The bellhop was now shaking with fear.  "I ... I don't know, sir!" he blurted, and bolted out the door.

     Jazmine was just coming back into the room and looked after the slamming door.  "What was that all about?  Did you show him your teeth?" she asked.

"I have no idea," replied Drew without looking over his shoulder at Jazmine.  "He seemed to want a tip, then, when I offered him one, he decided he needed to be elsewhere and booked it.  Maybe he ought to have stayed around a little longer.  The tip I would have given him would have been to grow a spine.  If you want something, ask for it," he said, and shrugged a little.  "Speaking of asking for something, any idea where we are going to see the sights?" he asked.

     Jazmine glanced between Dredd and the door suspiciously for a moment.

     "Well, you've never been here and so far seem to have no interest in visiting anything in particular.  I wouldn't mind some fresh air in Central Park, maybe swing by the Metropolitan Museum of Art or the New York Public Library?  Wanna go to the top of the World Trade Center?  Our meeting isn't far from there, and I think the observation deck closes at 9 p.m., so we could do that last," she said pulling up her phone and typing away, likely to search for details.  "It's just you and me, so what do you think?"

Drew responded with a half shrug of his shoulders combined with a slight tilting of his head to indicate his indifference.  "Whatever you say is good to do here, we'll do.  Am I copacetic with ... you know ... the blood situation?" he asked, then had another question for her.  "And this World Trade Centre.  How far across the city can we see from it?"

     Jazmine looked up and peered at him carefully.  "You tell me.  Feeling hungry?  Because if you are, I can get some fresh blood pretty quick.  I called ahead to the New York office and asked that they have a supply handy."

     He did not feel the hunger as badly as he had the day before, but there was a slight twinge when she mentioned blood.

     She then held up her phone, which showed a photo of the city from up high.  "You'll be able to see the whole city, and into a few states."

"Nothing I cannot handle, " he replied, "but I must insist we look into doing something about the whole blood drinking thing.  Though I am not a squeamish person, no one in their right mind wants to drink blood, half vamp or not.  I don't know what Collinsworth can do make it look and, perhaps, taste less like blood, but I'd appreciate it if they could at least try," he said.  In regards to how far they could see from on high, Drew simply nodded his head in acknowledgement.

     "Yes, we are looking into that, as I said.  This Blade character apparently had some kind of serum that would stem his cravings, but I would need a sample to duplicate it," Jazmine said.  She then raised an eyebrow to his suggestion.

     "Change the taste?  Interesting.  I wonder if any kind of flavoring would affect it's 'nutritional' content for you.  That's worth some experimentation.  Maybe we start with some chocolate syrup in your next batch?" she suggested with a grin.

     She strode past him and grabbed her coat, heading back out the door.  "Let me call us an Uber."

The look on Drew's face was one of stoicism.  Not that the humour was lost on him, it was more to do with the fact he thought it in poor taste.  Even his thoughts were doing running puns for him, which made him groan inwardly.  "The sooner we look into that, the better ... but we can do without the off-hand flavourings, thank you," he replied, and waited for the cab by flicking on the TV to see if there was anything interesting on the news.

     The news was talking about a high school shooting that had happened that morning in upstate New York.  Five students were dead, and the killer had shot himself.  It seemed like a cut and dry situation, but then an interview with one of the other students came up.

     "... and Danny thought there were werewolves in the school.  I think he was taking his online gaming a little too far, but he was serious.  I hear his gun was even full of silver bullets.  It wasn't like him.  He was a little odd, but I didn't take him for a killer," a boy with red hair in a sweater vest was saying.  The graphic identified him and 'Tucker Stephenson, Gilroy Graham High School Student.'

     "Damn.  Another one?" Jazmine said, turning away from the TV to her phone.

"Another one" inquired Drew.  "There have been more of these shootings?  And if there have been, did they all involve werewolves or other such beings?" he asked.  This was certainly a turn of events, and thoughts galore were brewing in Drew's mind.

     "There seems to be a school shooting every week in America," Jazmine said, then tilted her head at his additional question.  "Well, no.  They just say that they're mentally unbalanced people with too much access to guns, but what if they did have something to do with the werewolves?  Why would ... What would they have to gain from infiltrating schools?"

Drew shrugged, rather too nonchalantly, if Jazmine cared to notice.  "Far as I recall, it's not only vampires whose dead become undead, if that can be said to the the case here.  Once a person is bitten by a werewolf, don't they change at every full moon or so?  Not that I know their plans for the future, but right there is more numbers for the cause, if you ask me.  Schools are just more breeding grounds," he replied.

     "Undead ... Wow.  This is not a role-playing game.  Vampires and Werewolves are still alive.  And as far as I've learned, Vampirism is like a biological virus, while Werewolves are more like a dominant genetic deformity, for lack of a better term.  But you might not be far off on the 'breeding ground.'  Werewolf knocks up a few teenagers, convinces them to give up the babies ... Might be on to something there," she said.

     Her phone chirped.  "Uber's almost here.  Let's head downstairs."

That was not exactly where Drew was going when he mentioned breeding grounds, but he shrugged and allowed Jazmine her own thoughts.  As for the undead thing, that was new to him.  She could call it that if she wanted to, but to Drew, Vamps are and always will be undead creatures of the night.  As for Werewolves, genetic deformity?  That, and the whole "virus" thing, was like making excuses and justifications for depraved actions.  Drew didn't like it.  Did not like it all, but he shrugged again and followed Jazmine downstairs.

     They got to the curb and a red Toyota was waiting for them.  Jazmine greeted the driver, who introduced himself as Colin, and climbed in the back, urging Drew to follow.  She then confirmed the destination as the World Trade Center.

     "Ah, the good old Freedom Tower," Colin said with a Scottish accent.  "Well, not old, but still.  Truly a marvel to behold.  Ye tourists?"

     "Sort of.  Definitely seeing the sites," Jazmine said.

     "Oh, plenty of those, aye," Colin agreed as they drifted into heavy New York traffic.

     Colin glanced at Drew in the rearview mirror, then seemed to sniff the air and wince.

     "Don't ye worry, I'll get ya there safe and sound," he said.

Drew had not really been paying much attention to ... anything at all, really, but he did note and file away the accent of their driver.  Though he was not a fellow Brit, he was from the United Kingdom and, although the Scots traditionally had no love for the English, this was the modern era in a modern(ish) country, so traditions would probably take a back seat, which was what Drew was doing right now.  He was not going to say anything at all, however, but that sniff from their driver somehow put thoughts into Drew's mind, and he looked at the man with some intent.

"So, you're from Scotland.  Do most of them still hate the English, or have attitudes changed in recent years?" he asked in conversational tones, but he was really trying to gauge the man himself.


[Private to Omni-Tent: 21:20, Today: Dredd Bloodkin rolled 16 using 1d20+5. Insight.]

     "Oy, you're a Brit, aye?  Well, I was a wee babe when I left Scotland.  Father brought us 'eya when the mine closed down.  I play up the accent a bit for the tourists," he said, his accent slowly vanishing.

     The man's words seemed sincere, but he still seemed to be hiding something.  The way he avoided looking at Drew was odd.

Drew nodded and responded to the man.  "And I'm sure they love you for it.  Seems the Americans love an accent.  So, you've lived here almost your entire life, then?" he asked, and in doing so, was looking at the man without making it seem as if he was (looking in the rear-view mirror, checking out the driver's reaction from the reflection in the windows, etc).

     "Oh, aye.  I'm from Albany originally, but I moved down here to work for an IT firm that went belly up after a few years.  Me wife is a nurse and I take care of the kids," he explained.

     The man had a scar on the left side of his face from the corner of one eye and down to his jaw.  He had an otherwise nicely trimmed red beard and shaggy red hair.

"A family man!" Drew stated, though that was abundantly obvious from the driver's statement.  "It's always nice to have family.  Even better when you can take care of them in this day and age," he continued conversationally.  "You ever do anything else besides IT?  I only ask because I always thought you got into IT, you had a job for life, like the old days of making a living."

     The man seemed a little nervous at Drew's constant questions.

     "Drew, leave the man alone," Jazmine said half-heartedly.

     "Odd jobs here and there to make ends meet.  Wife is the breadwinner now.  I just do this to keep from going crazy around the house," the driver responded.  He then seemed to clam up, becoming very focused on his driving.

Drew glanced over at Jazmine, intent on saying something she might regret, but held his tongue for the sake of ... well, whatever there might have been a sake for.  Instead, he simply nodded his head, although whether that was intended as acknowledgement of what Jazmine said or their driver was unclear.  He settled back in his seat and continued to look out of the window, which meant he continued to study the driver in the reflection.

     The car came through an intersection of buildings that revealed a large courtyard dominated by trees and two square sunken fountains with waterfalls along their inner edges.  To the north was an immense glass building tapering up to a point in the sky.

     "There she be.  You wanna get close, or you want off here to go through the memorial?" he asked.

     Jazmine looked a little choked up.  "Here is fine," she said, her voice cracking.  The driver pulled over to the side of the road and finalized the trip.

     "Take care now," he said, turning back in his seat to watch them both leave.  Jazmine climbed out first, staring up at the building with awe, then pulling out her phone for a picture.

Drew noticed Jazmine's reactions, but was not sure if he should ask if she was OK or not.  Might have been something, might have been nothing, and she might not like what she thought of as false sentiment.  She didn't seem like that kind of a person (at least, not that he knew of in the short time he'd known her), but you never knew.  Instead, he waited until she took her pictures, then asked if she was ready to go.

     As Jazmine got a photo of the tall building, the Uber moved off into traffic.  She then got closer to one of the sunken fountains and got another photo of it.



     All around the edge of the fountain was black stone with gold engraved names.  Jazmine gently ran her hand over a few of the names, then looked back up at the tall building nearby.

     "I was in grade school when it happened," she said in barely a whisper.  "A teacher came into the room and told Mrs. Corr to turn on the TV.  We were just thrilled to get to watch TV in school ... Then the second plane hit."