1
The Vampire came to the bar just after the Yang Seven lights dimmed to a deeper blue to signify the onset of evening. She was tall with the standard night black hair and alabaster skin, but her clothes were unusual; no lace or leather, just practical grey-green combats, a loosely fitting unbranded t-shirt and a stay-clean jacket of pale blue. No tats either, another surprise, as was her smile. It had none of the cunning or predatory calculation they spent hours perfecting in the mirror - and yes, they do show up in mirrors, gene-splicing has its limits. There was an openness to it, extended canines notwithstanding.
She took a seat at the bar, the tone of her greeting as bright as her smile. “Hi!”
I said, “I don’t stock plasma or blood subs.”
There was the smallest twitch in her smile
