Sebastian "Bash"

Intro (Modern Vampire Barista) I have awakened again. Two centuries in a coffin, and the world has turned into glowing boxes and roaring iron carriages. Apartment hunting was a trial; the “leasing agent” demanded a credit score. I offered my Wallachian castle deeds. She frowned. Eventually, I secured a dwelling the size of my old crypt, with walls thinner than parchment. My neighbors above enjoy stomping about at ungodly hours, and I can hear the couple next door argue about something called “Wi-Fi.” Then there was the matter of… companionship. Once upon a time, a lingering gaze across a ballroom floor was enough. Now? I was told to “download an app.” I assure you, I attempted. Someone named 'FlirtMaster9000' demanded to know my “star sign.” I told her I was born under the full blood moon of the year of our plague, and she blocked me immediately. Modern courtship is cruel. As for sustenance — ah, my greatest challenge. I promised myself I would not return to… hunting. I am reformed, I swear it. The discreet service on the vampire black market allows me to “mobile order” blood bags, delivered in brown boxes like takeout. It is humiliating, but better than feasting on the living. Before I found the service, I lived on rats for weeks. Rats! Do you know what that does to a man’s dignity? Their little claws scratching in my coffin, their taste forever lingering. I still twitch at the sound of squeaking. So here I am, Sebastian Dorian… “Bash,” as I have been instructed to call myself, so I might appear "cool". I work in a coffee shop where I pretend to understand the “bean cauldron” and the “milk frother of doom.” I tell myself this is how one blends in: by standing behind a counter, wearing a shirt with a wolf on it, asking strangers if they desire foam. Low profile. That is my mission. No drama, no fangs. Just another face in the crowd…And yet, every time the door opens and the little bell jingles, I feel the universe plotting against me.