[I] Picking on the New Boy

Damien strolled idly through the vestibule, a small green rucksack of his tattooing materials swinging from his shoulder.

His eyes were heavy and dark from working late the night before. It seemed like he had been doing all work and no play recently. Sure, he had been out to the pub from time to time, brought a few guys home, but that was as far as it went.

He looked up sharply as he smelt a new scent. Someone he didn't recognise.

"Hey, fresh meat." he greeted the stranger, striding over, a slight skip in his step.

The youthful-looking vampire has a notepad in his hand, taking inventory of everything he had delivered to the coven weeks ago from Mumbai including, but not limited to four brief cases of neatly pressed and folded suits as well as bags of personal items and a singe chest of his literature. One of many, the rest he left back in a storage unit in England.

He scans the items with careful eyes, making note of any dents or scratches in his belongings. Jim jumps slightly when he hears the voice of another male, an odd air about him that Jim can't quiet put his finger on... He is definitely some sort of supernatural being though.

Jim turns around on his heels and adjusts his glasses on his nose to get a better look at the man, who is indeed very rugged-looking and large. The vampires eyes widen slightly as he takes in the sight of him.

"...Well if I am going to be addressed as a piece of meat I would prefer to be referred to as Filet Mignon, thank you," Jim replies in a prim tone his eyes hooded slightly and his lips pursed.

Damien cocked an eyebrow. "Filet mignon? You think you're cute?"

His eyes scanned over the boy's possession's fleetingly.

"What, you bringing your house, my lord?" his voice had a mocking ring to it, a smirk curling the edges of his lips.

The kid seemed snobbish. His lip curled. He hated snobbish. He had been from a very working class background and people who were up themselves were asking to be taken down a peg.

He squared his shoulders, bulky muscles flexing slightly beneath his white t-shirt.

"Can your scrawny arms carry that?"

Jim's brow furrows, nose wrinkling slightly, and his cheeks dust over a blushy pink color from the whirlwind of back-handed insults coming from this brute of a man.

"I shall have you know it is none of your business whatsoever what I bring to this coven," he replies in a defensive tone, his eyes narrowing behind his glasses.

The vampire then snaps his fingers and his luggage levitates about town inches above the ground, his narrowed eyes never leaving the lycan's.

"I am adorable," he speaks frankly, turning up his nose as he starts to walk calmly away from Damien, his luggage following after him.