Usually he just picked out a victim in a bar and followed it until they were alone and attacked. Usually he didn't care about age (as long as they didn't classify as children any more) or gender. He had never developed any preferences like so many of his kind did. When you get old enough to survive for months on one kill you tend to get picky. He never did. He hunted for the kill and it didn't matter who he got, as long as he was successful. The fresh blood never tasted sweeter to him if he killed a young woman, or someone who could be considered special for some other reason. To him the sweetest blood was the one from people who did not suspect a thing until his teeth were already biting deep into their flesh.
This cold evening in November promised to be no exception from his regular hunting days. He had left the place he currently stayed at, a few hours after nightfall and roamed the streets for a while, until he came across a small bar, he had never been to and that promised to cont