success, they would not be sane if they dared stop there.

In past years, Priscilla would attend the gala alongside her aunt and brother to establish more business relations with other families. She was their errand girl throughout, distracting small fry while they handled bigger fish. Despite keeping her fully in their sights, their excuses tore her away from anything of real acumen. But at least her purposeless tasks were a level above her parents, if that were anything to be grateful for.

Both her father and mother did as scant work as possible for the family, ignoring everything more so from indifference than aversion. The two were never ones to value public image in the first place, and being together had only heightened that. They most preferred solitude in each other's embraces, for how grand could worldly possessions seem when compared to the love of one's life?

Strangely, her wayward parents had expended some effort to obediently trail along tonight. Priscilla had this terrible inkling that the purpose of their rare appearances was a part of some grand new scheme devised by her aunt. The overwhelming sensation had her stressing to the point of wrinkles and she simply yearned to escape.

Luckily, she had slipped out of the ballroom on the basis of gathering intel while her aunt was distracted. Although the lobby was duly occupied, it was far more tolerable than the blaring background music of the ballroom coupled with the constant discourse of people feigning politeness.

Like her, a few others had scattered across the spacious area, occupying complementary seats set in reclusive corners. Many ladies casually powdered themselves with handheld mirrors, and she had seen fit to follow with the lack of an available powder room. The nearest restroom was down a short flight of stairs leading to a semi-basement, and a winding line had established itself around the perimeter.

She had seen fit to avoid the area. It wasn't a very long wait, nor was it too far, per se. Priscilla simply could not afford to wander any farther from her aunt lest she risk incurring punishment when her disappearance was eventually discovered.

She would rather not get figuratively skinned alive, as her aunt often threatened to do. Her impeccable complexion was much too important for such, of course. One could see that from her meticulous care of it.

She promptly smoothed the flowing length of her dress and sauntered through the center of the lobby, further from the ballroom. This was quite a substantial venue, easily capable of hosting dozens of clans. As previously mentioned, it was to the point many lesser known human dignitaries were invited to fill in vacancies. Because of their presence, anything out of ordinary was kept hush-hush. To them, she was merely a rich human heiress with exceptionally uncommon beauty.

Her gait remained prim, jacquard silk embracing her svelte body in a fluid, cascading motion. Every guest she passed wore attire not unlike her own, though she could proudly admit they did not surpass her in the looks department, given how overt their glances were upon her. And who wouldn't trail their hot gazes behind a woman so poised, her beauty otherworldly amongst the attending humans unaware of her species?

As she glided through the extensive hallway, she sighted the familiar general rest area further ahead, a concave in the otherwise straight path. The walls were a pure fawn embellished with gold trimmings, now bare of ornaments. Ribbons of top caliber hung in curves along the eaves of the concave. The floors remained an off-white marble, creating subdued clacks as she sauntered forward in her kitten heels one step at a time.

At leisure now, Priscilla observed just where she may obtain some refreshingly tart blood. Vending machines had been placed around the space as a humbling experience for the rich socialites. No one was too renowned for snacks and she certainly wouldn't disdain to buy her favorite tomato juice brand from its premises, as she knew it to be there from the previous gala.

Surveying the clusters of conversing people, Priscilla found her eyes attracted to a certain corner where a majority wore identical red blazers and ties over white-collared shirts. She took heed of a particular group lounging about one of the machines, talking animatedly and snickering at an object of their amusement, much like children in a play yard.

"Boastful brats." She thoughtfully mused, having been oblivious to the fact that there would be private academy students attending the charity ball. That particular group seemed awfully entertained by something, acting much unlike their well-behaved schoolmates who were mingling nearby.

Priscilla leisurely approached the high schoolers as they surrounded a beverage-filled machine. As always, she was, without a change in her bearing, positively apathetic toward her current vicinity. Inside, however, she found that she was a slave to her cravings. Her dark amber orbs honed onto a particular product in the vending machine.

There among the variety of soft drinks on display was her favorite sparkling tomato juice brand. An overwhelming thirst engulfed her, and she struggled against the urge to smack her lips. The packaging of the juice was just as tantalizing as she recalled it.

"...it's better I have this than the damned alcohol they're serving." Priscilla reasoned with herself as if deigning to leave her desire unexcused. Being quite parched, she would reluctantly buy the drink, given the fact that only champagne and wine were being served as refreshments for the adults of the party. As she physically resembled a human not yet of drinking age, it only made sense for her to get juice and keep up appearances.

An involuntary purr left Priscilla before she knew it, anticipation eating away at her self-control. It had been almost two months since she last drank the juice, as her aunt hadn't allowed her any since. The woman claimed it was non-organic and bad for her health, but she could not stand drinking the crappy, sugary blood that her aunt seemed to favor.

Her aunt's taste in things had always been too sweet and heavy for Priscilla's liking. The branded tomato juice was a little tangier and refreshing, much more suited for her tastes. After months of being force-fed supposed healthy foods to maintain her physique, a little cheat day wouldn't hurt, would it?

"Pardon me," With a blunt lackluster tone of voice, Priscilla politely addressed the group in front of the vending machine. Her voice was as gentle as the sway of water in a tranquil pond and smoother than the very silk she donned. "Would you mind moving aside? I want to buy something."

Silence promptly befell the loud youths as they hastily ceased their conversations. Collectively, they faced her, and if she had bothered paying any attention, she might have commented on their above-average looks, though not better than her own. They certainly didn't compare to a vampire's ethereal charm. She could have pointed out the seemingly green-tinted air about them as well, but that was obvious with what they were speaking about.

Anyway, she was far too focused on the red pouch of juice displayed inside the vending machine. A golden cross on the package's corner indicated it was the type of treat which only those of her kind drank. Below it's brand mark were the words Extra Onion & Garlic extract, which spelled for an atrocious flavor that near always dissuaded most humans from purchasing it. No sane person would drink straight tomato juice, especially not with such pungent additions, no matter if it was fancily labeled as sparkling.

Besides, it was rather expensive, priced an extra two dollars more than the incredibly normal tomato juice variety placed beside it. That way, even if one did like tomato juice, they would be more inclined to buy it at a lower price. And for the adventurous few trying it for the first time, why waste so much to get a possibly disgusting beverage?

Priscilla could perceive that her eyes had brightened up, flashing a deadly red in her exhilaration. She hoped the teenagers hadn't noticed, though she didn't care enough to check. Her hands itched to hold the juice as soon as possible, not caring for the growing proximity between her and the scornful bearings of the youths.

A girl promptly scuttled forward with little prompting from her friends, descending into a deep bow. Her mousy locks fell short of her collar, tied in two pigtails with some wisps framing panicked round eyes that vehemently avoided Priscilla's unbothered ones. As she stepped aside while firmly pulling some of her friends along, her distinctly eloquent voice spoke and gestured for Priscilla to proceed. "Sincerest apologies, Miss! We won't obstruct you any further."

The subservient tone caused Priscilla to raise the perfectly arched brows which pieced her exquisite features. The female student was awfully polite to someone who, as far as she knew, was the same age as her. That was only in terms of appearance, though, as Priscilla had turned seventeen long before she was born.

With a sarcastic pallor, the ravenette couldn't help pointing out, "There's no need to be so polite. Are we not the same age?"

"O-of course, I'm very sorry. If you'll allow, I'll speak more casually." The girl frantically bowed her head in submission. She kept her volume as low as she possibly could, with onlookers being unable to hear her. She was overly cautious in her stance, refusing to meet anyone's gaze. Quite possibly, she knew what Priscilla was.

"Ruby, stop acting like a wuss. What's wrong with you?" Another teen with dark hair and a healthy wheat complexion had stepped before the girl. With his brawny arms crossed before his chest, he reprimanded his timid-looking friend before throwing a glare at Priscilla. "Can't you see we were in the middle of something? Get your juice after we're done."

This one didn't know what she was, Priscilla inwardly mused. But that was to be expected, not every human would know she was a high-standing vampire of society and she didn't mind much. It would only be more humorous after she put him back in his place. He and his friends would be left wondering whether they'd been blabbing too loudly or not.

"I wasn't aware that insulting your friend was such a trifling matter. You can do that anywhere in here." Priscilla crossed her own arms, mirroring his pose as she tilted her head in a certain direction. The faces of the kids in their group suddenly reddened, even more than the timid Ruby, who was currently backing away in a panic at their side.

"I suggest you do it to his face, in fact. Talking behind someone's back is rather deplorable." The direction Priscilla had indicated pointed directly at the boy they had just been trash-talking. He was a frail young man with flaming ginger locks and lively green eyes. At the moment, he was across the lounge and out of earshot, happily buying snacks from another vending machine. They were likely for his so-called friends, as a lot of items sat bunched within his arms.

Having used her vampire hearing, she knew almost everything they'd said about him. Not only had they claimed to despise the innocent boy, but they kept him around simply because he was from an insanely rich family. They milked the boy of his money under the guise of friendship and presumably had never spent a dime on him in return.

That was beyond scummy of them as they were just as rich if they attended the prestigious academy she suspected they did. As if to further establish their wretchedness, the snarky teen began taunting her. "Oh, yeah? What are you gonna do about it, little girl?"

Priscilla sucked in a sharp breath, maintaining a calm state of mind. She frankly was a bit shorter than the other, though that did not change how she was taller than the average person. Initially, she had planned to let his rude attitude slide. She could not afford to cause a mishap on this night, it was much too important to her aunty. But now that he'd personally insulted her, someone had to be taught a hard lesson.

"Burt, please don't do anything stupid. Get back here..." The brunette tried warning her larger friend, but the male would not listen. As he approached Priscilla, she decided to save him the effort by closing the distance as well. They were eventually neck and neck with each other, stony expressions upon both their pleasant features.

She guessed this was his way of intimidating her, though it wasn't working very well. Mere inches apart, his breath washed right over her. Priscilla wrinkled her delicate nose at the thought of taking in the human's smell. That was until she caught the scent of a certain thing that she craved immensely.

"Mhmm, you drink the tomato juice too?" Priscilla murmured softly into his ear as she got unbearably closer. Of course, she wasn't talking about the vampire-specific 'juice' but rather the human one. Although she didn't need to consume it, she'd occasionally get the cross-less packet of tomato juice for fun. It happened to be quite delicious, and it seemed this human unexpectedly had one himself not too long ago.

"I like it as well, but there's something I like even better~" Bringing her hands to his shoulders, Priscilla had to push herself up a bit to reach his collar. He flinched at the touch; pupils constricted as a silent wave of regret hit him. She pressed her lips into the warmth, hoping he could feel the evil smirk upon her face, and evidently, he did. "Shall I show you?"

Her fangs were promptly protracted, grazing against his taut skin ever so slightly. He was utterly frozen under her, whether from fear or something else, she could not tell. But she soon got her answer as his energy changed, turning a light shade of purple.

Now, you may wonder what these random mentions of color allude to. An explanation will generously be provided as of now if you would kindly read on.

See, every human had an energy surrounding them, an aura of sorts that defined them. Only supernatural beings could feel these energies, though. It was a controllable ability that could, in a sense, be turned on at will. These energies were perceived through the eyes and touchable under certain circumstances. They all had different textures unique to the individual, though it was possible to share similar features.

Some resembled softer objects, and others had more rough, hard, or insubstantial textures. The real commonality between them was how they could all change color based on their person's feelings.

There was a whole rainbow of colors, generally categorized into the basic seven plus extras. The color purple, for example, represented lust. The intensity of the emotions was classified by how saturated the color may be. The closer that purple got to black, the more intense a person's desire would be. This meant that the lighter the shade of the color, the less intense the feelings of the human were, and vice versa.

To generally label them, the color red signified feelings of hatred or anger, both rather intense emotions. Blue predictably meant sorrow and fear. Yellow was for silent acceptance or indifference, neutral despite its brightness. Orange expressed happiness and joy, given its vibrancy. Green as it was, conveyed envy. Purple had been a rather difficult one to decipher, though it was now chalked to lust and desire. Lastly, pink represents feelings of romance and, like, occasionally, the flutters you receive from nervousness.

Of course, these were only assumptions made over the years and could not go into depth on how a person might truly feel. But that never stopped others from referring to this ability.

Burt, at the moment, was feeling slightly hot from the touch of those lips on his neck. He hadn't realized that there were two incredibly sharp weapons aimed at a vital spot of his. A single bite could have him spontaneously sucked dry, and definitely not in the kinky kind of way.

The boy must've been very thick in his head to not understand the situation. Luckily for him, Priscilla would never actively harm a human without granted permission. Besides, it would only create an unnecessary mess for her aunty to clean up.

What had started as a bit of purple rapidly darkened as Priscilla slid a hand down Burt's hardened chest. She had the urge to squeeze one of his toned pecs, even flash out her claws and rip his shirt to shreds. A chuckle left her lips, sending a puff of air down Burt's shirt. She had decided to play around a bit, but she would resist the risky urges for the good of them both.

Before the male's energy could turn a fully saturated purple, which would've meant he was super easy to turn on, Priscilla swiftly stepped back and turned around. Directly behind her stood the happy-go-lucky ginger holding countless chips and juices in his hands.

His eyes widened as she unexpectedly faced him. A healthy blush ran up his cheek, turning them almost as red as his hair. His energy, which felt like a soft and comforting satin, swirled into a light shade of pink.

Priscilla smirked down upon him as the other was slightly shorter. He probably thought she was pretty and well, she couldn't really deny it. After all, she did resemble her aunty, a breathtaking beauty that transcended generations. She was forced to recite how gorgeous the woman was every so often. Though Priscilla rarely meant it, the truth was undeniable in itself.

In addition to that, she possessed some features of her father as well. She had to admit the man was basically a god. His looks weren't inferior to the actual people of the god race that lived in the heavenly city made for airborne supernaturals. She truly had blessed genes.

The boy before her happened to be cute, though, and she vehemently wished to squeeze his soft, freckled cheeks. His straight, slightly overgrown hair covered half of his lovely eyes. That couldn't block how radiantly they shone, though, strangely with joy. He seemed so happy that she was reluctant to inform him of the ordeal with his friends. So instead, she asked him a question.

"May I have that juice right there?" She pointed to a certain red pouch that had a cross on it, buried within this heap of snacks. Priscilla needed to avoid the instance of mortal drinking blood, more specifically, human blood. The boy really hadn't minded spending a whole ten dollars more for his friends.

Priscilla leaned forward and gave her most sincere smile, hoping it eased him up a bit. She would have to take the pouch from his hands before he realized what was in it. Unfortunately, he grew stiffer, and the energy around him turned a slightly darker pink. Uh oh, it seemed she was a bit too charming for him.

"Uh, u-um, t-this drink is for Burt. I c-can't give it to you, I'm s-sorry..." The youth stammered in a shaky tone, face possibly redder than it should be. Priscilla watched him glance directly behind her, where a rigid Burt stood. Even without looking, she knew that the hulking teen's energy had calmed down a bit.

The purple had lightened a significant amount. The leathery texture of his energy felt pleasant but the color wasn't looking too good at the moment. There was now a twinge of envious green in the mix, possibly with some red and blue. Was he....feeling jealous?

"Actually, he doesn't want it anymore and let me have it." With that said, she grabbed the pouch right out of the shorty's hands, opened it up, and took a long sip. He was instantly dumbfounded, unable to do a thing as he looked on with his mouth agape.

Even as she gave him a peck on the cheek, making sure to have no excess 'juice' touched him, he did not move. She couldn't help a teasing smile grace her features as she expressed her gratitude. "Thank you very much, darling."

Immediately walking away, Priscilla took a seat at one of the nearby benches spread around, already feeling drama boil up. While drinking her 'tomato juice', she observed the cutie's face that was left as a tomato.

He had remained frozen in place, a hand help up to where she'd kissed him. His energy was already a dark, rouge pink. But the near red hue didn't represent dislike, as Burt's new color certainly did. It showed intense liking. He must've really liked her now. And for some reason, she didn't mind it.

"Theo! Why did you do that?" She heard Burt demand from a distance, not without pretending to be occupied with something else. Inside, she was a bit curious on whose behalf the big jerk was jealous of. Is the boy named Theo or possibly her? The little homosexual buried within her told Priscilla it was the ginger, but that might've been her denial of another human falling for her unintentionally.

"Sorry, Burt. I didn't think she'd pull it from my hands...did you really give it to her?" The ginger answered back slightly more calmly, setting the snacks in his arms down. Slowly, a few of the surrounding kids stepped forward to claim their chosen goods. Even in this confusing situation, they didn't forget to extort the poor human's goodwill.

Priscilla was somewhat exasperated at how selfish humans could be, but it wasn't anything new. Besides, supernaturals were just as greedy. Always looking to get more and more of things they shouldn't have at all.

Anyway, she shifted focus back onto the two males. Burt had suddenly hooked Theo by the neck and ruffled the boy's hair. It would've looked like an act of kinship had the latter not flinched from obvious discomfort. She was sure those big fists on that delicate scalp only spelled the four-letter word 'hurt'.

"Of course not, dumbass. What am I supposed to drink now?" As he chastised the boy, Burt unconsciously turned to glare in Priscilla's direction. It was short-lived though because as soon as he caught her gaze, the previously mixed colors became a solidified purple. It had her stunned for a solid minute, and she held his gaze before looking away. The other clearly did not second guess himself when it came to matters of the heart- er, body in this case.

Just as quickly, he turned back and released Theo from his grasp. The latter seemed used to the treatment, shrugging it off and offering to buy another drink. Priscilla worried about him buying another blood pack, so she quickly sucked dry the one in her hands. As soon as it finished, she tossed it into the special recycling box, made just for waste from foods that humans wouldn't eat. She licked over her fangs, hoping no leftover blood had stained them red.

Heading straight towards the vending machine closest to them, Theo brought out his wallet to fish out some bills. Seeing this, Priscilla internally panicked, increasing her speed as she approached them once again. Luckily, she got there quick enough with her super speed, though of course, she hadn't used much of it right then. She could have outright blocked him from buying the cross-labeled pack but that would raise some suspicions on her speed.

"Ruby, was it? This drink right here doesn't taste as good as that one over there. Plus it's more expensive, don't you think it's a waste to buy?" Left with no choice, Priscilla hinted at the girl who knew her true identity to persuade Theo. He absolutely could not buy the special 'tomato juice'. Her goading proved worthwhile. The girl was his friend, after all.

Ruby had gotten the hidden meaning in the other's words, nodding in agreement with Priscilla. As she turned to Theo and barred him from buying the drink with distracting words, Priscilla took it upon herself to deal with the other problem beside her. "I don't believe I've gotten your full name?"

She turned toward Burt, trying hard to begin a meaningless conversation. He happened to take the bait, as his eyes never once wavered away from her figure. They burned with an intensity that she was quite used to, although in a very different manner. Usually, it was her aunty's glares or her brother Gabriel's soulless stare, as if she wasn't his little sister and family member.

"William Alburt O'Connell, but you can call me Will. What about you?" The brunette brusquely answered, extending a hand. Priscilla shook in greeting, tauntingly scratching the inside of his palm. He jolted from the sudden provocation, staring her down with his ardent eyes.

She giggled lowly before replying to his obviously guised demeanor. But she was a bit surprised to find his first name was different from what she initially thought. He even wanted her to call him by it. "It's rather nice to meet you, Will. My name is-"

Priscilla readied herself to tantalizingly walk off as she said this when a startling pressure fell down upon the room. The humans obviously hadn't noticed the strange shift, but as a vampire, she inevitably felt that someone else of her kind had entered the room. She was ready to release her own pressure and face against it when she heard the clicking of high heels heading directly toward her.

Before Priscilla could finish her words, a voice interrupted her from behind. She prickled from the familiar sound calling out to her. "Priscilla, my dear niece."