Ah. London. There was no place like it.

Darius had been back in the city for a little over two weeks. It was not his favorite place, but no city would be, not for him, not with so many people crammed into such little space. Still, the underground job market thrived in such places, and so he adjusted, settling into the quiet life of an inoffensive foreigner just trying to get by.

It was night, at the moment. He didn't know exactly what time, only that the sun had set many hours before and the streets were fairly empty. That was fine by him. If he had to walk to the grocery store - since even criminal wizards had to eat - he'd much rather do it when it was quiet and no one was around. For one thing, it made stealing the groceries much easier.

The only sound on the street was that of Darius's boot heels clicking along the sidewalk. These grew louder as he detoured into a small alleyway, echoing between the two high, old buildings that framed either side. It was the sort of alley that normal people would avoid, but Darius liked them. They were private. And you could hear things.

Like the person who was following him.

In the center of the alley, Darius paused. He let his hand linger on the ten-inch knife he kept at his waist. He did not turn around, but he did lower his plastic bag of groceries to the ground. Whatever fool was on his heels, they would make the first move; and they would regret it. He would make sure of that.

Baine had lingered in London longer than he intended, and in doing so had caught the attention of the Ministry, much to his chagrin.  He had gotten careless, and his preying had caused a rift in suspicion amongst the city.  It had been nearly a week since he started hiding more efficiently from public eye and basically starved himself; having to settle on sewage rats and whatever stray cat or dog wandered about.  He figured it was an adequate enough amount of time that the Ministry would assume the culprit had gone AWOL.  He could start feeding again, starting off light before he moved on to the next town.  Though he needed to stay a bit longer: Baine still needed to investigate the possible whereabouts of his daughter.  But first things first, he needed to feed.

Tonight was the night.

Baine hid deep in the shadows and waited for a target for nearly an hour.  He wanted to start on someone with more girth, rather than a frail old lady, and by the raggedy traveler passing through the alley, he knew it was his time to pounce.  Slowly and stealth-like at a distance, Baine followed the man who carried a plastic bag of assorted groceries.  Baine could smell the man's blood--could feel it coursing through his veins.  Baine's lips twitched in anticipation: the man smelled delectable, and Baine was practically salivating.  It had been too long since he had fresh blood from that of a human.

Suddenly, the man stopped in the center of the alley, making Baine retreat into the shadows he had created, drawing into himself as to not be seen.  Baine mentally cursed himself.  He had become too excited and didn't take the necessary precautions as to not be heard by his prey.  Eying the rooftops on either side of the alley, he mentally cursed himself again for not thinking about scaling the buildings in the chase to get his prey.

He cocked his head slightly at the man: his hand lingered on something at his waist.  Is that a wand?  Poor creature; doesn't know what's in store for him.  He thought wickedly, lips curling over his piercing fangs.  Since magic had no effect on people like Baine, he was not worried in the slightest.  Just wait for the man to either give up and move on or have him make the first move.  I've got all night...

It'd been a minute now. Bu qeyri quanuni wasn't moving. Hmph.

Slowly, Darius walked two long, patient steps to the left and set his bag of groceries against the wall, where they would not be disturbed. As he returned to his original place, he took a mental inventory of his arms. There was the knife at his belt - eight inches - and the one in his right boot - five inches - and his wand, which was tucked up his left sleeve. It wasn't much to work with. Had he been on a job, he'd have secreted half-a-dozen other blades somewhere on his person, but for day-to-day activities, that seemed excessive. He would make do.

Hand never leaving his belt, he turned 180 degrees on the spot he'd returned to, facing the way he'd come. His sharp eyes peered into the darkness of the alley and he called, "Show yourself. Whoever you are. I do not not appreciate being followed."

Baine's lips twitched in amusement at the man acting brave.  The man really didn't know what was in store for him, and Baine delighted in these games.

Well, I've waited this long, I might as well wait a little longer and have a little fun. he thought wickedly, narrowing his eyes and stepping out of the shadows casually.  His dress shoes echoed in the alley eerily, and his long button-up black pea-coat billowed at his sides.  Once directly in line with the man in the alley and out of the dark, he stopped and faced him with a calculating look.  Eyes tracing the man across from him, he spotted what looked like a knife at his belt.  Ah, so he plans on slashing me, then.  This does sound fun.

"Here I am," he called lowly: his Icelandic accent giving his voice a certain twang.  The air around Baine seemed to have a life of its own, which was ironic, considering what he was.  "What will you do next, hm?  Slash at me?  I must warn you, though, I am no easy target." he said lightly; almost disinterestedly.

"Nor am I." Darius narrowed his eyes, judging the figure by his stance and his voice. The accent was Scandinavian, the dress pretentious, the attitude casual with an underlying hint of malice. Darius took a single step forward, shifting his stance into one ready for an attack, if that was what it came to, and spoke slowly to keep from stumbling over any English in his odd mixed-Middle-Eastern accent.

"If you are only here to talk, I would suggest you find another conversation partner. Otherwise, either state your business or leave me alone."

Baine smirked at his relentlessness.  Am I supposed to feel threatened? he thought with a quirked eyebrow, looking at the man change his stance.

"My business is very simple.  Though I doubt if I tell you you will be... accommodating.  Which, of course, is fine by me.  You see, I like to have a little fun before I feed.  Sort of like 'dinner and a show'." he informed casually.  Using his long and ghostly white fingers to unbutton his pea-coat, his black silk vest was a fine contrast to the white silk dress shirt underneath.  For someone who lurked in the shadows of the underground at all times, Baine was very well dressed.

Tossing his pea-coat to the side nonchalantly, he flexed his hands at his sides and straightened his stature.  If he wasn't an imposing force before, he surely would be one now.  Studying the man's face for any indication if he'll strike first, he waited.

The stranger was tall, but Darius - even with his left leg shorter than his right - was taller, and though he didn't hold himself as straight or as proud, he resisted intimidation. Still, he would have had to be a fool not to notice the danger, and the words - 'before I feed.'

How strange, to find a vampire here in London. It was almost...interesting.

He drew the eight-inch knife from his waist, flipped it into his grip. The blade, simple and sharp, caught a brief moonlight beam and flashed. This stranger, this vampire, was a lazy one. He was waiting for Darius to make the first move and, since Darius wasn't interested in waiting all night, he would have to oblige.

With a flash of the blade, Darius darted across the alley and swiped at the vampire's throat.

Baine reacted quickly as the man charged at him with the knife.  A mere inches from his throat, Baine slapped the man's hand away as if swatting a fly and took a step to the side.  "You're going to have to do better than that," he said through a mock yawn.  He loved taunting his victims into doing reckless things; angering them into giving it their all.  "I sure hope you have more tricks up your sleeve, otherwise this will be quite the anticlimactic ending for my entertainment." he said disinterestedly.

Baine rounded on the man to the other side in the blink of an eye, wanting to throw him off his course.

If Darius had been another sort of man, he would have smirked. In truth, he hadn't been going for a wounding blow with that first one, nor would he be doing so for several more to come. The first thing to do, in any fight, was to learn the style of his opponent. And this vampire was arrogant.

In a blink of an eye, the vampire rounded on him and disappeared in a blink of an eye, but Darius knew the trick; more than one wizard had tried the same not with speed but with aparation. An instant after the vampire disappeared, Darius spun into a high kick with his long leg, slamming through the air behind him with enough force to bring down a small camel.

Suddenly the force of the man's unexpected kick knocked Baine back a foot.  Huffing upon impact, he quirked his eyebrow at the mortal, oddly elated he had achieved in even touching him.  His lips curled over his teeth wickedly, shuffling side to side on his feet.  Now we're cooking, he thought in excitement.

Changing his game a bit, Baine evaded quickly into the shadows, jumping with all his strength up the alley wall and using the momentum to jump to the other building.  He jumped between both buildings until he reached the top of one.  Perching on the roof, he peered down at the man, calculating his next move.

Once ready, he jumped from the roof, aiming straight for the man in the alley, hoping to knock him down, even for a moment.

Darius's eyes darted around the alley, rounding where the vampire had been with his knife at the ready. He'd seen the jump, but didn't know where the creature had gone, but it couldn't be far - dark creatures did not give up their potential meals so easily. He turned in a slow circle, searching for movement in the shadows, and hissed through his teeth. Where was he? Where...?

The rushing wind of a body, dropping through the night, alerted him to the vampire's presence. Darius glanced up and dodged, leaping away from the attack, but he was too slow. The vampire caught his shouldler and Darius was knocked down, spun over 200 degrees before he hit the ground. His shoulder struck the ground painfully, and he bit down on his own tongue to hold in the yelp of pain.

After stunned split-second, he twisted to press his back against the pavement and slashed upwards with his knife, as much to defend himself as for any sort of attack.

Baine grinned inwardly at his success--however brief it was.  Pinning him to the ground, he narrowly dodged the man's slash attack with his knife, only making a small cut at his throat.  Barely enough to draw blood, Baine tilted his head back and laughed maniacally.  He truly did admire this man's spunk.  Gripping the man's blade and wrenching it away, he gazed down at him curiously.

"You have fire, kid," he said wickedly, narrowing his eyes.  "It's almost a shame I have to kill you, really," he added with a sigh and jumped up, a few feet away from the man, letting go of the blade.  He stretched his arms out as if to say 'come and get me' as his lips curled over his sharp teeth.

"You know, unless we can work out some deal,"

Kid? Darius suppressed a hiss. The vampire looked younger than him by a number of years and, though he knew that was no good judge of age for creatures like this, the words still grated. He was not a child. There was too much in him, too many years, too much twisting, for him to ever be called a child. His angry instincts wanted to lash out, but they were calmed by a more powerful force - his own quiet desire to never put more effort into something than he could expect to get out of it.

He rolled, popped up like a child's toy, and crouched on the ground, knees bent, almost sitting on the floor. He held his knife at the ready and scowled at the vampire over his knees. "What kind of deal?"

Baine's lips curled in amusement at the man.  "You seem like a man who knows a thing or two about... getting things done." he said cryptically, auburn eyes twinkling in the faintness of the moonlight.  "I'm looking for something.  Someone, I should say.  Something tells me you are skilled in that area.  Am I right?" he asked rhetorically.  Picking up his pea-coat from the shadows, he draped it across his shoulders lazily and stood in front of the man with narrowed eyes.

"If you help me find what I'm looking for, I'll help you with... whatever it is you want." he said through a sigh and picked at his coat idly.

"If not, then I have no choice but to drain you of blood, and, let's be honest, you had no chance of besting me." he added with a hint of humor.  "And, it would have been a shame to end your life--you have such a spunk I have not seen in a long time."

Arrogant, flashy, over-dramatic bastard. Darius's scowl depended. One, it was far too early to draw any conclusions about who would have won, since he'd yet to draw either his second knife or his wand; and two, if all vampires were this dramatized, he counted himself lucky to have never met one before. Still, there could be many worse things than a supernatural contact - particularly if he could get a sparring partner out of the deal to boot - and the implied job intrigued him.

"Looking for someone, eh?" he said, straightening and popping out a crick in his neck. "So it's another one of those jobs...all right then."

He flipped his knife around, tucked it into his belt, and saddled back to where he'd left his groceries. Glancing casually at the vampire, he jerked his head in the direction of his apartment. "Come on then. We can hammer out the details back at my place, and if you're that hungry, there's a butcher down the street that doesn't keep a close eye on his pig's blood."