undergrounds | May catch-all

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May catch-all

Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace,
Profaners of this neighbour-stained steel,--
Kaspars, mid-may : closed to Nancy

My dear friend,

Allow me to apologise for the abruptness of my departure. I was needed elsewhere but have since returned to London. I come, as well I ought, bearing gifts.

If you would permit me to beg your indulgence, please meet me at the Kaspars at eight o'clock this coming Wednesday evening. I would appreciate the company.

Lord Coward

The note was, perhaps, a bit old-fashioned, but he enjoyed when he was from. He'd been raised in an area where being a gentleman meant something. And with a young lady who was in his keeping? He was certainly going to be precisely that.

Which was why he'd sent the note along with one of the first of a promised gifts.

For his part, Lord Coward arrived a little earlier than his invitation had suggested.

He'd ordered the finest of the white wines from the menu, and a small jewellery box sat on the plates awaiting his guest.

Will they not hear? What, ho! you men, you beasts,
That quench the fire of your pernicious rage
Tower Hamlets, mid May : open to all

It isn't uncommon to find Lord Coward in one of the little cafés near his home when the weather is decent, as it happens to be today. He has nowhere to be: no press conferences to give, no office to man, no Nest to pacify. He is, instead, simply on his own and able to enjoy a proper newspaper, a good cup of coffee, and a decent day in May.

Until, of course, he hears something of a commotion. Which doesn't just die down. So, instead, he stands, approaches, and clears his throat.

"What seems to be the trouble here?"

With purple fountains issuing from your veins,
On pain of torture, from those bloody hands
Greenhouse, mid May : closed to open to all

To my honourable colleague, Mister Norrell, High Priest of Daybreak,

Allow me first to offer my condolences for the outcome of the latest election. I regret that my absence prevented me from assisting your campaign, otherwise you would have had my full support.

I should very much like to meet over dinner and discuss the current situation. If you would be so kind as to meet me Monday at eight at the Greenhouse, I would be most honoured.

Lord Coward

The restaurant was one he thought Norrell would appreciate. It was a premier place to be seen, and having lunch together publicly would only help them both. After all, he had to cultivate his alliances after having been unexpectedly called away.

"Thank you for joining me," he offered as he stood and held out a hand. "I must apologise for my previous departure. My superior called me away quite suddenly."

Which was true. His Sire had summoned him, and he had gone, as any vampire would.

After about two hours, it was abundantly clear that his invitation had been refused. Which, well, was equally parts understandable and insulting. But he'd deal with that later. He paid the rather minor tab and departed the restaurant, heading down the street. It was a fine night to walk home, he decided.

Throw your mistemper'd weapons to the ground,
And hear the sentence of your moved prince.
Coward's home, mid May : closed to James

Mister Memon,

I would be delighted if you would join me at my home this Friday at seven for dinner. Which will be prepared by a human cook and fit for human consumption.

I should very much like to discuss where we stand politically, as we both understand how the situation can change quickly.

Lord Coward

The promised dinner was an elegant French course of meals with steak at the centre. It was something he could still somewhat enjoy himself, especially with as rare as his cook had made it. She understood her master's tastes all too well.

"Ah, wonderful to see you, Mister Memon," he said, rising from his seat as the man was shown in to his study. He circled around the desk and offered his hand. "Thank you for coming."

Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word,
By thee, old Capulet, and Montague,
Greenwich, mid May : open to all

Millicent and the others were likely still irritated with him about pulling the vampires out of the territory. Still, he'd secured more for them than he'd lost, and that was what mattered to him. An alliance and future favours were always worth far more than a little bit of land. Not that Millicent cared about his vision for the future.

Still, it had been done, and he was a vampire in werewolf territory. Not that he seemed greatly concerned. After all, he was well known, even just as the Police Commissioner. Not many would want to mess with him, especially if they also knew what he was.

But he's out for a meal.

Might it cause a bit of trouble? Perhaps. But that's why it's fun.

Which is why the little bar catches his attention, and he goes in, surveying the crowd for a good moment. He was particularly looking for any young men he might be able to talk into more than a feeding. But, at the very least, he was going to find someone young. They always tasted the best.

"Scotch, neat," he says to the bartender.

Have thrice disturb'd the quiet of our streets,
And made Verona's ancient citizens
Islington Nest territories, May 13th-15th : open to all

Millicent had offered them all the blood they could drink, and Coward was keen to not let the opportunity pass untaken. After all, he was in need of more to sire if he wanted to reclaim his rank and rise higher in the estimations of his Nest.

He had two primary hunting grounds: the bluest of blood and the bluest of collar.

The very rich wanted to live forever. The very poor wanted power.

Both could be helped by the promise of becoming a vampire.

So whether it was at the house of someone with more money than they knew what to do with or down in the slums, Lord Coward could be seen talking to someone young, someone with plenty of life still to be led, and leaning in close, clearly engaged in intimate conversation. Which could be interrupted, especially when he indicated his own palm and produced a knife covertly, or left alone to finish letting the individual drink from his cut palm then go, for now, their own way.

Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments,
To wield old partisans, in hands as old,
East End territories, May 21st : open to all

To say that Lord Coward is unhappy with the 'Wolf Hunt' Millicent has declared would be putting it mildly indeed. He had carefully cultivated his alliance with East End before he'd left, and now all of that was being thrown onto the fire. He'd raged to James Memon's voice mail for a few minutes on the subject.

But he'd needed to assure the man he hadn't known about this before tonight, even if the alpha was in no state to reply to him until the morning.

Still, Coward did what any unhappy vampire ought to do: he went hunting.

His prey tonight was neither humans nor wolves. Instead, he sought out those vampires in werewolf territory who were doing their leader's request proud. Those he stood a chance against, he attacked with full force, and he made sure the fight wasn't over until they were dead. Which was easy to frame a wolf for having done.

Then? Well. There was no reason for the pelts they'd collected to go to waste. The wolves were already dead, and he could use the support of the Nest, so he took them to claim for himself.

Which wasn't to say that he had an easy time of his fights or entirely set the scene without being seen. But he tried, at least, to make it swift and able to pass a decent inspection.

Canker'd with peace, to part your canker'd hate:
If ever you disturb our streets again,
Southwark, late May : open to Islington members/allies

This whole thing was a mess. While he didn't mind the open season to feed and turn, the declaration against the wolves had gone too far. Still, the Night Council could hardly come down on them. The representative herself had authorised all of it. Which, in a way, made him a little irritated.

"What do you want?"

The annoyance in his voice? Not wholly intentional. But all he wants right now is to be left alone with the young man pretending to be very interested in the politics of his position in the mundane world while blood drips from his neck, onto Coward's fingers, which he takes a moment to lick off.

"I hope it's important."

Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace.
Islington, late May : closed to first responder

Two vampires lay dead. Another was badly wounded, and a third had the injured party cornered.

Lord Coward had several injuries, and they weren't healing, as the wooden spikes were still driven into him. He could hardly see straight, but he still spit blood from his mouth out onto the ground.

"You're out of your mind."

"I know it was you! Just because you're fucking one of those dogs, you think you can betray us--"

"Whatever you think--"

"Jus' shut th' fuck up! I know you killed Lenny! And Marcus!"

"Then take it up with Millicent," Coward challenged, spitting again. There was so much blood. "If you have some sort of proof--"

"Everyone knows!"

"Then why isn't she executing me? Ah. Yes. Because I brought her pelts."

"You stole those!"

"If you could prove that ridiculous idea, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"Enough! You're dying for what you did!"

"I doubt it," Coward muttered under his breath, though he sounded more confident than he felt.

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Nancy didn't know when to expect Coward back. He'd given her enough that she was set up for some time, but even so, his return was highly welcomed. Especially with the shifting of politics in Midnight's (slight) favor. She didn't want to risk getting into trouble, without the police commissioner on her side. It paid to have friends in high places, and she was experiencing this first hand.

So naturally, she called off her plans when Coward's letter and delivery arrived. So come Wednesday at 8, she was walking into Kaspar's, her ginger hair curled and coiffed up off of her neck. The waitstaff seemed to guess who she was there for, or had been warned she was coming, had escorted her towards him. And there he was, sitting at the table for the two of them, glasses of wine at the ready.

"Lord Coward," she said, approaching him. Her heels put her much closer to his height. "It's so good to see you!" She reaches a hand to him and moves in to give him a kiss on the cheek, her usual greeting of those she cared about.

"My dear," he replied, leaning forward to kiss Nancy's opposite cheek. After all, she was a lovely young lady, and he had no fear of scandal. Not where this was concerned. His own reputation could stand a few tabloids. Not that they could prove anything. If they could? They deserved the story. "How are you?"

He motioned to the table, moving to pull her chair out slightly.

If she chose to open the box on her plate, she'd find a necklace inside. But he says nothing about the box or its contents, leaving it to her and whatever she chooses to do.

"I'm sorry I left so suddenly."

Worst came to worst, she'd say she was his niece or something and he took her out for dinner. Something like that.

"I'm good!" She said, looking up at him as she sat down in the chair, scooting forward. Before even reaching for the wine, she reaches for the box, and then turns to look up at him. You can't put something potentially shiny in front of her and tell her not to touch. That just wasn't fair at all.

"You shouldn't have," she did say, opening the box. She gasped, reaching a hand out to touch the necklace. "Oh- you really shouldn't have- I understand you had to leave, it's- wow. This is beautiful." No one had given her something so nice before. She blinked rapidly, the tip of her nose stinging.

Coward had to laugh just a little. Not meanly, no, but a warm and comfortable sound. After all, he liked to spoil those he cared about. And he did care about Nancy. She was the kind of young woman he'd have wanted to take care as a witch, and, now, she had the power he missed.

"I thought the colour would suit you," he replied.

Deep red for the arrangement they had. Garnets on the neck, like drops of blood. It was, perhaps, a little dark, but, then, that was something he was considerably comfortable with.

"Thank you," she breathed, lifting it out of the box. Without hesitation, she held it to her neck, reaching around behind it to fasten the necklace.

Once it's secure, she gestures to the way it hangs on her neck. "How does it look?" She's immediately aware of the symbolism of the red drops. She loved it, to be honest. Blood work was, arguably, her favorite part of it, anyway.

"Spectacular."

If he had any interest in women, this is one who would have him undone. And she knew it, he thought. At least knew how beautiful she was and how tempting she could be. Not that one in her job had to be, but it, no doubt, made her more successful. And it attracted him, even just in a platonic sense.

The necklace was old, and it lent her gravity.

"It suits you."

Nancy had grown up being told she was beautiful. It was something she recognized in herself. She didn't say it out loud, sure, but, she knew it. She knew that others found her attractive, at least. And that Coward did, too.

Oh, she'd sleep with him in an instant if he asked.

"Thank you. I really, really mean it. For the dress, the necklace, what I'm sure is going to be a marvelous dinner." She fanned at her face a little. "If I was upset you left so quickly, you've more than made up for it, Lord Coward."

"I don't like to make those sorts of exits," Coward murmured, shrugging his shoulders. "But, unfortunately, I am a man of loyalty. When called by those I owe most, I obey." Even if he weren't bound by the man being his sire, he would still have gone immediately. "Besides." A smile. As a witch, she would particularly understand, especially since she knew he was one once. "It was Beltane."

Where else would he be, except at Blackwood's side? Even if they could no longer feel the magic of Beltane. They still appreciated the holiday, and it had been a breath of relief.

If Nancy hadn't been the most loyal sort herself, the mention of the holiday was more than enough to make her understand. She raised her glass towards the very idea with a smile on her face. "Well, I'm glad you enjoyed yourself, in the end. But I'm very glad you're back."

She had been meaning to talk with him, anyway, before he'd left, about possibly speaking with Kenzi. Who better to help her with the witch to vampire transition than a former witch himself?

"And I certainly hope you enjoyed the holiday yourself," he replied, raising his glass as well. He took a sip. The taste was hardly appealing now, but he could remember it quite well.

He smiled and settled into his chair as the waiter came over. It wasn't until the man had their orders and was gone that he spoke again.

"It's always been one of my favourites, I admit."

"It wasn't half bad," she acquiesced. She'd gone dancing, drinking wine with flowers in her hair. It seemed almost ironic that she would go to a fertility festival. But she had a healthy respect for fire, and witches threw the best parties.

"I can imagine. Though I'm sure that's not for the fire aspect, now."

"Fire should always be respected," he murmured with a faint smile. "Mortal or immortal, it certainly doesn't care. Then again..."

He offered a small shrug.

"The four elements. The four parts of the Sphinx. The old ways. Not the ancient ones, but the old ones, and in the Temple, I held the post of the Lion."

Of fire.

"Burning away the old to let the new grow."

Nancy considers this. "It's cleansing." Just as he said.

"I've always been fond of fire." It was her element, when they'd been creating Shadow Coven, but she wasn't about to say that out-loud.

"I need to thank you. Again. For the flat. It's absolutely perfect." And no one had died there. Yet.

"It suits you." And it accounted for a lot of things, if she had been shaped by it, as he found most who associated with an element had been. Internally, usually.

"You're more than welcome."

"What you've done- what you've offered." She shakes her head. "I can't help but thank you again and again. This is far more than anyone has ever done for me." He hadn't ever expected anything, but a warm meal, in exchange.

He treated her as more than just that meal.

"It's the least I can do, really," he replies calmly. Though his smile is genuine. "I've plenty. Time has given me that opportunity. And the service you provide... is invaluable."

When he didn't feel like hunting for his food, which could be a hassle.

If he wanted to hunt, all he had to do was ask, and they could come to some sort of agreement.

"You've been so good to me." She smiles at him from across the table.

"Which is why I hesitate to ask, but... I have a friend. She was a witch, but was turned, recently." talking about Kenzi is hard, time to drink a little. "If you're willing... I was wondering if perhaps you could speak with her? Give her some advice. She hasn't said anything, but I know losing her magic is hurting her."

A witch turned into a vampire. For him, that says everything. He will help. Whatever is needed, he can do. And being asked so simple? He smiles just a little at the request. Then, he offers a nod.

"Of course. I'd be happy to speak with her. Did she... choose to turn?"

That mattered quite a bit.

"Oh- thank you. Thank you so much, Lord Coward, another thing I can never repay you for." Another one to add to a long list, even if he insisted otherwise.

"She says she did. She was dying- she died, and I watched her bleed out." Her friend's warm blood on her hands, the couch's stains long since gone brown. Kenzi's new teeth biting down on her neck felt unlike any other that had ever fed off of her.

"She came to me." They were all so tied together. Colin didn't need to know any of this, and it was better if she shut up, but it was hard to say one without the other. Just as it was to identify the pit of tar that seemed to fill her stomach when she thought about it.

"And you were her first," he finishes for her. Because he knows what that's like. To be the first feed. He wonders how it went, how near she got to death herself. Not out of malice but pure curiosity. Because he can still remember feeling the life drain out of him, blacking out only to wake up in his own bed, half sure all of it had been a dream. It's not easy to forget.

The last piece of the puzzle. Mortal blood.

"I'm glad you're still with us, certainly."

Because that could have gone very wrong.

"How long ago was she turned?"

"Make it sound like something it's not, why don't you," she says dryly, but reaches for her wine to drink.

But she had been Kenzi's first. JC had gotten Kenzi to stop before too much damage was done. But it still felt... wrong. She would have happily given her blood, Kenzi knew that. But she didn't ask. She just came there, because Nancy was the one she wanted to be with her in her last human moments.

The one she wanted to be that last piece.

"January."

Coward shrugs his shoulders at the accusation. He might even smile a little at it. Because the innuendo hadn't been intentional, but there was plenty of crossover. Even where there was nothing of the sort present.

"Not very long at all, then. I'd be glad to speak with her. How has the adjustment been so far? Is her sire taking care of her?"

There was, and they were both fully aware of it.

"He is. His name's JC, I don't know if you know him." She didn't particularly care for him, even if he offered to protect her. She'd turned him down.

As for the adjustment... "I think she misses it more than she lets on. I don't cast in front of her, for that reason. But she'll tell you she's fine." She could only hope that maybe she'd open up to her, because she knew Nancy was there for her, always.

"Ah." The dryness in his tone likely says enough. "We've met."

And he knew the man by reputation as well. He was... well. He was considered quite low-born by some other vampires. Just as Coward was considered quite young. Too young to lead. But at least he had class. Unlike that establishment the man ran.

"It's a difficult transition. I've been on both ends of it, at least."

"I don't particularly like him, either," Nancy has to admit. He saved Kenzi's life. Sure. But...

But if not for Nancy, she'd have never gone off looking for trouble in the first place.

"That's why I asked you. I thought you'd know better than anyone else. She's willing to meet with you." She probably mostly just wanted to meet Nancy's most important client, but, you know.

"I'd be delighted to meet her," Coward repeats. "Where she'd like or in my home if she'd prefer."

That was paramount. But--

"Just please try to discourage her from making in that club. I'd prefer never to set foot in there if I can help it."

Nancy nods. "Of course. Anyone can tell that's an awful place for a meeting." Unless you were in the mafia and needed some cool cover. Then it was a perfect place.

Or if you were a group of girls on your hen night.

"I'll let her know."

"I'm sure its proprietor would think it a decent place for one," he muttered. However, that was all he'd say on that subject.

"I look forward to meeting her."

"JC is awful," she tells him. "Kenzi's sire, as it were." She makes a face, because she's not quite as posh as he is.

"Thank you. Again. I mean it."

A bar in werewolf territory seems like just about the last place two vampires were likely to meet, especially by accident. Natasha didn't risk it often, and probably more often than most vampires for all her particular brand of caution. There was also the fact that they were neither of them what the other was looking for. Natasha was looking for information—what the other vampire was doing other than drinking his scotch, she couldn't say.

But somehow, here they both were.

For a moment, Natasha considers leaving. At first, she'd been avoiding others of her own kind almost as much as she'd been avoiding werewolves. That's been slowly changing with time, though. It was a big city, but only so big. She's not sure there's any advantage in that, though. The chances of not being noticed weren't exactly high. She ran the math she knew best in her head, the kind that weighed risks, possible rewards, assessed where her best chances lay—and how much learning more might be worth.

And in the end, she decides to approach the bar after a bare hesitation in the door, taking a stool somewhat down the counter from him as she signed for the bartender to order a vodka tonic.

"Put her drink on my tab," he says after catching the bartender's attention. He offers the woman a bit of a smile. It looks relatively flirtatious, especially as he stands, taking his drink, to go over to her. He doesn't help himself to a seat, no, but he sets his drink down near one.

"I hope you don't mind. I couldn't help but want an excuse to make your acquaintance."

Because he can smell what she is, and he doesn't know her. That needs to change, for the simple sake of his position in the Nest. The more players he knows, the better he can move the pieces on the board.

"Who am I to turn down a free drink?" Natasha responds smoothly, smiling effortlessly. The look in her eyes is reserved though, a certain defensiveness that sits just under the surface.

It's nothing personal, but with older vampires, stronger vampires, she'd rather be paranoid than naive.

A little of her accent slips through as she continues. Not overwhelming, but identifiable. "Or the company—as long as I'm not distracting you from something more important?"

"I haven't seen you around before, and I'm fairly accustomed to the locals. Are you visiting from out of the country?"

It's charming enough, even if some would shake their head at the awkwardness of the question. He isn't trying to flrit. Just to convey that impression to anyone who might be listening. So awkward? Is fine.

But the question stands. He wants to know if she's part of the Nest or an outsider. Mobile or settled.

Not exactly subtle. Natasha's lips purse slightly at the question before her smile reasserts, and she angles him a sideways glance. She assumes the show was for anyone who might be listening in. It's certainly not for her.

"Not visiting, but I haven't been in the city long. A couple of months—it can't be that surprising we wouldn't have run into each other before." She lowers her lashes half way, considering. "This isn't one of my usual haunts."

"Are you often in Islington?"

It's a bit pointed, but it needs to be. After all, he hasn't seen her around the Nest, which makes him wonder where her loyalties lie. Where she has been if not there.

Her lips tighten sightly, her expression still pleasant but hard.

"No," she says without a hesitation. It's not something she's hiding. "I'd say I go there about as little as I can manage."

"Interesting. Then where are you staying?"

Because it's worth knowing, certainly. If she'll even tell him.

"A girl alone, big city like this..." She trails off for a moment, letting her statement stand for a moment before she redirects the question. "I don't even know your name, and you really can't be too careful."

To that, he only smiles and offers a bit of an old-fashioned bow.

"Lord Colin Coward, Police Commissioner of the Police of the Metropolitan."

"That's a very important sounding name. It's a pleasure to meet you, Lord Coward." She knows his name. She pays attention. She listens. She hadn't had a face to put with the name, though.

"Natasha Romanoff."

"A pleasure, Miss Romanoff," he replies, offering his hand politely. If it's given, however, he'll try to gingerly bring the back of it to his lips. Old-fashioned but often the best way to present himself, he's found.

Natasha takes his hand, not entirely surprised when he doesn't seem interested in shaking it. He's not the first vampire to hold onto the manners of an earlier time, and she's experienced enough to adapt to that—not to be uncomfortable, despite the fact she's not the kind of lady who gets her hands kissed or has men throw their coats down for her to keep her from having to walk through mud.

"Hopefully I'm not interrupting your evening," she says, her eyebrow quirking up either in concern, or in response to his manners.

A small figure coming onto the scene can't help a laugh as he witnesses the tableau in front of him.

"God's wounds, Coward, this is becoming a bit of a habit with you, isn't it?"

Joscelin has been away from London for a few weeks, having found the tedium of the election just a bit too much to bear, but the promise of unrestrained slaughter has him back in town. And none too soon, it seems. He folds his arms, watching the other vampires.

"Really, if the end result is dead wolves who cares who gets the pelts?"

"This bastard's killed vampires!" Leroy -- the one clearly 'in charge' between the two -- shouts over at the tiny one who's just appeared. "All 'cause he's fucking a wolf."

Behind him, Coward had forced out one of the pieces of wood with little more than a gasp of pain. But he then used all of his strength to drive it through Leroy's back. Not quite at the heart... but close. Especially to hurt.

"First off," he said, "language. There's no need to be so crude. Second off, you're wrong."

He hit the vampire hard enough to send him down.

"God, I hate violence." Nevermind that he was still bleeding from a few wounds. "No one settles things diplomatically anymore."

That earns Leroy another derisive laugh. "Who among us hasn't killed vampires?" He has his own trusty bit of wood out, twirling it expertly in one hand, but he makes no move to use it. Let Coward sort out his own mess for the time being. He'll jump in only when he thinks he's truly needed.

The boy smiles when Coward acts, driving a stake into one of his agressors. "No respect for their elders, these infants." He glances impassively at Leroy's prone form before starting to circle the other vampire, cutting off his escape route.

"Violence can be dead useful when employed properly, my dear Lord Coward. Tasteless as it is."

"I just don't understand why it's the first choice in this day and age. And it can't even have the class of being a duel."

Still out of fashion (mostly) by his era, but that at least had the trappings of gentlemanly behaviour. This was just so base. He couldn't quite determine what annoyed him more.

He fixed his gaze on Leroy's lackey. "IF you're willing to consider this matter settled, you can go. If you want to keep making trouble, though..."

Jean-Claude sits, patting himself down with napkins as several waitresses and the manager nearby fuss about whether they should bring him ice, if he should like for them to call an ambulance, and so on and so forth. Apparently a freshly brewed pot of coffee is rather hot, and if Jean-Claude were not a vampire, and one of significant years at that, he would probably have reacted in a manner more like an ordinary man might have done in such a situation.

As it was, this is more of a nuisance than anything else. He cannot hunt here anymore, not in a crowd that has just spent the last minute or so fussing over him. And his shirt will probably never be the same again. Combine that with the fact that any normal man really would have been seriously injured and by this and in order to fake it he's probably going to have to at least pretend to go seek medical attention, and it's all pretty much gone to pot.

He looks up and though it takes him a moment he breaks into a smile as he recognizes the face. Quelle coincidence, n'est-ce pas?

"Ahhh. Have you come to rescue me, mon capitaine?"

This man wants to be found out, Coward finds himself thinking. Not even a token effort to pretend to react. Or, at least, not in the way that Coward sees it. Which is a bit infuriating. Still, he shouldn't be surprised, given what he's heard about the shenanigans that happened in his absence.

"An ambulance won't be necessary," he says to the waitress. "My car's just outside."

He fixed Jean-Claude with a look as he said, "Come, my friend. Let's get you some attention for those. We don't want the burns getting worse."

What can he say. He is old, and he was distracted, and this is the price he pays for such things. Delving into human life. He's much better as a business owner than he is as an average citizen.

He turns a smile to the waitress himself, bowing his head at her in turn. "Et voila," he continues. "Thank you for your hospitality, I will make sure to repay it in kind." At least when he stands the stiffness in the movement is not completely faked. The skin beneath the wet cloth is sensitive, so freshly healed. It is...uncomfortable.

He takes a step towards the other vampire, offering him a privately knowing smile as he speaks up to request, "Lead on, mon ami."

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May catch-all

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Greenwich, mid May : open to all

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Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace.

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Tower Hamlets

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