Catherine had arrived early at the club, having offered to play for them. She had previously recorded the music for her songs, and she set up so that the songs would play in the order she wanted to sing them. She walked out on stage in her all black dress, shoes, and scarf tied in a rosette. Her silver cross is under the scarf, out of view, as always. She sang several songs, her last song being her favorite. The background tune was similar to Evanescence for this one, as she had adjusted the words to make it a more fast paced song like Going Under, instead of slow like it was previously. As her final song starts, she sings, her voice clear and beautiful,

"Everything's changing; how will I pull through?
I just don't know what to do.
Dying inside with each pain that you cause
Is my heart all that is lost?

A drop of blood, I feel so cold,
All I need's someone to hold.

Another day; another tear,
Another dream; another fear.
Will I live or will I die,
All I can do now is just cry

Blood and tears, it's all I see
Will my heart never be free?
You hold me close, and stir my fears,
All you give me now is tears

A drop of blood, I feel so cold,
All I need's someone to hold.

Another day; another tear,
Another dream; another fear.
Will I live or will I die,
All I can do now is just cry

My heart is dying,
I'm always crying,
You keep on killing,
Heart and mind of me.
Will I ever be free?

Another day; another tear,
Another dream; another fear.
Will I live or will I die,
All I can do now is just cry

A drop of blood, I feel so cold,
All I need's someone to hold.

Another day; another tear,
Another dream; another fear.
Will I live or will I die,
All I can do now is just cry"

The song ended and she listened to the applause, smiling brightly as she turns to walk off stage. A tear of happiness runs down her cheek.

A flash of colour against monochrome at a nearby table-- amber-orange against black and white.

The table for two is snug against the wall, round and directly under a hanging light, just like all the other tables. What's different about this one is the young man sitting at it. His skin is pale-- white, almost, in the light of the hanging lamp. His clothing is black-- not an uncommon get-up to find one in, in the Tequila. Even though the room is dim-- even though it's night outside-- the young man wears a pair of dark sunglasses, perched on a classical nose. His hair is a dash of colour against the rest of him-- soft, ear-length, and full of a range of colours in the amber family, from burnished gold to brown through reds and oranges.

He's clapping. Though the sunglasses make it difficult to tell, he seems to be looking directly at Catherine.

Catherine got down of the stage and retrieved her recorded background music, still smiling. The next group got on the stage, seeming nervous because of having a hard act to follow. She walked around, looking for a place to sit down for a while. The place was crowded, and there weren't many open seats. She sighs, realizing there isn't an empty table and looks around. She walks around, finally stopping by Nicodemus. "Is this seat taken?" she asks, motioning to the seat across from him with a slight smile.

A return smile and a shake of the head. His teeth flash white in the light.

"Up for grabs," he assures her.

She sits down and orders a soda, being to young to get anything alcoholic. She was a bit surprised they let her in at all. She sips her drink and sets it down, "Did you enjoy the performance?" She looked up at him, hoping for his honest opinion. She'd rather get a negative reaction than hear a lie about how she did.

"Lyrics a bit generic," Nicodemus starts, seeing the plea for honesty in her eyes, "But the vocals were strong... I can hear your influences." He smiles.

He does not have a drink, nor does he order one, though he does look old enough that he could.

She nods slightly, "I'm better at singing than writting lyrics." She seems to be saying that a bit more to herself than to him. She knew she wasn't all that great at writing, but she perfered singing anyway so she didn't care. She smiled, glad to hear the comment about vocals being strong.

The stranger nods. "Know your strengths," he agrees.

After a moment, he re-adjusts his sunglasses and asks, "You're Catherine, aren't you? They introduced you, but I didn't catch your full name."

"I prefer to go by Cat, though my full name is Catherine Davidson. What, if I may ask, is your name?" She was always fairly polite, but usually more so to people who had resemblance to Joseph, a dead friend of hers. What reminded her of Joseph right now was Nicodemus's pale skin.

The grin widens a bit at the corners, the pale-white skin stretching.

"Just call me Nico."

She smiles, "Well it's nice to meet you Nico." She sighs slightly, then starts talking just to pass the time, "You remind me a bit of an old friend of mine."

He brushes his hair back behind his ear. "Do I?"

His voice is soft, inviting her to talk further.

She nods, "I think what reminds me of him is because your pale. He was almost always pale. I miss him sometimes... he died." She knew why Joseph was always pale, but she knew better than to say something like that out loud. She didn't feel like being called crazy just because she knew about vampires. Either that, or saying that to the wrong vampire could get her killed; which Joseph had told her. She wasn't good at recognizing vampires on sight, but she suspected Nico was one.

"I'm very sorry." The proper thing to say in such a situation. Is he really sorry or is it an act? Too hard to tell.

"Was he sick?"

"Not really. He...He had anemia." she wasn't sure if that was a lie or not, because a vampires need for blood was similar to anemia. That, and it was the only way she knew to explain it without saying what he really was.

((Er... anemia means you have low iron in your blood... you get tired and pale, you catch diseases more easily. It's not a whole lot like vampirism.))

Nicodemus tilts his head to one side, his hair shining like strand of copper filigree.

"I didn't know you could die from that."

(I know, but she don't.) "He didn't die from that... he was killed." She says it simply, not wanting to go into detail about it.

(( Sorry. :heh: Wasn't clear.))

"Ah." Killed... like the conversation. Nicodemus pauses, choosing his next words.

She shrugged, "Life goes on I suppose...so do you come here often?" She decides to change the subject. She reached up and took off her scarf, as it was starting to feel a bit warm. Her cross necklace falls from beneath it where it had been hidden, and the scar on her neck that was also hidden by the scarf is visible as well. Vampire bite scars.

Beneath the cover of the dark sunglasses, Nicodemus' eyes are drawn to the singer's neck, and he gives a silent thanks that he and his coven in particular are not weak to crosses.

The vampire's manner changes, though subtly. This mortal might be the property of another.

He nods. "Often enough. I enjoy seeing amateur talent perform, and have been known to do a poetry reading or two, myself."

She touches the scar, realizing he probably noticed it. "Joseph and I fought every once and a while..." She mutters as a quick explaination for the marks, then goes back to the subject, "It's my first time here, I've only been in town a few days."

His tone is careful. "Did you come here alone?" Do you belong to another? It's not vital, but he would like to know if he's treading on someone else's territory. However, 'do you belong to another vampire' can be a very difficult question to ask.

"Yes, I've been on my own since Joseph was slain." She watched him, still suspicious that he is a vampire like Joseph was. She didn't mind being around vampires most of the time, but she liked to know.

He watches her in much the same manner-- does she know? Does she know I know?

A nods. "Slain... interesting choice of words. How long has it been?"

"Nearly a year." She wanted to be certain that her suspitions were correct, but it was a hard subject to bring up without sounding insane.

Nicodemus nods, then spins, looking over his shoulder and out the window into the night.

"Interesting in taking a walk?"

"Sure. Some fresh air would do me good." She stands up slowly, smiling. Outside away from the crowd would be the perfect opportunity to bring up the subject. Then she'd only sound crazy to one person, instead of anybody who happened to walk by the table as well.

Nicodemus stands as well, his trenchcoat billowing around his ankles, strands of his amber hair slipping over each other, catching the dim lights. Wordlessly, he offers Catherine a smooth white hand.

She takes his hand with a smile. She studies his movement and looks, still very curious about if he was what she suspected.

His skin is cool-- not cold, like ice, but cool. Where the warmth of body heat is expected, it might seem like ice.

He leads her towards the door, exerting only a delicate pressure on the mortal's hand.

She follows, not seeming surprised by the cool temperature of his skin. She hadn't even really expected him to be warm.

Reaching the door, he opens it and steps outside, releasing her hand to allow her to come freely after him. The night wind lifts thin strands of his hair into the air, blowing others into his face. His trenhcoat catches the wind and billows out to accomodate it.

She continues to walk with him, glancing up at the night sky. "It's a beautiful night tonight."

"It's always a beautiful night." Ah, small talk... he can see that the night sky isn't really what's on her mind. Too bad he can't see what is.

"Strange things sometimes happen at night..." she looks at him, "Sometimes people aren't always as they appear."

"Few people are." She has marks-- but would she know what they were from? Not all of his did.

"I'm probably going to sound crazy saying this...but..." she sighs, "Are you... Are you a vampire? I mean, I know Joseph was, and I let him give me the marks on my neck..." She goes silent, not wanting to sound like she's rambling on.

"And why would you let him do that?" She didn't know, but she suspected. Interesting.

"Why not? He didn't kill me, and he needed blood to survive. I couldn't blame him for being different." She pauses, "You didn't answer my question..."

Nicodemus smiles.

It's when he smiles like this that one realises that, most of the time, he isn't smiling with his whole mouth. When he smiles with his whole mouth-- like now-- the abnormally sharp incisor teeth are obvious.