The floor-to-ceiling windows let in the dying light of the parisian day, and Jared made only a perfunctory attempt at modesty-- certainly those in neighbor towers might have been able to see into his large suite, but the thought didn't even occur to him.
The hotel he was set up in for the week was on the sixteenth floor, giving an expansive view of the city stretched out below. His family being a continent away was a balm to his restless nature, and if there was one place that you could be said to shrug off all of your cares... Paris.
His room was, in a word, plush, and he luxuriated in the feeling of the thick carpet beneath his bare feet. If not for the silken softness of his bed, he could have just as easily slept on the ground. Not that he would, however pleasing it would have been. For his brief vacation, his luggage was minimal, just the boxy frames of his rolling luggage, all five of them stacked away neatly in the corner by a helpful attendant. With his clothing unpacked into the large dresser, he crossed his legs and let his hair dry naturally from the shower.
With night coming on, it was a golden opportunity to explore the local - and exotic - club scene. No self respecting person of wealth or taste would admit to having an unfamiliarity with anything french, but he couldn't credit himself as having a lick of french to him, as they said. Many years, and more tutors, had failed to give him that linguistic skill. Speaking five other languages never quite made up for that deficit in his dear mother's eyes. Disappointing parents could be a plausible passtime for youth of any generation.
Many would have been overwhelmed by the variety of choices for evening wear that he brought with him, but if there was one thing his mother had instilled in him, was a keen sense of fashion. For the supernatural, dive bars outnumbered any place with class by an order of magnitude, but there was a local place that came highly recommended to those with a sense of grace, He planned on getting smashed. Combing his dark shoulder length hair took more time than getting his tailored - and yet, casual - suit. Jared actually hesitated before putting his watch on, the wisdom of wearing his watch, or his families ring, proved tenuous at best, but he felt it completed his look. That's what was important.
No matter how high class your building was, an elevator took time to travel down sixteen floors, so he took the time to breath deeply. In many ways, his exquisite clothing was just another in a long list of potential armors against others and the world outside of his control. If anything, that was an abnormality in his family that he cared as little about controlling the outside world as he did.
His cab driver to the club was amiable enough, chatting companionably in Italian, and suggesting several places that Jared kept in mind for later visitation.
Jared had no issue getting inside the club, Le sous-sol's clientele was exclusive enough to keep out the poorer of the supernatural community, but its doors were open to anyone else. Anyone except normal humans, that was. The light inside was subdued, the music foreign - and french - to him, and the natural flow of bodies brought him to the bar quicker than he would have liked. Getting smashed? Absolutely on the menu, being able to read the actual menu behind the three bartenders? Not a chance. Despite his best efforts, Jared looked a little lost, as he briefly fended off the bartender's french inquiry.
