The club was sweltering hot with the cluster of bodies packed into it, churning against one another like a shifting, ebbing tide. It was easy to lose yourself in a place like this, but Locus doesn't plan to lose himself entirely.

He has his eyes on his fledgling, moving amongst the dancers and club-goers. York has to learn to feed, to sustain himself without killing, and the first step is the trickiest. Coaxing someone out of the herd to surrender to them.

York has several things working in his favor. He has a guileless face, good looks, and an effortless sort of charm that disarms at a glance. Will it be enough to secure him a meal for the night? He'll have to observe closely and see how this goes...