"Niko Bellic." He shifted to rest his arm against the bar, having a look around to see who Dorian's sort of clientelle were so far. The atmosphere looked like it'd be pretty good to meet with some people at. And the music was loud enough that one had to be relatively close to someone for conversation.

Though a vampire? A vampire he didn't yet suspect. His accent betrayed him as a man from the Balkans and anyone worth their salt that grew up in the Balkan countryside knew vampire stories. Of course, they were less intense once humans became each other's worst enemy there, but he did remember the ones that his mother told him when he was little. The military took the belief in such things (and anything fantastic, good or bad) right out of him. Dead people stayed dead.

But here he was around aliens, around people that could "heal", perform spells, and it never occurred to him that this man might be anything else but his own breed.