The streets of New York at night were fascinating. Thousands of people were up, walking about, each the result of innumerable choices. It was child's play for kindred to hide within these masses. Usually, their presence was a sort of comfort to Jeremy. He was used to people, to them being around. Just sitting and watching provided solace, usually.
But not tonight.
Tonight, he was not idly watching for curiousity's sake. Tonight, he was hunting.
And it was for an unprecedented reason, too. Usually, he went on the prowl because he was very hungry. Drinking blood was still an act he was not entirely comfortable with. One of the reasons he took up an interest in the Coils of Blood was to reduce the necessity for feeding. (The other one was to reduce the necessity for breaks in his work.)
However, this time, things were different. This time, he was out to hunt for the sake of hunting itself.
Being a Gangrel encompasses many things. Among them, the fact that Gangrel are closer to their Beasts than other Kindred.
For two nights, the Dragon had followed someon until he could have fed, but stopped before he engaged his prey. The acticity roused his Beast, and increasingly, he grew more and more attuned to it.
This time, he wanted to experience all of the thrill, and to do so, he picked out a semi-public area.
Somewhere you could easily disappear into an alley. Usually, this took place around here so people could exchange money for drugs.
And a high is what Jeremy offered, after all. He wore ill-fitting jeans and a too-large-hoodie, to fit in better with the crowd or at least draw less attention than in his brown suit or lab coat.
Jeremy waited. Patiently. Making sweet promises of blood to his Beast. Smiling.