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The Prologue
Topic Started: Dec 29 2013, 09:32 PM (287 Views)
Andrew Cutting
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Toreador Primogen
It had taken all his skill in diplomacy and all of his personal restraint to arrange this meeting, and to ensure that it was held here in the safety of the Cutting Building. Personally Andrew hated the Giovanni as a bunch of inbred necrophiliac hustlers and peddlers of all sorts of dangerous occult nonsense; it was bad enough that they had a major presence in the city but having to accept that in this particular instance they may in fact have something useful to contribute was worse. At least the Tremere had the decency and good sense to play by the Camarilla's rules and curb the worst of their eccentricities but where the Giovanni were concerned you could never, ever, be entirely certain of what they were up to because they held an almost complete monopoly on the craft of necromancy. It wasn't that necromancy was something that Andrew would want to dabble in himself, far from it, he regarded it as a grisly and altogether vulgar practice akin to the work of the corpsethieves of the 18th and 19th centuries; but having that monopoly meant that no-one else really knew exactly what they were capable of. They were a free entity, undefined and impossible to accurately plan around and this infuriated Andrew who was from a family which embodied British conservatism and caution.

Damn these corpse-peddling freaks and all their accouterments, you could never trust anyone who could speak with the dead! To think he would have to dirty his nice clean building with the presence of just one of them... but it was necessary, it had to be done. These rumours could not be ignored, his elders in York were telling him to take them seriously so he really had no choice; a Methuselah's crypt had been located by some distant crackpot relative of the family and what was worse the madman was actually going to try and raise said Methuselah from its torpor. This was not only a problem to the Cutting Family but the whole city, and perhaps the world; who knew what a damned Methuselah would do and since it was a Cutting that was responsible it would be their necks on the line if something wasn't done. The worst part of this whole mess was the alleged identity of the Methuselah in question; Lucas Nash, better known within the Cutting Family as Theodred Cutting - the one who all those centuries ago had brought together and blood-bound to his will three Toreador of the same mortal bloodline and in so doing created the Cutting Family. If that part proved true then Andrew was well and truly fucked if this Methuselah awoke.

Nash was not revered as a great ancestor or founding father of the Family, but rather as a tyrant who had enslaved their forebears to his will and whose hold had only been broken when he had voluntarily chosen to go into torpor - or so the legends went. If he were to awake now he would doubtless seek to enforce his will on the descendants of the Cutting Line and as high a generation as he was for his age there was no way that Andrew would be able to resist any attempt by Lucas to take control of the operations in Detroit, hell he may even send Andrew to his final death just to prove a point and neither prospect filled Andrew with spastic delight. So it came down to this.

The Giovanni were as close as it got to experts in matters of the occult in this city and their knowledge of death was unmatched, much though Andrew hated to admit it these charlatans with their dark powers may well hold the only means of stopping the rise of this lord of undeath. A Methuselah, any Methuselah, let alone Lucas Nash, would be very bad news for the city and he was certain that even the Giovanni would have cause to try and stop this - so here it was, Andrew was sitting in his office, high up in the Cutting Building waiting for his guest to arrive.
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Evangelos Giovanni
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Giovanni Don
A last minute change of plans by the Anziani brought him to this fresh hell the Americans called Detroit. It seemed better suited to him for the time being. A free city with no major sect in control offered endless possibilities for his own agenda.

Shipments of his personal affects were still arriving daily at the warehouse. Renovations were well underway and it would only be a matter of time and resources before his lab would be somewhat functional for his studies to continue. Enzo and Coco seemed quite at home in this new landscape, one far better suited to their more “urban” ideals.

His brow arched slowly as he watched the sad excuse for a metropolitan area pass by as Giancarlo maneuvered the car towards the destination that he had been summoned to.

It was not a far stretch of the imagination that it would be a Toreador of the city who would reach out to him. He had long associations with the clan from his close friendship with Antoine St. Martin, the Toreador Prince of Chicago to his former wife, Sophia Wronsky, whom he had heard was last seen in Prague.

Giancarlo parked the car and would move to hold his door for him as he stepped out of the car and gazed up at the building for a moment. His fingertips tugged at his shirt cuffs and adjusted the cufflinks that bore the insignia of his clan and family.

His hand smoothed over Gianni’s shoulder and offered his longtime friend and ghoul a reassuring clasp as he stepped onto the curb and would walk purposefully into the building.

His suit was Italian and finely tailored as one would expect of any Giovanni Elder. His azure gaze carefully took in his setting. His beast held close to the surface [Path of Bones 10] as he offered what could otherwise be a charming smile to the receptionist.

His italian-accented voice breaking through the silence of the interior, “Mr. Giovanni to see Mr. Cutting.”

Somewhere in the back of his mind he had hoped for something more than what he found in London. If he was faced with another circus of fuckwits he would most likely appeal to the Anziani for an extended torpor if not final death.
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Andrew Cutting
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Toreador Primogen
The phone on his desk rang, it caught Andrew quite by surprise despite the fact that he had been expecting it; as a Toreador he kept up with the social trends and styles of the day and while he certainly owned a mobile phone, or cell as these uncouth Americans were wont to call them but he wasn't good at sitting and waiting on calls which right now was precisely what he had to do. Picking up the receiver he waited for the operator to speak; calls to this phone always came through the building's switchboard rather than direct something which Andrew preferred not just for the added security but also because it meant he could still call the operator to ask to be connected like back in the 'old days' of telephone technology, why break the habit he'd worked so hard to acquire after all?

"Sir Andrew, there is a Mr Giovanni here to see you." came the N'Orleans drawl of the head receptionist, he quite liked her, as far as mortals; pretty, without stealing the show and with a fine head on her shoulders, she was one of the best humans he'd ever ghouled. The refined deep southern creole accent didn't bother him in the slightest, it made her sound exotic and interesting and he fancied it allowed his guests a moment of vibrancy in their otherwise dull lives in this grey wasteland of a city; besides which his opinion of the Michigan accent was much the same as his opinion of German cooking - nutritious after a fashion but not exactly appetising.

"Very good, send him up, directly."

He waited for her to reply in the affirmative and put the receiver back down, standing up from his seat behind the desk he strolled out of his office into the neat little receiving room set up to one side of his personal offices; it was a much more comfortable place to sit and without the desk and high back leather chair it was a less intimidating locale for such discussions. He'd had a pair of comfortable leather sofa chairs set in place with a low table for 'drinks' in between so that they could talk on an even footing. The room itself was well appointed, with a fine Persian rug stretched across a polished black marble floor; the walls were similarly black marble, but hung with paintings if various Cuttings and American historical figures, however over the mantelpiece of the fire which was burning low behind a firm guard, was a framed tattered British flag from his army days as a mortal.

Taking a seat in the chair facing the door and crossing his legs he watched and waited for his guest to arrive.
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Evangelos Giovanni
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Giovanni Don
He recognized the accent of the receptionist when she spoke and he couldn’t help the hint of a smile that would tug at the corner of his otherwise flawless features. He had spent the greater portion of his neonate existence managing a warehouse in New Orleans and there was something about the Creoles that warmed his cold, dead heart.

He nodded to her and offered a native ”Gratzie.” in reply as she directed him into the room where Mr. Cutting had so patiently waited.

He stepped into the room, offering a side-step as he would wait for her to shut the door behind him before he would turn again to you, his hand hand lifting to rest upon his abdomen allowing the light of the room to glint off of his family ring before he would offer a polite bow to you. ”Signore Cutting, I presume?”

His mannerisms entirely formal and polite. He was well versed in these matters of politics and refinement amongst the undead. His gaze taking in those smaller details that would offer a satisfactory first impression as he would wait for you to offer him a seat.
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Dol
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Andrew stood as the Giovanni stepped into the room and extended his hand to shake Evangelos' as he raised from his bow; he held back from saying anything allowing the new Don to have the first word. The formalities done with he offered the Giovanni a chair before taking his own seat and folding one leg over the other as was his custom. The room was only dimly lit by the soft glow of the fire and lights dimmed to match its low embers, so Andrew's face was cleanly defined with soft shadows which showed off his exquisite noble features. His soft porcelain skin seemed to give off a silvery glow like moonlight as the flickering of the fire's flames gave it definition.

"Yes, Primogen of the Toreador and Keeper of Elysium; and as for yourself, you are Evangelos Giovanni the new leader of this city's Giovanni or so I am told, word of your past accomplishments arrived in Detroit not long after you did, I am pleased to see that the Giovanni are finally taking this little slice of hell on Earth seriously. A man of your reputation should do well here, though this is a city of thieves and criminals of the worst sort it takes a ruthless strategic mind of some quality to rise above and carve out their own dominion here. I have no doubt you will find your endeavours richly rewarded."

He reached down to the low table for a decanter of fine scotch; beside it rested another filled with a liquid the shade of a deep and fine red but which seemed to have a much more viscous consistency. Pouring a measure into a glass beside it he then offered the drink to his guest; he knew not all kindred could process mortal food or drink as he could, but as blood was more or less like water to them it remained nonetheless more polite to offer the scotch first.

"You are most welcome here and should certainly feel free to join us here whenever you have the time; the ground floor is home to some of the finest social gathering points in the city for people of our class and breeding and the floors immediately above are home to more 'specific' clubs for our sort, not that its saying much given where you have come from but it can be quite entertaining regardless. With the exception of the ground floor the entire building is Elysium and I enforce it quite rigorously so you need not fear for yourself while here." Andrew paused for a moment as if to observe the man sitting across from him; the Giovanni was still a fairly recent arrival in Detroit so he did not have a complete picture of his character yet; whispers would work their way through but for now he would rely upon his own assessment. "Now please forgive me for getting straight to the point but the matter I invited you here to discuss is one of some importance and urgency. I'm sure you have heard the rumours of the uncovering of a Methuselah's crypt somewhere in the city, yes?"
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Evangelos Giovanni
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Giovanni Don
There was something to be said for the blood of Clan Toreador and its workings. His tongue traced over the back of his canine as he slowly cross one leg over the other, his palm smoothing over the finely pressed line of his trousers as he observed Andrew with a steady gaze that most would find entirely unnerving.

The beast within knows its own and he couldn’t help but grin at his mention of the elements that made Detroit what she was in these modern nights. He absent-mindedly licked his lips as the Scotch was poured, leaning in as if to make the conversations somehow more personal as his hand lifted to politely decline the offered measure.

”From what I have seen so far, Detroit offers itself in a far more refined manner than it’s counterparts from where I have most recently traveled….” A pause then as he considered your title, ”Do you prefer to be addressed as Primogen or Keeper, Signore?”

He would wait for your answer before continuing and addressing you to your preference. ”As the Eldest amongst my family and clan in your city, I am grateful for the invitation to share in your Elysium and can assure you that the Giovanni will act according to the Traditions of your sect when they are within the bounds of your domain.” His hand gestured languidly as it is genetically predisposition to do so given his heritage, ”And should there be any issue, I would welcome you to take up these issues with me as the Don of Clan Giovanni.”

He would nod to your offering of the vitae as a second offering beyond the initial Scotch, lifting it to savor it first through scent and then through taste before it would come to rest upon his thigh. His gaze had fallen to study the hue through the fine crystal as you began to speak of the Methuselah.

His brow arched slowly as his azure gaze snapped to meet yours. ”Methuselah is not a word that one brandishes lightly… I am still quite new and I have not heard…” The glass lifted as he would drink the remains of it and set it empty upon the table that rested between them.

”Please… indulge me, if you will…” He wanted to know the details of this Methuselah… Clearly wanting to be able to assess whether it was of rumor or truth and furthermore what it might mean for the Giovanni.

He reached into the folds of his suit coat and would retrieve a pack of cigarettes. ”… May I?” A pause as he would wait for your nod of approval before he would move to light it and hang on the remaining details.
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Dol
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Taking the scotch for himself having passed the Giovanni his own drink he sat back in the chair. The fact that this Giovanni was well dressed helped him to get over his distinct distaste at his presence and he was keeping up a mask of good manners and candor carefully to disguise his real feelings about the man in front of him. Beneath the tailored suit and the smile this man was still a corpseriding charlatan.

"Between gentlemen of our standing I hardly think such affectations are necessary; let us keep it to names rather than titles, please just call me Sir Andrew." The Don's assurances of good behaviour meant little to Andrew, he was paying lip service to the old treaties and with no solid sect boundaries in the city it was always going to be debatable what Camarilla territory actually meant; but for now so long as he and his ghoulish family behaved themselves while in his territory in Downtown Detroit then he would be satisfied. "I appreciate your assurances, I'm sure we shall be able to do business together quite effectively. For my part I shall do my best to keep those of my clan in line where your own assets are concerned; you already have the number for my Head Receptionist so should you ever need to contact me you shall be able to do so."

Being a smoker himself Andrew made a motion with his hand that it was fine for the Giovanni to light a cigarette; personally he preferred cigars or cigarillos to cigarettes because the taste was smoother and finer, but really it didn't trouble him in the slightest whether the Giovanni smoked or not. It surprised him that the Giovanni had not heard the news, with something so important arising in the city just as he arrived it ought to have been among the very first pieces of information he acquired; maybe he just wasn't as prepared as Andrew would have been.

"Methuselah might well be a dangerous word to brandish but in this case my own sources assure me that it is accurate; however I have yet to uncover much more about the kindred in question. Rumour has it he is a childe of Set himself which gives us only more reason to fear his rise, some crackpot kindred occultist has supposedly uncovered to crypt and is currently preparing to raise this Methuselah from his torpid slumber. Where this crypt is I cannot say and little else is know of its contents besides the Methuselah."
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Evangelos Giovanni
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Giovanni Don
He lit the cigarette and pulled a slow drag from it as he listened to what you offered about the Methuselah in question. It wasn’t all too strange to him that this would be the first. He had been busy getting matters of import together since he had arrived and was just only finally able to have time and proper office space to resume his usual course of study.

His gaze narrowed thoughtfully as he exhaled slowly. ”A Setite.” He offered in thought as he nodded his head in thought.

”One does not raise a Methuselah because one has nothing better to do.”

He pulled another slow drag off the cigarette as is gaze dropped to watch the embered tip whose flickering always reminded him of the Artificer’s forges. ”Do you have a hypothesis as to what might motivate this… ‘crackpot kindred occultist’ to be so inclined?”

His gaze lifted back to the Toreador and his mind was already moving through options available to him. Certainly he could make an inquiry of Maximo, his spirit mentor or even do his own investigations through the shroud. Certainly one of our kind does not rise without the notice of the spirits that abound.
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Andrew Cutting
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Toreador Primogen
"Beyond the obvious? Any Methuselah is capable of bestowing great power upon others and some of our kind have lost their senses to a degree where they worship such ancients as deities. In any case I was hoping you would be able to tell me, given the expertise of your clan." Andrew drank from the glass in his hand and regarded Evangelos closely before continuing, "Your kin are after all more closely involved with occult matters than my own."
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Evangelos Giovanni
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Giovanni Don
His brow arched slowly as the Toreador felt inclined to school him on what the import of a Methuselah might mean to the others including the city as a whole. ”Si, Sir Andrew, I do not need my memory acquainted with the idea of what a Methuselah is capable of doing or not doing.” His gaze narrowed slightly as he rolled the cigarette thoughtfully between his fingertips.

The Giovanni, after all, had their own Methuselah that walked amongst them from time to time. His influence was quite clearly felt on a nightly basis.

”What do you know of him? Does he have a name? Where were his last known or rumored locations?”

He paused as he pulled a final drag from his cigarette and reached over to slide the ashtray a bit closer and snub out its remains. ”If I am going to set my kin out on an errand it would be useful to have as much information as possible.”

He settled back into his chair and looked to Andrew.
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Andrew Cutting
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Toreador Primogen
Andrew was not surprised by the questions posed to him by the Giovanni, they were standard fair in such a conversation as this, however he had been quite particularly instructed on how much of what the Cutting Family knew he was to disclose and he knew that he must tread very carefully. He couldn't refuse to give Evangelos information outright because the rumours already said more than he had divulged so it would become obvious that he was holding back which was hardly the impression he wanted to give to a potential ally in the matter. But he also knew for a fact that the Giovanni would not permit the rise of a potentially dangerous rival Methuselah in Detroit for fear of the corrupting Setite influence he would spread. Taking a quick drink from his glass he watched the Don finish his cigarette and chose his next words carefully.

"The last recorded name that the Methuselah went by is apparently Lucas Nash, though I somehow doubt that that is his real name; every piece of information I have indicates that he is a male fourth generation Setite which as I said makes him a direct childe of the legendary Set if true. As for his location... I simply don't know and that is the problem. If I were to hazard a guess I would say somewhere in or near the Miller Cemetery in the West Side of the city - as fate would have it an area firmly controlled by the Anarchs and their troublesome Baron, Jean-Claude Deveaux."It struck him that Evangelos would probably know nothing of the Anarch Baron yet and in the spirit of cooperation it seemed fair to fill him in; additionally it was wise to do so since the Baron could be an obstacle to any effort by the Giovanni in this matter. "Deveaux has been a thorn in the side of the local Camarilla for years; however he has powerful patrons further up the chain thanks to the fact that his word holds the peace between the Camarilla and the Anarchs in Detroit. If my guess is correct then the Baron is more or less sitting right on top of the damned Crypt, since he lives in some decrepit ruin on the cemetery grounds but Caine alone knows just what goes on in that part of the city."

"It may be worth your while trying to contact Deveaux since he shares some of your... abilities, when it comes to the dead, though he is no Giovanni. He is a Samedi; very well mannered and he respects the basic laws of our kind, but he is a very superstitious sort being from Haitian stock I believe; if you do choose to contact him be very careful, I've heard all sorts of wild stories about his power over the dead and undead."
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Evangelos Giovanni
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Giovanni Don
He made a mental note of the name and the location that was offered as the Primogen spoke of the Methuselah in question. The Anarchs weren’t so bad at the end of the day. They had their uses. He still felt bad about leaving Nora behind in London and kept his tabs on her from time to time. A strange connection he had with that one.

The Sabbat he had no patience for on most levels. Their ambitions were applaudable, at best. But certainly there were better ways to go about these things. Though certainly not everyone was as flawless as Augustus’ children.

His gaze narrowed slightly as you mentioned the Baron and the fact that he wields his own variation of Necromancy as a Samedi. Interesting, he thought. His hands folded on his lap as he couldn’t help the feral smile that tugged at the corner of his lips. “Well then, it seems the first place to start is with the Baron…”

His fingertips idly toyed with his family ring as he looked to Andrew, ”While it is rare for the Giovanni to assist in such matters without a fair price for our time, I’ll admit that I am somewhat intrigued and that we would have a ‘vested interest’ in seeing this matter to fruition… and as a gesture of ‘good faith’ towards your sect… We are willing to offer whatever services we can into the further investigation…”
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Andrew Cutting
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Toreador Primogen
So the Giovanni considered his cooperation a favour of sorts, even if he hid it behind other words; well let him think that for now, once they learned more of this Methuselah they would be falling over themselves to prevent his return to the waking world of that Andrew was certain. So powerful an influence were the Setites when truly roused and impassioned with ambition that they could get their fingers into everything and usurp all other authority; Detroit might not be the most favourable of cities but it was Andrew's home and had been for some time, he would not allow his position to be compromised.

"Of course in this matter we both have a mutual interest in preventing the rise of this Methuselah or better, destroying him if possible, so should you need any assistance that my clan can muster you need only ask. As for the sect as a whole... well that remains to be seen. I will be speaking with the Prince about the matter at length and I am certain that he will be just as supportive towards our efforts." He paused once again as if thinking. "For my part I can offer you something as a show of good faith, some information you may find useful. You might be interested to know that you are not the first kindred to migrate from London. Detroit seems a popular destination for those pushed out of that ancient city; I have heard that a group calling themselves the London Anarchs have set up shop in the West Side not far from the Baron's residence."

"They're lead by a Brujah gangster by the name of Tadeu, quite the rabble rouser so I'm told, but he may prove useful to you as you both have an interest in the happenings of that city."
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Evangelos Giovanni
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Giovanni Don
He made a mental note of the our efforts and wondered just how much of the efforts would really be that of the Clan Toreador. Though perhaps they grew a tougher variety of rose here in the Motor City. He simply nodded as Andrew mentioned he speak to the Prince and would see what would come of it. Someone always had to foot the bill one way or the other and he was not a man who was afraid of risking any investments.

His brow arched slowly as mention of other immigrants from London. ”Why does this not surprise me?” Though he couldn’t fathom the irony of it that they would all land so closely together. Perhaps Nora suggested they follow? Strange, and worth looking into. ”I appreciate that bit of insight and will consider reaching out to them… if not for the sake of curiosity.”

Yes, yes. Curiosity killed the cat. And then the Giovanni resurrected it. His joining up with the Reapers would occur sooner or later, this much he knew for certain.

He waited with a stillness, that most would consider disturbing, for any further direction or insight that the Toreador Primogen would care to share. His mind already composing a set of checklists. Enzo would not have as much time on the boat as he would care to think.
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Andrew Cutting
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Toreador Primogen
Their time together was drawing to a close; the meeting had reached its natural conclusion and had gone precisely as Andrew had planned. The Giovanni certainly had manners and a measure of decency he had not expected but it did little to overcome his own personal distaste of that Clan and everyone in it; still diplomacy had placed its demands upon him and it was better to remain on good terms with such people as Evangelos. So it was that with a handsome smile Andrew stood, placing his now empty glass on the low table, and offered his hand for the Don to shake.

"Then that concludes our business here tonight; it was a pleasure to meet you and I am glad that we can begin our relationship in the spirit of cooperation towards a mutual goal. Should you require any information or anything else for that matter with regards to this unfortunate situation you need only ask."
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Evangelos Giovanni
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Giovanni Don
He rose and buttoned his suit coat, all of these gestures second nature for him. A gentle tug at his shirt cuffs as Andrew spoke those parting words. He offered a charming smile of his own as he glanced down towards the offered hand.

The last time a ‘peer’ had done so it was the Prince of London and a certain amount of information was gleaned from the man’s touch. But what could be expected when one opted to meet with a Giovanni while NOT in Elysium?

There is more to being an elder than the use of disciplines. He extended his hand and offered a firm handshake to the Toreador Primogen. ”It’s been a pleasure, Sir Andrew. I’m certain we’ll speak again soon.”

A nod of his head offered, ”Buona Sera.”, as he pivoted on his fine Italian heel and would then move to take his leave for the evening.

He glanced to his watch once he stepped out from the room and would move to step out into the night’s air to meet up with Enzo who had the car waiting.
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