Cesare rolls his eyes a little and pulls a wry smile. In his eyes, it's pretty optimistic to think that Natasha can keep such a secret from Sylvia. She has too many hands in too many pots. He takes a hefty swig of his scotch.

"You think so? Nobody can take a fucking shit in this town without Redbright knowing about it." Though maybe he's just bitter. This has been a win for Islington, in a sense, but it's a bigger win for Sylvia. She's got exactly what she wanted: agreeable, compliant vampires. At least he's getting a promotion out of it.