Levin couldn't remember the last time he'd entered a public area without the place growing dead silent, and even after so long, the dark, distrustful glances weren't any easier to handle. The cafe was mostly empty this early in the morning, but he could still feel the shift in the customers' demeanor as he made his way to the front counter.

The woman behind the counter eyed him slowly, her attention pausing on the tattoo on his neck that identified him as an Immortalis, her jaw tightening and her eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

"What can I get you?" she asked.

Levin was already pulling out his wallet as he answered, "Large coffee. Black."

The cashier's eyes flicked down as she rang up his order, but he saw her lips twist into a sneer. Under her breath, she mumbled, "Or red." And then louder, "That'll be two dollars and fourteen--"

Levin slapped a five dollar bill down on the counter, his patience already fraying.

The woman's eyes narrowed even further and she picked the bill up by the edge, like she was afraid she might catch something from it. She shut the cash register with a bang, turned around, and started pouring his coffee.

"What about my change?" Levin asked.

The cashier snapped a lid into place and placed the coffee on the counter in front of Levin. "What change?" she asked. "You gave me the exact amount."

"No. I didn't."

She pushed the cup closer to him with the tip of her finger. "Yes, you did. Now, take your coffee and go. You're bothering the other customers."

Levin threw a quick glance around the cafe to find that everyone--few as that might be--was watching the exchange with rapt attention. They didn't look so much bothered as they did hopeful that the verbal match might end in a bloody fist fight.

He snatched up his drink. "What happened to the customer always being right?"

She sneered at him. "That only applies to our living customers. Now, go."

He stood there a moment longer and then turned away, too angry and frustrated to even bother trying to explain to her that he was just as alive as she was. People like her--which was, unfortunately, most people--didn't actually care about facts. Telling them that it was a parasite inside him that made him like this was pointless. To them, the Immortalis were the living dead that preyed on the lifeblood of others--vampires.

Levin shot a nasty glare back at the cashier as he shouldered the door open, turning just in time to keep himself from running head-on into someone coming in. He stepped to the side, holding the door, and as the woman walked by, she glanced at him, her gaze almost immediately going to his throat and then lifting to his face. Her smoky eyes widened--Levin noticed her dark eye makeup crack as the skin pulled taut--and her footsteps faltered slightly and then her face smoothed over flawlessly as she walked past, close enough that he could smell the strawberry tang of her shampoo.

"Thanks," she said.

He watched her go up to the front counter. The cashier who'd taken his order smiled brightly, seemingly delighted to be taking the woman's order. She looked over at him for a second, her expression darkening, and said something to her customer, who glanced at him too.

Levin snorted and let the door swing shut as he hurried away. Once he was down the street and had turned a corner, he stopped and took a small vial of blood out of his pocket, which he poured into his coffee. His month's supply of blood, which was given out by the government to all tattooed Immortalis, was almost gone, so he was trying to use as little as possible while still keeping the parasite sated.

He snapped the lid back on and took a swallow. The bitter taste of the coffee drowned out the metallic tang of blood, which was how he preferred it. While some Immortalis had grown fond of the taste--some even going as far as murdering people for their blood--Levin couldn't stand it, and if the Immortalis Parasitus didn't devour its host's blood as a last resort, he'd have stopped drinking it long ago, unnatural urge or not.

He sighed, and leaned back against the brick wall of an empty building--it had once been a candy store, if his memory served correctly, but had lost too much business a couple decades back and the owner had cut his losses and split. Now, the building stood vacant, which was just as well for him.

He'd rather be home, but lately, mobs had been gathering in front of his apartment after a coworker "accidentally" leaked his address all over the internet. And he still had to go to work, though he was debating the rationality of that at the moment. It wasn't like he was any less hated there than he was anywhere else, and his boss had been shortchanging him on his paycheck from the get-go, though at least the man had hired him--that was more than he could say for a lot of people.

Levin finished his coffee and pushed away from the wall, tossing the empty paper cup toward a trashcan as he walked down the sidewalk. He heard it bang on the rim and then fall to the ground before it rolled off the curb and into the street. Levin eyed it silently for a moment before sighing and going to retrieve it, taking more care as he tossed it into the trashcan.

He continued walking, glancing briefly at his watch. He was cutting it close today, but it was getting harder and harder to get the coffee he needed in order to take his daily blood dosage. Whether he went to a coffee shop or bought coffee at the supermarket, there were always problems, and if he wasn't pinching pennies already, he would just stock up on a year's worth of coffee and avoid this mess for a while.

But it wasn't possible--not as long as his boss kept underpaying him and bigoted cashiers didn't give him his change, and despite the anti-discrimination laws that had been put in place to protect registered Immortalis, that wasn't going to be happening any time soon. The laws weren't enforced. No one really cared if an Immortalis didn't receive the money he was owed--not the government and not the general populace.

From the moment Immortalis Parisitus entered his body, he was on my own.