"Whatcha want?" Derrick asked emotionlessly, rubbing at a glass in a grim parody of cleaning it. Thibor could not help but notice that Derrick was
several finger joints short of the full complement. He also noticed that Derrick had started with a half score more finger joints than the standard, so perhaps
there was some karmic force at work. A karmic force prone to assuming the fetal position, giggling happily to itself and engaging in double fisted onanism.
"Beer. In bottle." It was the safest option. "And information."
"Yes. Five bucks. No." Derrick slapped a bottle of Paragon macrobrew on the counter. Thibor considered the bottle and the response. This was a dance
that he was used to. He assumed his werewolf aspect. His frame stretched and expanded, muscles swelled, and his features drew out into a long lupine muzzle.
Derrick kept a bored expressed that was slightly undone by a single rivulet of sweat that chased down one side of his face and landed with an audible plop on
the bar top. The large man at the table, having been subjected to the parrot and now the presence of a werewolf, abandoned his beer and cheese sticks and fled
on suddenly shaky legs.
Thibor then ate the bottle of macrobrew, chewing the bottle to shards and swallowing the whole thing with a grating, throaty, gulp. He brushed foam from his
muzzle, then for good measure he punched the parrot. The thing let out a horrendous squawk of indignation as it was slammed off its perch and sent crashing
into a collection of tequila bottles. It regained its feet, shook itself, dipped its beak into one of the broken bottles, gargled heartily and then flew back
to its perch, unhurt by a punch that would have reduced a sixties era Volkswagen to so much Teutonic shrapnel. It lifted on foot and turning the claws upwards,
made a classic two fingered British gesture of defiance at Thibor.
Derrick nodded. Thibor handed him a fiver. Their professional relationship thus established Thibor slapped a photo on the counter.
"What dost thou want to know?" Derrick's voice had changed, becoming almost musical. His features had changed too, becoming less human, leaner
and more drawn.
"Sparkle vampire." The picture was of a pale, handsome, young man, his finely boned features seeming to glisten with an inner light. His lips were
slightly parted and long, curved canines were clearly visible. The sun was visible in the sky behind him.
"I know not of sparkle vampires." Derrick said. The parrot began laughing, a shrieking sound more akin the to the Wicked Witch of the West having a
screaming, flying monkey induced orgasm than anything even remotely associated with humour.
"Am not knowing either." Thibor said dryly. "And new kind of vampire is never good thing. Is simpler question, is knowing who this is?"
several finger joints short of the full complement. He also noticed that Derrick had started with a half score more finger joints than the standard, so perhaps
there was some karmic force at work. A karmic force prone to assuming the fetal position, giggling happily to itself and engaging in double fisted onanism.
"Beer. In bottle." It was the safest option. "And information."
"Yes. Five bucks. No." Derrick slapped a bottle of Paragon macrobrew on the counter. Thibor considered the bottle and the response. This was a dance
that he was used to. He assumed his werewolf aspect. His frame stretched and expanded, muscles swelled, and his features drew out into a long lupine muzzle.
Derrick kept a bored expressed that was slightly undone by a single rivulet of sweat that chased down one side of his face and landed with an audible plop on
the bar top. The large man at the table, having been subjected to the parrot and now the presence of a werewolf, abandoned his beer and cheese sticks and fled
on suddenly shaky legs.
Thibor then ate the bottle of macrobrew, chewing the bottle to shards and swallowing the whole thing with a grating, throaty, gulp. He brushed foam from his
muzzle, then for good measure he punched the parrot. The thing let out a horrendous squawk of indignation as it was slammed off its perch and sent crashing
into a collection of tequila bottles. It regained its feet, shook itself, dipped its beak into one of the broken bottles, gargled heartily and then flew back
to its perch, unhurt by a punch that would have reduced a sixties era Volkswagen to so much Teutonic shrapnel. It lifted on foot and turning the claws upwards,
made a classic two fingered British gesture of defiance at Thibor.
Derrick nodded. Thibor handed him a fiver. Their professional relationship thus established Thibor slapped a photo on the counter.
"What dost thou want to know?" Derrick's voice had changed, becoming almost musical. His features had changed too, becoming less human, leaner
and more drawn.
"Sparkle vampire." The picture was of a pale, handsome, young man, his finely boned features seeming to glisten with an inner light. His lips were
slightly parted and long, curved canines were clearly visible. The sun was visible in the sky behind him.
"I know not of sparkle vampires." Derrick said. The parrot began laughing, a shrieking sound more akin the to the Wicked Witch of the West having a
screaming, flying monkey induced orgasm than anything even remotely associated with humour.
"Am not knowing either." Thibor said dryly. "And new kind of vampire is never good thing. Is simpler question, is knowing who this is?"