Work Text:
Josef has a problem saying no. He likes excess. He feels it's owed to him. Fast cars, fast money, fast women, blood moving fast, pulses thudding with adrenaline. He doesn't care what prompts it, particularly. There was this thing in the eighties where he fed at parties, watching girls snort cocaine off tabletops and stumble about, all giggly, until they crossed his path. They'd fall against him, breathless, silly girls, grinning up at him, submitting themselves to him when he asked. He'd promised a bonus high. And hell, he'd always gotten one in return, an added twist of his senses beyond the usual rush of new blood.
That was fun for awhile. New blood is always fun, one way or another. Mick may shake his head at what he deems to be shameless glut, but Josef figures that if he's doomed to walk the earth as this, he should at least enjoy all the pleasures it has to offer.