He'd checked to see that the alleyway was otherwise deserted, well-practised at picking out the barest movement in the shadows. Once he'd assured himself there was no one around, he leant back on the brick wall to wait.
The footsteps and call of his name - well, the name, not his - revived him at once from his stillness, and with another grin he beckoned Kieran over, grasping him lightly by the arm to steer him into an alcove that would see them securely out of view, even were someone to wander by. If there were a next time to this, perhaps he would procure Kieran's address from him and show up there, if he could expect an invitation - but for a first time's sake, there was no sense in letting anyone take him home; putting the boy back in his comfort zone was a surefire way to illuminate this as a bad decision.
And it wasn't all that bad a decision, Ishmael considered, if he had come outside willingly. He suspected the money had done most of the work - but he wouldn't take that personally. Standing in front of him - closer than they had been across the table - he surveyed the young man for a moment, curious about how au fait Kieran was about what he had agreed to.
"My turn to drink, then," Ishmael said, still smiling cheerfully. "I'm very good," he continued, as casual and as in-control of the situation as he could be so that it was clear he'd done this a hundred times before, and knew how to stop himself. "It'll only be a pint or so, I promise -" he explained, more for the play on words than anything else, poor Kieran getting to pay him back for the pint in turn, "- and I'll be discreet. From wherever you like." He tapped just above Kieran's collarbone and then at his forearm as examples of places he could drink from that would cover the bite-marks and bruising under clothes, lest this stranger have overbearing good influences in his life who might object to vampire bites all over his neck. Look at how considerate he was! He'd even let the boy choose.
The footsteps and call of his name - well, the name, not his - revived him at once from his stillness, and with another grin he beckoned Kieran over, grasping him lightly by the arm to steer him into an alcove that would see them securely out of view, even were someone to wander by. If there were a next time to this, perhaps he would procure Kieran's address from him and show up there, if he could expect an invitation - but for a first time's sake, there was no sense in letting anyone take him home; putting the boy back in his comfort zone was a surefire way to illuminate this as a bad decision.
And it wasn't all that bad a decision, Ishmael considered, if he had come outside willingly. He suspected the money had done most of the work - but he wouldn't take that personally. Standing in front of him - closer than they had been across the table - he surveyed the young man for a moment, curious about how au fait Kieran was about what he had agreed to.
"My turn to drink, then," Ishmael said, still smiling cheerfully. "I'm very good," he continued, as casual and as in-control of the situation as he could be so that it was clear he'd done this a hundred times before, and knew how to stop himself. "It'll only be a pint or so, I promise -" he explained, more for the play on words than anything else, poor Kieran getting to pay him back for the pint in turn, "- and I'll be discreet. From wherever you like." He tapped just above Kieran's collarbone and then at his forearm as examples of places he could drink from that would cover the bite-marks and bruising under clothes, lest this stranger have overbearing good influences in his life who might object to vampire bites all over his neck. Look at how considerate he was! He'd even let the boy choose.
