"Lydia, you should really lighten up. Cats aren't even people! We're being perfectly humanitarian."
"I know that! I'm just calling you Lydia because you look like the chick from Beetlejuice. You're easily the gothiest person at this vampire bar. Apart from the living corpse, maybe."
"Yeah, but she's got the whole... fangs and pallor and inky-black hair, thing going. I knew girls back in junior high who would've killed for that kind of coloration."
"I don't know, I've known a lot of people with your coloration who got it by killing people. It's certainly an option."
"So, Maggie, you mentioned sparkling. And it being pretty. Would it be patronizing and weird to ask you to demonstrate?"
The backyard is currently experiencing its day cycle, says the bar. If that is deemed too risky I could provide a directional ultraviolet lamp for you to borrow.
"Huh," says Maggie. "Right, what do you all say to those options?"
"Hey!"
(The bumpy contingent nods in agreement.)
*This is sarcasm. Intellectual curiosity is not involved in any part of this question.
"I think that the risk alone would bar me entirely from your world. That means I'm either sneaking into Lavinia's world when her door comes back, or I'm going with one or more of the weird triplicate vamps. Though there's no need to pack up just yet, I'm just looking at my options."
"Well, I don't know that that's fair! You could've told her you brought me in and I'd've fucked off to California and not bothered you again. Unless we became pen pals or something."
"I wasn't suggesting that you put me up for a week until I got my feet back! She wouldn't even accept me setting foot on her soil in order to immediately hop off it? It's not like I'd poach on her land, I happen to enjoy not being a pile of dust."
Just "Bar", please. €8.45 for my next suggestion.
Maggie produces euros and gets something fizzy and gold.