There's a place I know I can always go (Open)

[longterm]

It's been a while since Cesare was last in London. He had...other issues to attend to in other countries. But now that he's back, he wants to immerse himself in his surroundings. Cesare is not exactly the type of man to spend any extended period of time with strangers so voluntarily, but he wants to pick up the pulse of London again, see how it's moving nowadays. And where better to do that than on his home turf?

Cesare is lurking in a corner of a lounge at The Angelo, sitting in an armchair and sipping an Old Fashioned (the irony isn't lost on him). He doesn't look particularly remarkable, at least when compared to the hotel's typical clientèle of businessmen in suits and high flyers with a little too much time on their hands. In fact, Cesare has gone out of his way to blend in. He holds a paper as if he actually cares about standard current affairs and looks at his phone every so often as if he finds it useful and not newfangled and pointless. You would probably have to know who Cesare was to spot him. Constantly, though, he's watching.

A. Can I buy you a drink?
Eventually someone catches his eye at the bar. Are they familiar? Does Cesare know them? Perhaps. Do they just seem interesting? Just as possible.

Cesare leaves his paper on the lounge chair and sits himself down next to them. He smirks, his manner calm and collected. You're in his home. He's comfortable.

"What do you drink?"

B. What are you doing here?
Someone is here who shouldn't be. They could be an old foe who has grown over confident with Cesare's absence. They could be the wrong type of person for this type of hotel. They could simply not have paid.

Either way, they shouldn't be here. Cesare quietly makes his way up to them. When he speaks, his tone is polite and cordial but there's something slightly too piercing about his gaze and he's standing a little too close to them for comfort.

"Something tells me you might be lost."

C. Can I speak to a manager?
Someone isn't happy. In fact, they are really quite frustrated. One of the hotel staff has messed up royally and someone is demanding that they speak to a higher up about it. This needs to be fixed. Something has to be done and Cesare is happy enough to oblige. With his façade of a casual hotel guest ruined he smiles as the waiter anxiously frets.

"I'm certain that we can sort this out."

D. Pick your own adventure! Choose something else!

Comments

[dredefulchilde]

"Well. Thank heaven for small miracles." He sounds quite bored, but he always sounds quite bored. It's an affectation that, after centuries of practice, he no longer has to affect.

"Your fondness for train wrecks will be your undoing, my friend. There are those of us who cannot help but be caught up in the explosion because we do not have the privilege of viewing it as an outsider." And Cesare is an outsider, to an extent. He hasn't been in London for decades, hasn't seen Millicent's mismanagement of the Nest in the last half century. He's gotten away from all of it and has been gallivanting around the Americas instead. Joscelin resents him for that, a little bit. Not like he'd ever mention it, of course.

"I hated Millicent. It's no secret that I wished her dead, and I wish I had been the one to do it. And yet, I find this change of regime troubling. At least under Millicent, we had stability. I have no love for the wolves, but we cannot afford to be openly at war with them, nor can we risk our relationship with Sylvia Redbright and Circle Daybreak. This beautiful, bright explosion of yours may be our undoing."

[longterm]

Cesare knows better than to dismiss his elders and he respects Joscelin's opinion. Cesare just doesn't share it. He knows that all alliances, however long they've lasted already, are always temporary. Tides shift, regimes change, empires fall and people who were closest allies become enemies in mere moments. He is not afraid of an upset. So when Joscelin mentions not being able to war openly, Cesare looks out into the bar and pulls a wry smile.

"Why can't we? The witches could be taken down a peg or two as well. They should leave us to fight our battles instead of attempting to rule us through some absurd bureaucracy. Don't you find it ironic that for something called the Night Council, the fucking witches are running it instead of the vampires? Who the fuck let that happen?"

Cesare thinks it's a joke. The idea that everyone has accepted the witches' rule for so long seems ridiculous to him, particularly considering their youth. In Cesare's opinion, he thinks the establishment needs a bit of a shake up.

"Just between the two of us, though." He smirks. "I don't want to be undone just yet."

[dredefulchilde]

Joss raises his eyebrow over the rim of his glass. "You've been away for quite some time," he explains patiently, as if to a small child. Or a simpleton. "The Night Council is for our mutual benefit, or so they claim. We even have something vaguely resembling a democracy." His mouth twists. "Millicent's position was never up for a vote, of course. She never did share power well. But the presidency of the Night Council was. I recently had the dubious honor of casting a ballot with her name on it." He can't even remember who else was on it. Something about a bear?

The establishment may be a joke, but it's their reality. The witches far outnumber them. Simple arithmetic is not on their side, and the witches do not need an excuse to start vampire hunting.

"My dear Mr. Borgia, if you don't want to be undone you'll do well to leave this particular mess alone. When Harris does flame out, he will do so spectacularly. Take care that you are not burnt."