Clubs and Recreations
Troubles were everywhere, no denying that. It was no good reason to ask people to go and get even more. Still, Lilah had a point. They were in troubles, what happened to her club and to those poor guys involved all of them to some extent. Or did she mean something else? Whatever. Splitting hair was annoying, and she could do with some - companionship? Help would have been a more appropriate word. It was a tough one to spit out, though. Nah. She needed someone she could share her thoughts with. And, okay, possibly get some help if that chance was available.

"Poe's Law? I mean, if you're good at telling trolls from real issues then congrats, because I am not. No idea if the garlic accident has anything to do with - what happened later. It looked so demented, and maybe it was just that after all".

And what if it was not? What if it had been an obvious red flag? Something she should have worried about, alerted people, stopped eveything before it was too late? She couldn't turn back time, and even then there was no clear course of action. Maybe it had been just that, a stupid, tasteless, unrelated joke.

She glanced at her phone once again. Troll? Real thing? "Yeah, I'd like to see what's going on. It could be nothing, but I am not in the mood of dismissing anything suspicious, lately... Not that this email is all that enlightening, though. The address is something that looks like a Russian spambot, I doubt it's worth sending a reply. 'Further information will follow'? Whoever is doing this must enjoy some suspense. Anyway, yep!, I do have your number". She checked, just in case: it was there! "I'll make sure that you don't miss the following chapter, whatever it is".
Lilah nodded. Yeah, it's not that easy. But come on, garlic? I can't eat it, and vomiting it back up looks like a horror show... She shook her head. Urgh. It might be totally unrelated, true. It could also be the best hint that's left. She saw those series on the science-y channels sometimes. It could happen.

The whole thing with the email, though, that was ODD. Actually, freaking odd. Hey, it could be fun. Could also be anything BUT fun. Hard to tell up front, though. And if it's nothing, we'll only have wasted a night. If it's fun, nothing wasted. If it's a trap...? Well, 2 out of 3 ain't half bad.
"Well, let's see what happens? If anything happens, I mean". Because her mind was racing. Invitations. Traps. Even well conceived pranks. It could be nothing, however, just an idiotic message with no follow-up. Not even that unlikely when a message came from, you know, a Russian spambot.

"The future of vampiredom". She gave the screen another stare. "If indeed they're not joking, they're taking themselves quite seriously, don't they? I haven't seen vamps taking themselves that seriously since... well, since before I was a vampire myself, which makes my perspective a tad limited anyway...".

The future of vampiredom. She had nothing but the vaguest understanding of how things used to be. She'd been a ghoul, not one of the masters. Her knowledge had been clouded by lies and sheepish adoration (the very memory of it was icky; how could you be that obtusely devoted? That wasn't her, that wasn't real Monica). However, one thing she could tell: vampires used to be all serious business, all enamored with their own importance. All grand plans and puppet-mastering people. They didn't go around asking to sign petitions or making fools of themselves just to be allowed to survive. Although, for what she could remember, those grand old days were full of suck as well, so - what to feel about it? That was a good question, indeed. A question that wasn't going to find an answer that night. She could unlive with that.

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