Still, The Delancey offered fresh ‘meat’ as it were and that was precisely what Francis had traveled all this way to find. Despite how he might feel about the self proclaimed ‘gothic’s’ they were more than likely his best bet if he had any chance of finding a woman to bear his child.
Francis selected his black tailored suit and a deep red shirt that coordinated perfectly with the violet glint in his eyes. His short near black hair was spiked in one of the seemingly ‘trendy’ hairstyles of the age and he had splashed on a dab of the aftershave that had been provided in his bathroom suite. He stood in front of the bathroom mirror. He certainly looked much different to his twelfth century self, but then again, he supposed, any one would. Glancing at himself one last time, he flicked off the bathroom light and took a look around the room to ensure he had left no telltale signs. After all, should he return with company, he wouldn't want to give himself away. That always led to such a messy outcome. With the certainty that all was clear, Francis took a deep breath and headed out in to the night. He was relieved to find the concierge desk empty as he made his way down the corridor. He made a mental note to stay somewhere without such invasive service in the next city on his list. Although, of he was being honest, Francis rather hoped that he wouldn't have to go to any other cities. Traveling was tiring and it always involved much more planning than he had the patience for.
The night was cool and much more reminiscent of home for Francis. He couldn't help but smile to himself as the wind bit at his cheeks sharply. He pulled his blazer around him and cursed himself for not bringing his woolen coat with him. As he stood on the sidewalk in front of the hotel, he watched the throngs of people passing by. Where, he wondered, could so many people be going at such a late hour? They weren't kidding when they called it the city that never sleeps. Francis turned to his right and glanced down the sidewalk.
The Delancey more than a couple of miles from his hotel, but with the sheer number of people bustling past him, Francis found himself more than willing to take a cab. The stench was almost unbearable as he pulled his shoulders inward and tried to avoid being touched at all while the doorman hailed a cab for him. The feeling of relief was almost overwhelming when he slipped in to the dim backseat. Although the entire car smelled stagnant, it was much preferable to Francis than smelling stagnant and being touched by hundreds of strangers.
When the cab pulled up in front of the DeLancey some twenty minutes later, Francis pulled a small crumple of bills from his pocket and hopping out of the cab gingerly, he posted them through the driver’s window. The driver looked at him strangely for just a moment but when it became obvious that Francis wasn't going to be the first to look away, he sped off. Francis turned slowly to look at the building in front of him. It was nothing like he had imagined, but he could smell the popularity of the place from outside on the street. Jerking his head from side to side he cracked the vertebra in his neck and then taking a deep breath he walked inside.
“Hey, sexy!” A voice called to him as soon as he crossed the threshold. He glanced over to see a tall woman with chocolate colored skin beckoning him over with a long slender finger. He looked her up and down before turning away. As he walked further in to the club he could hear her shouting abuses at him and he couldn't help but smirk. He did like a feisty woman, but she wasn't what he was looking for. The picture in his mind was clear and he knew that he would know her when he saw her.
The damask patterned wallpaper hung above the deep red velvet benches and overhead numerous chandeliers cast their dim glow. Francis surveyed the room. A number of ‘goth’ looking women were sipping multicolored drinks from dainty glasses. Francis sighed, this wasn't what he had expected at all. They all puckered their ruby lips and fiddled with the silver rings that punctuated their nostrils. No, he definitely couldn't see any of these women being whom he was seeking. Still, it wouldn't hurt to practice.
Francis went to the bar and ordered himself a whiskey. As he waited for the man wearing heavy eyeliner to pour his drink, he turned back to the crowd behind him. He needed to know who he was going to approach. She certainly shouldn't be the most physically appealing – while Francis was aware of just how handsome he was, he wasn't in the mood to battle it out with a guy in a trench coat over someone he had no intention of impregnating.
The bartender handed him his drink. Francis pushed a ten dollar bill across the bar top and turned back to the girls. It was then that he spotted her. Her long brown hair was cut to her shoulders and while her skin was pale, it was naturally so unlike the majority of the women he could see who had caked pale powder on their faces. She sat in the corner of one of the velvet benches, surrounded on both sides by a large crowd of people, but seemingly unnoticed by them all. Yes, Francis decided, she was the one he would go home with tonight.