Daryl entered and quietly shut the door behind him, polite as a properly raised Southern boy should be. Not that Faolan probably had much experience with proper Southern manners. Daryl only really displayed them when he was feeling contrite and there weren't exactly a plethora of Southern boys and girls among London's supernatural community.

He didn't sit down, though. He started to pace the way he usually did. Slower, still a bit agitated, but not in that angry stalking stance that emphasized the feline in his blood. One hand came up to his mouth and he started chewing on his thumb nail, gathering his thoughts.

"We been fence-sitting the last couple months. Had that meeting when the Nest made their new laws, but we ain't done much but keep to our own since then," he started off slowly. "Open season's been declared, sure, but we ain't really done nothing to protect no one. Even our own."