Vampire The Masquerade RPG
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The Times
The Kindred Chronicle
Key Figures
THE MONSTER OF EALING
Last night, several people reported the sighting of a "screaming red monster" in a quiet neighbourhood of Ealing. After a power shortage in the area, a building caught fire. It was then when, what was described as a "man shaped, footless creature" emerged from the flames, leaping, running, and screaming. One woman has told our reporters that the man had "teeth like a wolf, and the face of the devil". Police officers are still trying to get to the bottom of this; neither the power shortage nor the fire have still been explained. A spokesperson from Scotland Yard has stated that the "so called monster" might be a wounded person, escaping the fire.

TRAGEDY IN TOOLEY STREET
The police has found the bodies of three TFL workers in the construction site at Tooley Street. One of their colleagues raised the alarms last week, when the three workers didn't attend their shifts. The bodies of the men have been found in a deep hole, uncovered by the refurbishment works that are taking place in the area. According to the Police, the bodies were horribly mutilated, which has led to the wildest speculations. The names of the three workers are being kept anonymous, following the wishes of their families.

HOROSCOPE
MARCH 8 - PISCES
You are used to making sacrifices, to prioritising the happiness of others before yours. Even though that is a noble attitude, there are times in life where the only healthy alternative is to embrace your own selfishness and allow yourself some enjoyment. Reserve one hour per day to do something you really like. Treat yourself! Your colour for this month is blue.
Echoes from the past ring back into London. Their intensity increases until they are deafening. What once was a faded memory of a glorious time, now becomes a shocking reality. The consequences of actions taken decades ago ripple into the present, altering the lives of everybody in the City. Unguided and blind, Kindred wander around, trying to make profit out of the reigning chaos.


The appearance of four mysterious figures turned the city upside down. Mistrust and jealousy became the official currency of London. Serpents and fiends rise to power, misdirecting the blaming eyes of the Camarilla towards imaginary enemies. Only those with clear vision and the ability to trust each other strive, while the rest run towards a shallow grave.



Across The Board
Current Chronicle: Dragons and Lions; Pride and Fire
Current Season: Spring
Controlling Sect: Camarilla



Index
Getting Started
General Information
Central London
North London
East London
West London
South London
Miscellaneous
Out of Character


Population: 31

Camarilla
Anarchs
Other
Ventrue: 1
Toreador: 5 (6)
Brujah: 2 (3)
Malkavian: 7
Tremere: 2
Nosferatu: 3
Gangrel: 1
Ventrue: 1
Toreador: 0
Brujah: 2 (3)
Malkavian: 0
Nosferatu: 1
Gangrel: 1
Setites: 5
Sabbat: ???


THE CAMARILLA

Prince

Nobody

Sheriff
Meredith Furlong
Hounds
Robyne Sheridan
Rosella Marie Allain


Keeper of Elysium
Davvad Bisset

Grand Harpy
Catherine Wilke

Primogen
Ventrue: Marcus Antonio Russo
Brujah: Thomas Krusen
Gangrel: Alexa Mallik
Malkavian: Ellora Reese
Tremere: Hannah Sundling
Toreador: Arsenio Pozzi
Nosferatu: Dogan Khojak



ANARCHS

Baron

Khoza

Baronets
Enfield: Leslie
Haringey & Barnet: Clarice Harris
Harrow: Jelena Korolenko

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Welcome To The Night

You find yourself in London on a dreary, foggy night like any other. But what lurks in the shadows is the stuff of fantasies and nightmares, far from mortal reality.

This game uses the cursed and immortal vampiric condition as a backdrop to explore themes of morality, depravity, the human condition, salvation, and personal horror. We are a writing and roleplaying community dedicated to telling complex and engaging stories.

Your fate is your own. Mingle among the ivory-tower elite in the Camarilla, join the fight of the discontented and chaotic Anarch rabble, or set out independently and attempt to survive in London's nighttime underworld. Anything is possible in our World of Darkness.

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Kicking Around at Midnight; Roxy
Topic Started: Saturday, 13. April 2013, 21:33 (536 Views)
Vincent Tadeu
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Garbage Man
* *
Enfield was quiet; uncharacteristically so these days, since the threat of violence had started to hang thick in the air the whole Borough had been awash with activity as Anarchs and their mortal servitors moved heat about and prepared for the inevitable. Vinnie was seeing to business tonight; some punk street gang had stiffed one of his dealers and held up some others, he needed to lay down the law and explain to these fucking kids just why it was that you don't piss off Mr Tadeu and his associates. He had a Makarov in his back waistband and a heavy metal bar in his hand, more than enough to kick the seven shades of hell out of this street gang - just to stop it from looking unusual that one guy could beat on around five guys alone Terrence was with him too, armed the same as Vinnie. His temper was high, the gang, which called themselves the Mad Dogs had been downright disrespectful and what was more the dealer they'd offed had been a good friend and a stand up guy; a few steps away from being made and now he was dead.

Vinnie's intel told him that the Mad Dogs were hanging around in a back alley near some fake Irish Pub called Jimmy's; Jimmy's even the name stank of fake Paddy which was something Vinnie hated. The thought of being in this touristy shit, poser neighbourhood did nothing to improve his mood; Terrence as a result was getting skittish, Vinnie was a stereotypical Brujah neonate and the perfect example of what happens when a violent personality raises high in the ranks of the mob. Terrence was Vinnie's ghoul and his best friend, he was also his second in command and chief enforcer, of everyone on Earth Terrence knew Vincent the best; when he got skittish that was when it was time to start shitting your pants.

Rounding the corner of the alley Vincent spotted a group of five or six kids, probably no older than twenty; there was enough leather and black denim to deck out a Metallica gig on them and plenty of metalhead poser shit between them. Stupid looking lank long hair combined with an absolute lack of personal hygiene or style made the whole lot of them look pathetic; metal was supposed to be a raw expression of passion, the only thing these stupid fucks were expressing was how easy it was to embarrass yourself. When they noticed Vincent eyeballing them they turned and started to draw themselves up in the typical juvenile 'come at me bro' stance. "Hey shithead, what the fuck are you looking at?" Came a shout from a stocky looking fuckface at the front of the group.

"Are you the Mad Dogs." Growled Vincent, his grip on the metal bar tightening until his fingers left indentations on it, "Yeah, who the fuck are you?" The confirmation was all Vinnie needed, with a burst of supernatural speed he slammed the bar into the stocky kid's stomach, effectively folding the poor fuck in two around the bar; "You assfucks stiffed my man McLaughlin last night, now he was a real stand up guy and you pissheads offed him and tried what I can only assume was meant to be a Colombian Necktie...you should have known better!" With a second strike he beat the reeling kid over the head, sending him sprawling back and slumping motionless against the floor; the rest of his 'gang' backed of, clearly shitting themselves at the sight of some dead eyed black fucker with more muscle tone showing through his thick denim than they had collectively underneath theirs. "Now you have choice; unlike your friend here who is fucking dead either way, you can run and die or you can stay here and take the beating of your life. Two choices 'Mod Dogs' make 'em quick." He finished by pulling the Makarov from his waistband, with its hastily attacked homemade suppressor attached and putting a bullet in the prone ganger's head.

Fifteen minutes later there were two corpses and four unconscious gangers left in the alleyway; one of the Mad Dogs had tried to fight back, so Vinnie had beaten the kid to death with his bare hands in front of his friends while Terrence held them at gunpoint. Needless to say the rest had chosen to stay and take the beating intended for them; after tonight Vinnie very much doubted that he'd hear from the Mad Dogs again and if he did, well God help them. As he reached the end of the alley he lit himself one of his cigarillos and dumped the Makarov, sans suppressor, in a large waste bin and leant against the wall of the building next to Terrence.

"I want you to make sure that if they start operating again they buy it. You feel me man?"
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Roxanne
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Roxy's sneakers scuffed over the pavement as she walked aimlessly, humming quietly to herself, lost in thought. London wasn't a place she'd called home in quite some time, but it was still familiar. She hadn't come back since her embrace. The very thought of venturing farther South than the Thames sent a shudder down her spine, let alone returning to her mortal home. Her lips pursed as she recalled what was left of her aunt. Wrinkles, liver spots, bones practically creaking with the effort of movement. Roxy had hoped that seeing her again would provide closure, but there had been none. Only the memories of that blue closet door shutting and the click of a lock. When the old woman had reached for her, claiming she looked like someone she knew, Roxy fled. There would be no more visits to her past.

Forcing her thoughts to turn, Roxy pondered on how she should approach life here. If rumours were true, quite a lot of excitement was underfoot. Whispers of a war. What a potential mess. She needed to meet the Baron of course. Feisty little thing, if Malachi was to be trusted. But there was a proper way to go about things. She simply couldn't waltz in and introduce herself. Well, she supposed some would, but Roxy was anything but rude.

Stopping briefly to stoop down and pick up some litter and deposit it into a nearby trashcan, Roxy realized that she'd wandered much farther than intended. It was still relatively early into the night and the stores along the street were still open. Chewing on her bottom lip she decided that she didn't want to play dodge the pedestrian whilst her mind was so occupied. Turning down a side street and cutting through some alleyways Roxy contemplated how to approach the Baron. As she rounded a corner to pass behind a pub she stopped dead in her tracks. "Oh dear..."

Roxy's eyes darted over the scene before her. What. A. Mess. Six bodies lay prone on the ground, two very obviously dead. She grimaced as she didn't have all the supplies necessary for that amount of blood, but shifted her backpack off her shoulders as she continued to survey the disarray. Splatter on the alley walls as well as the ground, puddling under a particularly stocky individual who had been shot in the head. As Roxy unzipped her backpack and fished out her gloves to take a closer look for the eventuality of having to find bullet fragments she finally realized that she was not alone.

Two men were staring at her quizzically at the other end of the alley, one with a small cigar hanging from his lip. She watched as the ash fell from the tip down to the ground. What a horrible dirty habit. Her compulsion to make order of this mayhem of bodies and blood fought with her ingrained politeness. Compromise. As she pulled a spray bottle and cloth out of her backpack she put on her sweetest smile. "Don't mind me gentlemen, but in lieu of a proper introduction I'll simply say that my name is Roxanne Pendergast and this just will not do." She sprayed as she spoke, starting from the highest splatter on the wall, her gloved hands a flurry as she began to remove the filth.
"I will not let anyone walk through my mind with their dirty feet." - Mahatma Gandhi
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Vincent Tadeu
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The hell was this? He was just starting to wind down and relax after having been sprung tight for the last few hours and now this...this woman was here like some insane cleaning lady mopping up the blood and introducing herself to him. He pushed himself off the wall and took a long drag from the cigarillo in his mouth and turned the corner to look at the crazy chick more closely; who the fuck carried a spray gun and cleaning materials around the place with them like they were a picnic? It just didn't make sense to him, unless she was some kind of kink, or maybe a mobster herself, but then why would she be randomly cleaning up the place?

"Yo pinto louco, the mess is part of the point." Vincent looked down the length of his cigarillo at the woman who was knelt over the rapidly cooling bloodstains, "Its about sending a message; you feel me? Can't have no-one messing with the Baron's shit. So why don't you leave this for the police to clean up." He finished, folding his arms over his chest, his shirt and jacket had spots of blood on them here and there, which meant they'd need to be burned later; it gave him an altogether intimidating appearance.
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Roxanne
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Roxy scowled inwardly. Crazy though she might be, she didn't need for it to be pointed out to her. More importantly, the mess was part of the point? What point? That.. that.. you can just leave blood and bodies strewn about as you pleased? A message that you're a messy sect? Not all Anarchs had to be dirty. If anyone was proof, it was Roxy. She carefully shifted an unconscious, and incredibly grungy looking man so she could scrub the blood that was pooling underneath him from a rather nasty looking laceration to his forehead.

At the mention of the Baron her head shot up, her curls flying around her face, and she looked at him closely. "The Baron? As in, Nora Penvellyn?" It took a considerable amount of willpower, burning more blood than she cared to admit, to still her hands and stand up. Slight tremors actually wracked her frame as she gritted her teeth and forced her eyes to not lower to the blood still splattering everything. Her eyes lingered on the bloodstains on his clothes before flitting up to his eyes, her head cocking to the side as she took in the cloudyness of the one. "I don't intend to intrude on the Baron's business. In fact, I was hoping to get the pleasure of her acquaintance soon. I recently moved back to London after a long absence and want to.. check in, as it were."

Roxy fidgeted as she fought the urge to clean, involuntary spraying every few seconds over the area, her other gloved hand fisted tightly over the now bloodstained cloth. She would either have to leave the area, quickly, or clean. The very knowledge of all that blood slowly drying on the ground made her want to scream.
Edited by Roxanne, Sunday, 14. April 2013, 17:21.
"I will not let anyone walk through my mind with their dirty feet." - Mahatma Gandhi
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Vincent Tadeu
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Who the hell was this chick? Was she for real; with her spray bottle and cleaning cloth in the middle of a dank London backalley? He'd met his fair share of cleaners but none of them used this sort of stuff and he'd not called for anyone to collect this particular pile of human trash; he was slowly starting to get over his incredulity at the situation now and the mention of Nora's name snapped him back. In London these days the Baron meant one of two things; if you were kindred then it referred to Nora, if you were in the mob it referred to Vinnie's business in general. That was no coincidence, Vinnie more or less worked for Nora now so his business was bound in hers. Judging by her knowledge of the name this one was one of their kind, but whether she was a 'Narch or not was a different matter.

He stepped back into the alley and towards this Roxanne Pendergast, "How do you know that name? What's your business with Ms Penvellyn?" He shot in an accusing tone; he'd drawn himself up to fully height now and Terrence was behind him, clearly a little perturbed by his boss' fresh bout of anger; "You should know it ain't a good idea to go throwing that name around, especially when you've walked in on my business like you have." He motioned to the bodies that lay about the alley with the metal bar in his hand, "This, this is a message to my enemies not to piss me off, you feel me?"
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Roxanne
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Closing her eyes tightly and mustering up all the remaining politeness she had to offer, Roxy slowly forced her body to relax enough to take a step away from the bodies on the ground. She calmly placed the spray bottle into her backpack and slipped the bloodied cloth into a plastic bag and then into her backpack as well, zipping it closed with shaking fingers. "As you apparently have a great need for this.. chaos to remain as it is, I must request that we move this conversation elsewhere." She took a few purposeful strides around the bodies towards the two men, entirely driven by her desire to either flee or clean.

Taking a few deep false breaths she steeled herself and stood at her full height of 5'4'', brushing her curls out of her face."As to how I know that name, unless you'd like my life story I would believe the words Kindred and Anarch should suffice. I meant what I said that never intended to intrude on the Baron's or your business." She grimaced and forced herself to not turn and look at the scene behind her. "I need to meet the Baron. I also need to not be.. here."

Edited by Roxanne, Tuesday, 16. April 2013, 01:33.
"I will not let anyone walk through my mind with their dirty feet." - Mahatma Gandhi
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Vincent Tadeu
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Vincent took a deep drag on his cigarillo drawing the embers steadily up its length until more than half the original length was ashes and then exhaled the thick smoke, tapping the ashes into a trash can beside him. Well she was definitely for real, no doubt about it, she knew the right words to convince him she was one of his kind; but he'd reserve judgement for now on whether she could be trusted entirely; switching his gaze over to Terrence swiftly he raised an eyebrow in a silent question, his friend just shrugged, he was just a ghoul after all and this went way above his level. Vinnie flicked the burnt out cigarillo into the trash can without finishing it and turned away from Roxanne, motioning softly with his hand that she should follow.

"Let me guess, you're a kook right?" It was a stab in the dark, but a partially informed one at least; observing her behaviour he could tell something was...cracked in her mind; now that didn't necessarily mean she was Malkavian, after all Vinnie was a paranoid head case himself, but it was a start; besides, he'd never met a Brujah willing to act the cleaning lady, the Ventrue would never do their own tidying up unless they had to and the Toreador? Too squeamish in his experience; "Lucky for you that you ran across me first if you really are an Anarch. Things are pretty much at boiling point and there aren't many places safe for us left in London. I'm Vincent Tadeu, but everyone calls me Vinnie and I'm going to decide whether or not you get to meet the Baron."
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Roxanne
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Roxy watched as he took a long drag, eying the ashes as they grew. She knew that if they fell she would lose the very strenuous hold on her control and start cleaning again. Hell, she'd probably attempt to catch them before they hit the ground. But, with a weak smile and a tiny nod of approval she noted that he let them fall into the waste bin beside him. She idly wondered in he did it for her benefit. Chewing on the inside of her bottom lip she noticed the small exchange between him and the other man, pondering who they both were. As he tossed the remainder of his small cigar into the trash can and started to turn away she opened her mouth to ask him just that.. who were they, but at his motioning to follow all she could do was let out an audible sigh of relief. Escape. The mess would remain but she did not have to stay close enough to see or smell it.

She followed at a reasonable distance, raising an eyebrow at his kook comment. Roxy had gotten that a majority of her kindred life. Being a Malkavian came with a small amount of stigma. Mental illness was always such a charming topic, no matter if you were dead or alive. She listened closely as he spoke of the unrest in London and introduced himself. So the rumours were true then? What lovely timing. "I'm pleased to meet you Vinnie, even if it was in an.. unconventional way." She gave a puddle a wide berth and clasped her hands together in front of her, fingers fidgeting.

"As I said before, my name is Roxanne Pendergast. Most people call me Roxy, so please feel free to do so as well." She gave a bright smile, her mood lifting considerably as they left behind the scene in the alleyway behind the pub. "In response to your.. kook comment, I'm a Malkavian, yes. And though I am glad to have met you and your.. associate.. I assure you that I can handle myself quite well should I have ran across Sabbat." Roxy grinned, feeling the weight of the Jericho in the wasitband at her back and the two switchblades in her pockets. Awful mess makers though they were, they served a purpose. Breaking necks was preferable.. if violence was ever necessary. But she also liked the distance a gun provided. "How is it that you know Ms. Penvellyn, if you don't mind me asking?"
"I will not let anyone walk through my mind with their dirty feet." - Mahatma Gandhi
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Vincent Tadeu
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The street he walked into was fairly well lit, the damp glistening of the rain which had fallen over the pavement and tarmac reflecting it up in an orange glare somewhat. It was cold and breezy, now that the rain had stopped they actually had a chance to notice it; Vinnie picked up his jacket from where he'd left it on the front of a car and put it on, more to hide the blood staining his shirt than to keep the chill out. He didn't stop, just kept walking, listing to Roxy as she confirmed his suspicions and went on to start asking questions; man he wished he had another cigarillo, he could use the distraction and despite the fact that it had no effect on him physically, mentally he found it gave him a sense of clarity.

"I got her out of a tight spot once or twice and now I more or less work for her." Stuffing his hands into his pockets he walked on and enjoyed the lingering taste of the fine tobacco in his mouth; he started on his way to the Tripper, it was the best place to take the new people in town, the centre of Anarch activity; besides if this kook turned out to be rotten then he didn't want to be the one bringing her into the Dream where all the incriminating shit could be found, "Nine times out of ten if our Baron needs something doing its me that does it; jack of all trades so to speak, besides it keeps me from causing too much trouble."

"You'll have to excuse me if I remain skeptical about your ability to hold your own on Sabbat turf; they come down like a tonne of bricks, I mean it, way back when it took three of us just to get away from a pack and things ain't got much better since then."
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Roxanne
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Walking swiftly around another small puddle in the hopes of keeping the bottoms of her jeans dry, Roxy came almost alongside Vinnie, but still at distance to insure her bubble remained unpopped. She studied him in a subtle manner. He seemed a roughened sort of individual. Lean muscle and hardened expression. What a life he must have led. Full of adventure. Even dealing with the set back of a necessity for cleanliness and her extreme fear of being touched, Roxy always enjoyed an adventure. She bit back the desire to ask what had happened to his eye. That was not a polite question to ask someone you've just met. Pulling her jacket tighter around her she let the next query pop out of her mouth unheeded. "And what sort of trouble do you get into, Mr. Tadeu?"

Roxy bit her lip hard, knowing that it was most certainly not her business what this man did in his leisure time. Rather careless on her part.. I do hope my social skills have not become so lacking... She pursed her lips before speaking again. "If you were not skeptical of me or my abilities I would question your judgement. I certainly don't appear to be the kind of individual who would fair well against most others in combat." She motioned vaguely at herself as she said this, short petite little thing that she was. Her Nikes, designer fitted jeans and pink rain jacket surely weren't the attire for a seasoned warrior. "But I have necessities that lead towards a desire to be.. well equipped to keep others at bay. And I'm not ashamed to flight, should fight not be the best option. I'm quite good at evasion." Giving an almost sad smile she idly wondered where it was they were going.
"I will not let anyone walk through my mind with their dirty feet." - Mahatma Gandhi
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Vincent Tadeu
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"Trouble? My work only ends in trouble if I get caught, and if I get caught I probably ain't doing my job right." He shrugged, continuing to walk on ahead down the damp street; his desire for another cigarillo was growing more and more, damn he wished he'd rolled another one - but then he supposed he'd not expected to be hung up like this. It wasn't that he had an addiction or anything, but the steady act of smoking helped shore up his nerves; he needed that now, confronted by a self proclaimed Anarch who was a Malkavian to boot, it was stressful especially since she'd walked in on his business. "Evasion huh? Yeah I guess we all gotta choose the fight or flight scenario sooner or later; sounds like you've got some experience at both, but we'll see. If you come with me to the Tripper I'll see if we can't get you introduced to Nora. That way she can make up her own mind."

The Tripper was the better place to take Roxy given the circumstances; it wasn't exactly a secret that it was the Anarch stronghold and hangout spot in Enfield and as he'd already considered most of the incriminating shit was at the Dream. Well...the Box might be seen as incriminating but at least the only military grade crap down there was three tonnes of angry Russian, but that was a different kind of incriminating. Vasili was the kind of weapon that the Anarchs wanted people to know they had at their disposal, no-one expected them to be packing AKs and the element of surprise was what gave them strength more than anything; but Vasili wasn't like that, he was the deterrent. The Anarch nuke. Plus the fact that he lived under the Tripper made it a much safer place to bring newcomers to meet Nora; he was just a shout away.

"Gotta warn you though, be polite; we might be Anarchs so kissing ass ain't expected, but good manners make the world go round." He looked back over his shoulder as he strode on and continued, "Nora's earned her position and the respect of London's 'Narchs; they don't take too kindly to watching her be disrespected."
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Roxanne
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Roxy stared at Vinnie's shoulder, a small string hanging from the seam of his jacket hung several centimeters, obviously taunting her. His words were drowned out, lost in the breeze as she bit down hard on her bottom lip, drawing blood. She started to shift her backpack off her shoulders, thinking of the pair of scissors in the front pocket when she paused. She knew, without a doubt, that coming towards this man with a pair of scissors, even if with the innocent intent to relieve him of a wayward and irritating string, would be not only be rude but potentially considered threatening. Swallowing down her rising irrational hysteria she resolutely shouldered her backpack once more and forced herself to listen to what he was saying, looking anywhere but at him and that damned string.

"I'll be happy to accompany you Vinnie. But what, may I ask, is the Tripper?" Warring with her desire to look at a person when she spoke with them and the knowledge of the string, Roxy started to fidget with her hair, attempting to make her curls assimilate some sort of order. Her eyes caught a discarded beer bottle across the street and without thought she darted quickly over to snatch it up and place it into a trash receptacle before gracefully running back over to where Vinnie was. "My apologies, gentlemen."

Staring down at her hands Roxy walked quietly on, chewing on her bottom lip once more. At Vinnie's warning to be polite she bristled, lifting her slightly narrowed eyes to meet his. Running over the brief conversation she'd had with this man, she recalled nothing but good manners on her part. Roxanne Pendergast was not disrespectful. She prided herself on being continually polite to everyone, and the instances where she wasn't were entirely understandable. She stopped suddenly, needing her standpoint to be understood. "Mr. Tadeu, I am always polite. I don't.. kiss ass, as it were, but me being disrespectful is not something you ever need worry about." Eying his jacket as she started to walk again she swiftly added, "Also: There's a string hanging from the right shoulder of your jacket."
"I will not let anyone walk through my mind with their dirty feet." - Mahatma Gandhi
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Vincent Tadeu
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Vinnie stopped for a moment to watch Roxy dart over the street, if not for her otherwise pointed demeanour he might have thought her absent minded, almost distracted; the strange focus in her voice told a different story. Shrugging off the paradox he turned and continued on his way down the street, content to let her carry the conversation for a while; her question about the Tripper wasn't unusual, after all it was hardly a famous landmark outside of London and even those in the city generally knew of it through the Anarchs who frequented it. Remaining quiet for a moment, there was no rush, no need to hurry himself or the conversation - there was plenty of space to fill between here and their destination; he shrugged, literally this time rather than mentally and continued on his way.

"The Tripper is one of London's finest drinking establishments, and also happens to be where we congregate. If Nora's anywhere she'll be there, and if she's not then someone there will know where she can be found." He didn't even bother to acknowledge the comment about his jacket, it was probably part of her Malkavian babble anyway and loose strong was about as high on his list of priorities as taking a bath was.
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Frankie O'Hara
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OOC: Okay, since Vinnie's player isn't around, I'm going to jump on this and we're just going to go ahead and grab Roxie and make a quick entrance/exit type thing, and move this into a new thread at the Tripper.



Frankie trotted towards the Tripper and smiled as she saw Vinnie not far from the entrance to the bar. She was here to see Nora, but getting a quick update about how business was doing for the Boss would be good. She was nearly there when she heard the distinctively sound of Vinnie's phone ringing and she slowed to allow him some more time to talk.

She was nearly to him when he bid the woman he was with a quick goodbye and made a faster exit heading somewhere. Frankie frowned and stopped where he had been just a few moments before and looked over at the woman he'd left here and a moment later her phone vibrated in her pocket and she read the screen with a blank expression.

Im not sure how long ill be gone but ive got to go. Im leaving a few things at your place. Take care of yourself kid.

She frowned and slipped the phone in her pocket and tugged at the black Flogging Molly tee she'd cut into a tank that showed off the celtic knot design on the fronts of her shoulders knotting at the back of her neck and braided down her back. She let a breath and rubbed at her neck and adjusted the beanie that was covering her head and left the ends of her pink hair visible on the right side of her skull. The ripped up dark gray jeans and running shoes completed her outfit.

She turned to the woman and readjusted the sling backpack on her back then crossed her arms under her breasts, "What were you up to with Vinnie?" She gave the red head a once over decided she must have just needed some direction that Vinnie was willing to give and turned to the Tripper, "Nevermind I've got to go talk to somebody, welcome to London."
Edited by Frankie O'Hara, Saturday, 8. June 2013, 20:26.
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OOC - Frankie's hot pink font color: #F660AB
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