Welcome to Gaia! ::

You have this Zee, you are totally fine, and you will absolutely do fine on your first day. He'd been told to show up a couple of hours after sundown, and he was so far on time unless someone had told him the wrong time, which was a worry, he approached the back door and smiled as he scooted into the building. He wasn't sure how he'd been roped into wearing the outfit for work, but he was not going to back out now. He sighed for a moment, popped open a locker in the back, and put his side bag as well as his long coat into the small enclosure. He took a deep steadying breath as he closed the door to the locker.

The change from the worried and somewhat shy-looking vampire was almost instant as he turned around and confidently strolled out the door, his thin mesh top hanging off one shoulder, tempting many as he smiled at the patrons, the hot pants also leaving little to the imagination along with the long legs encased in sensual nylons. His tail gently swayed behind him as he moved to see if there were tables that needed orders filled. He purred cutely as patrons began to shower him with compliments, making sure to keep himself just out of arms reach as he took orders, keeping the list of his first table in mind, he made his way back to the bar, reciting the orders like he'd known the menu by heart for years, "Three lime jello shots, two white Russians, and a double of vodka, no ice, squeeze of lemon." As he waited on the order to be filled, he glanced around, wondering who was around tonight, he spotted the Graverobbers drinking it up and held back the squeak of his fanboy nature. Then spotted a few other faces, including Dym, who he'd seen but not actually spoken to. He watched for a moment as a much shorter vampire seemed to annoy her, but he was pulled back to the drink slinger as his order hit the bartop.

Setting up his tray, he made his way back to the table he'd taken the orders for, walking as though he owned the place, but ensuring he avoided any grabby hands on the way. He was after all, fresh meat, but getting his bearings was something he'd perfected with the jobs he'd taken as a mortal, Just keep smiling, Zee, you'll be fine. Was all he could think to himself as he began serving the table that was more than a little rowdy.

Well, this night was already turning into a total shitfest, and though Odin was reasonably sure he had nobody to blame but himself, he'd still rather blame somebody else.

Setting out from HQ had been fine. As loathe as he was to be following orders from the sheriff of all vampires, this member of the Pound Puppies would at least do whatever their leader, Gramsi, told them to do. And right now? That seemed to be to follow the orders of the blasted sheriff. <******** that Odin didn't particularly like the silvery-haired Brujah Elder, given the fact that he was far too clean and pretty to be trusted, he was also fairly certain that something had gone on between him and Gramsci, and that something, which he did not want to think too deeply about, made his hackles raise and fired up a wave of seething anger deep in the pits of his very being.

Anyways. That didn't matter anymore (except it totally did). Odin was fine (he definitely wasn't). And he would never let something like this get under his skin and completely distract him (HA, he could be distracted by literally anything). He most certainly hadn't let himself fall further and further behind from the group as they made their way to the Sin Bin, and he would never be so stupid as to abandon the group completely to go release some pent-up anger on some total stranger in a nearby alley that he had beaten into a nearly bloody pulp.

Nope. Not Odin. He was a calm and rational boy.

Needless to say, by the time he had arrived at the Sin Bin, Micky, Gramsci, and the rest of the gang had already long disappeared inside. Upon entering the building, he was given a once over, his bloodied knuckles raising some eyebrows, and was ostensibly denied entry because he looked like "a troublemaker."

Luckily, Odin was pretty adept at getting people to relent. All he had to do was explain who he was here with and then follow that up with the song of his people for around 30 seconds before the guy monitoring the entrance relented and decided to let him in.

And so, finally, the late member of the Pound Puppies had arrived. It only took him a moment to figure out where the others were, his keen eyesight and nose doing most of the work for him. Making his way toward the bar, his mismatched eyes honed in on Darling and Snootch near the dancefloor, and he offered the two of them a wicked grin and a wave before he sauntered his way over to the bar itself, giving Biscuit, who was a little ways off, a nod, and offered Ellie a quick wink.

But it was Gramsci who he sidled up next to, noticing that the object of his ire, Micky, was nowhere to be seen.

Good.

"Did I hear you callin' for me?" He grinned, flashing sharp teeth. "Sorry, boss. Got a little sidetracked."