Sirius Orion Black the III should’ve died well over a hundred years go.
He doesn’t know the actual time he should’ve died, or how long he’s really been living, but in this place in London, he’s been here about a decade or so.
Being the last surviving “Black” did boost his funds, so the former aristocrat doesn’t really have to work. But who in this day and age isn’t struggling to get by, especially people as old as how he looks?
At least his batty cousin Bella waited until he was of proper drinking age to tie him permanently to this state. He couldn’t imagine being any younger for all eternity and every bar in the world casting him out for his perpetual baby face.
Speaking of bars and jobs and how old he truly is, Sirius Black rolls up the sleeves of the stainless white top, still emanating a slightly bleach smell for the man with the heightened senses.
Sirius Black’s gotten a job in a district of London frequented by many supernatural creatures. He himself stumbled in this place a while back, when he’d gone on a bender and drunk way too much blood from way too many inebriated people.
Honestly, it was the fastest way to get under any substance, with it already mixed into the human’s life-giving blood. But he’d been sucking from too many people with too many different drugs, leaving them to detox him in the back room.
Sirius hasn’t had to do that to too many other people. Nowadays the newer vampires have more respect for their food source and don’t go wild. And once they get over their first few weeks, the cravings aren’t as intense, leaving many more vagrants with all of their blood intact.
But, when the pale man walks through the door with haunted hazel eyes lit up by the lounges’ ambient lights, he can instantly tell that he’s going through something.
Honestly, listening to people was the second favorite part of his job, unlike most bartenders. Though, the discounted booze and blood were still the absolute first.
Sirius locks eyes with the pale man, beckoning him to come and take a seat right in front of Sirius’ bar. And like most men do when Sirius looks at them, he listens.
“What can I take you for, stranger?”
“Remus.” He tells him, “and uh, what’s the cheapest thing you got?”
Sirius smiles, “That depends on what you need to get you drunk. More human parts will cost extra, but if you’re lucky enough to get a buzz without it, most of the craft beers are pretty cheap.”
“Then I’ll take that.” Remus tells him, “I don’t need anything… special.”
“This is a supernatural bar, you know?” Sirius talks to him as he gets his drink ready, “We don’t need to get squeamish about this stuff.”
“I’m not squeamish.” Remus tells him, “I’m just not used to other people like me.”
“And what would ‘like you’ entail?” Sirius passes him the glass as Remus takes a long drink before answering, “Werewolf. You?”
“Vampire.” Sirius answers back, “So we couldn’t be any more different, could we?”
Remus blinks at him with the hazel eyes that up close, Sirius swears aren’t solidly that, but greenish in certain spots, “Are werewolves and vampires supposed to hate each other?”
“You’re telling me you haven’t seen any teen media?” Sirius leans up against the bar, ignoring that it'll most likely mess with his outfit and he’ll have to bring out the bleach again, “Vampires and werewolves are mortal enemies.”
“Didn’t watch much television growing up, I’m afraid.” Remus admits and Sirius lets a pause go by before picking the conversation back up, “Neither did I, but that’s because the television wasn’t invented until after I was turned.”
“So you weren’t born a vampire?”
Sirius shakes his head, “To what I understand, vampires can’t really have biological children. We don’t have the lifeforce to do it.”
“Lifeforce?”
“The stuff we derive from the blood.” Sirius clarifies, “Humans make it naturally. We gotta take it from them.”
“Only humans?”
“That's all I’ve had.” Sirius tells him, “Behind the bar we got blood from animals for cheaper, but I’ve seen so many ethical debates over this that I don’t offer it from the jump. And something told me that you weren’t a vampire when you went to the door, so no need to show you the whole menu, you know?”
“And yet you still offered… more human parts, as you called it?”
“I didn’t know what you were, just fairly certain you weren’t a vampire.”
Remus finishes off his drink, looks at it and then back at Sirius, “I think I can splurge for once. Just moved to London, you know? What do you suggest?”
Sirius smiles wider, showing off his fangs and asks, “Do you trust me?”
“With alcohol?” Remus clarifies his answer, “Sure.”
“And nothing else, Remus?”
“We just met, didn’t we?”
“You wound me.” Sirius goes to start making something for Remus, “and I thought we were getting along.”
“I can get along with people I don’t trust.”
“Well that’s an admirable trait.” Sirius tells him and then passes a different glass, “But, I don’t think I share the same sentiment.”
Remus looks at the drink, swirls it absentmindedly in his hand, and then tries it, “So you trust me, don’t you?”
“I do enough.” Sirius says, “I trust you enough to have a good conversation, and that’s enough for me.”
“This is good. Truly.” Remus remarks, then asks, “How good of conversation?”
“Good enough that I’d continue it off the clock.”
“Something tells me that you don’t do that often.” Remus tells him and Sirius shakes his head slightly, “Not as much as I used to, anyways.”
“So if I gave you my number, you’d text back?”
“I’d probably have to get a phone with texting capabilities.” Sirius says, “but… I’m not opposed to it.”
“Good.” Remus says, “Because I enjoy chatting, but I don’t think I could afford to come here as often as I wish, just to see you.”
“You’d do that?”
“If I had to.”
“Good.” Sirius smiles, passing him his receipt with a comped drink and a spot to Remus to put his number, which he promptly does and Sirius pockets that bit of information.