And It's Bleeding in Your Hand [joram]

Ah the night, it was something this kid could get used to, but tonight he replaced the usual stark black wine bottle with a couple glass bottles of firewhiskey. It wasn't uncommon for him to be meeting anyone around these parts, in all honesty he was here almost every single day. He was able to smuggle in goods from almost all parts of the world, and no one dared to look at him twice. That was just the sort of person Joram Mortelle was outside the bed and walls of his own room, be it with another man or a woman, he was completely different when he was on his own.

Turning from the darkest side alley within Knockturn Alley, he could already feel that Rodolphus was looking for him, and it wasn't until he saw the dark and rather lean body of Lestrange enter the all too familiar pub. One of these days Jorrie would surely manage to get the great Rodolphus Lestrange into bed with him, but now was not the time for thoughts along those lines. This was strictly business, but the other thing would be strictly business as well. It was all a matter of perspective for this kid, he considered everything a job well done when the other person is covered in sweet sweet sweat or the folds of death enveloped the eyes as they swiftly drifted into a deep and unresponsive coma.

Sadly, while his year was spent within the walls of the school he's had to refrain from that which is natural to a being like him. Unlike most vampires that walk this earth, his blood was more refined and pure. Nobility coursed underneath his skin and that gave him the power to withstand sunlight, even though sunblock was not frowned upon, he simply didn't need it nearly as much as the next taint-blood. Only in the dead of night was he at his strongest, but not one soul within the walls of Hogwarts was aware of this condition.

Giving Mr. Lestrange sometime to ease into the swing of things and the nightlife of Knockturn which they both were oddly comfortable with, Joram slipped in through the open door. Feet barely making a noise, chest rising in falling as he sucked in the sickly smell of dilapidated walls and aging witches and wizards. No one in their right mind would look at him twice, but he approached Rodolphus with absolute ease. Joram knew what time he needed to arrive by, and not once had he been late to a meeting with the Lestrange brother as it might mean an end to business within itself.

Hoisting himself up on the bar stool next to the , Joram looked at the barkeeper and ordered a Bloody-Mary, extra bloody. "Bella sera, Rod." Jorrie lifted his hand for the bartender to get another shot of the usual for Rodolphus, all on him. Setting his bag on the counter Joram looked back at the crowd, of the pub taking in the exits and possible hiding places in case anything happened to get too out of hand, or sour. Soon another shot was sitting in front of Rodolphus, as well as a tumbler full a scarlet liquid. Pepper shaker in hand, Jor stirred in the black flakes with his straw. Purple eyes shifting toward Rod and a smug smile across his lips.

Not once since Rodolphus' third year has Joram Mortelle been late to any meeting with this particular Lestrange. The web they created that intertwined within the student body was inescapable by any normal human being. Of course the pair had a little bit of history with each other, how else would someone be able to explain the relationship between Lestrange and Mortelle. Was it the money and power that drove both of them together? Hardly.

Pulling his messenger bag toward him he pulled out two identical bottles from the seemingly endless depths, followed by one longer necked bottle that was clear as crystal. "Yea, yea, 'mother tongue' this, it's not like I'm talking completely in Italian, unless that sort of thing turns you on. In that case..." but Joram didn't follow up with anything. Keeping the bottles closer to himself he looked down, checking to make sure the were of the correct quality. "Wrong bottle, shoddy quality." With that his arm was deep inside the his side pack until his fingers wrapped gingerly around the neck of a different bottle. "Here we are."

Putting the other bottle back into his bag, Joram inspected the color of the brew within. "Much better, Aside from these two I brought you something else, free of charge of course. Let's call it, hmm, well let us call it a gift. For being such a valuable client in my time. It's an Italian alcohol called Grappa, high in alcohol content made from the seeds, stems and peels of only the finest grapes my family has to offer. I think it's mixed with a little bit of pear, it'll give of a sweeter taste on the tongue." With that Joram eyed Rodolphus for a moment before pulling out another bag of sorts that would completely conceal the contents and he began placing each bottle inside and out of sight.

"So, the usual price would be thirteen galleons, but it'll only be ten for today." With that he let go of the discreet package, which was merely the size of a casual wine bag. Any onlookers would only see a small uninteresting black bag to keep is safe. "Other than the usual bargaining and sarcastic comments, you seem like you're doing fairly well." To the both of them it was common banter and he felt rather relaxed, but at the same moment Joram's guard was as high as a kite, reaching out to onlookers, but as he turned his head they normally turned theirs away. It was a great way to keep them from looking over.

Pushing his hair behind his ear, Jor ordered a couple of shots for Rodolphus and himself without second thought. "You know that I cannot say no, not when alcohol is involved." Joram revealed his teeth to his business client and partner. He ran a lucrative business by himself, but when Rod and Jor were together the business was both fruitful and surreptitious, the way they both liked it. "I have no issue with getting you right schnockered." Joram laughed ever so slightly and snapped his head back downing the amber liquid.

Jor crossed his feet at his ankles as he listened to what he would call his 'superior'. "I understand difficult, but yes Rod, you are still loaded and handsome, I don't think anyone would be able to take that away from you, honestly I would pay to watch them try. All bets on you, clearly." His lips pulled back his cheeks even tighter as the smile grew wider and more honest.

Since Joram was a little boy, he's always had high curiosity. There were many times when he could be found waltzing through the family crypts, or pretending to be a grave digger. It wasn't until he turned eleven, he realized exactly what he was. The ability to cloak himself in the shadows of night, and move quickly within them, it was something he found out on his own, but his desire to learn more about what he was came up with loose ends. Every text book he read threw out the explanation that he was a monster and he needed to be controlled. To him this was all myth and also stories that his father used to read him when he was headed to bed.

That didn't change what he thought. Everyday, he had to drink from a bottle of wine full with the sickly sweet scent of the sanguine fluid that filled the flagon. In all truths, he was a monster, just one that happened to have more control over his actions. Lately with the need for cocaine and an obnoxious high, Jor had revealed ever so much that he was something else. Integra knew, but he wasn't sure Rodolphus was exactly ready for such a shocker.

The cheeky grin was still spread across his face. "I don't think you'd want people around these parts to hear your woes either, so, finish up and we can head back to the castle and get hammered. I know a short cut, and you bet your ass I'm going to get everything out of you so you can just relax for five seconds."