Instead of feeding, Gabrielle sat at the bar, lying about her age which didn't matter at all anyway, and drank. Christian, who had gone out with her let her do as she pleased. If that was how she wanted to act, then he would just sit and watch. Morning was dawning, and the patrons of the small bar along Chartres were filing out, back to their musty hotel rooms, and crammed houses. When Gabrielle first sat at the bar and asked for an entire bottle of Chartreuse, the barkeep raised his eyebrows. Chartreuse was rarely consumed at all anymore, and he wondered why she wanted it, as he reached under the bar for the bottle, pulling out the green and gold decorated bottle of bright green stuff. It was native to New Orleans, the patron drink of Chartres street, made of a thousand herbs, giving it a bright greenish hue, and a choking, stinging but sweet taste of Altars. Legend had it, if you drank enough your eyes would take on the green colour. Romanticising the legend, Christian took the bottle away from Gabrielle, examining its half finished contents and he almost expected to be caught off guard by a glowing greenness resonating from her face. There was none, and two tired, red rimmed brown eyes started at him, vaguely wondering why he had taken the bottle away.

"I'm closing up now." The man behind the bar who looked more than an accountant with a night job said, grabbing the money Christian had set down on the bar. "Is she gonna be okay, kid? I mean, I haven't seen anyone order a bottle of that stuff for years, and even then, its only around Mardi Gras time." He looked at Christian, who started to coax Gabrielle off of the high stool.

"She'll be fine. I'll get her home, and everything will be fine."

"I sure hope so." The barkeep said, escorting the pair to the door. "Whatever the hell happened, get it resolved. I know she's not 19 by the way, but I also know that sometimes you have to believe peoples lies."

"Thanks. I don’t know if it helped, but thanks, at least for the Chartreuse. I haven't seen any around for a long time." They walked out the door, Christian with the half empty bottle in one hand, and supporting Gabrielle with the other, as the walked to the car.

A figure stepped out from the furthest booth in the bar and stood in front of the barkeep.

"That was the one my friend left?"

"If the one your friend left is a seventeen year old vampire named Gabrielle, then yes." The figure ran long, thin fingers with short, black nails over the fading wood of the bar.

"Excellent." He said, rough British accented voice thick with whatever he had been drinking. "Edge - " he called, as Edge walked from the same booth, and stood beside him. "That was her." The man smiled. "She's old fashioned Edge. She drinks old drinks. You want her with us?" A ruthless, cruel smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he watched Edge's eyes become hungry.

"Yes." Edge replied, as his tongue flicked quickly over his lips. "I want her again. I want to taste her." His companion smiled, and turned his head to the barkeep.

"Well, it doesn’t appear that you'll be getting Gabrielle tonight. Will he do?" At his gesture, the man behind the bar tensed, and his eyes grew wide, as Edge beamed sinisterly.

"yea…." He said, hopping swiftly over the bar and punching the barkeep out, before taking his blood from his beck. As the other vampire followed suit, and latched onto the man's wrist, they killed. Lifting his head, the vampire sighed and let the cold dead wrist fall.

"Just like old time." He mused, as Edge began to raid the cupboards of liquor bottles, taking as many as the could carry and the remaining two bottles of Chartreuse. It had always burned his soul.