Arielle climbs from the back of the SUV, giving nary a glance at her ghoul's former property as it pulls away from the curb. Firing off a text message, she leans against a lamp post, impatiently turning the envelope Jericho gave her over in her hands.

Remy spots his mistress standing under the street lamp. The light makes her appear momentarily ghost-like. The Toreador's visage shows normal once she enters the hearse. The overhead light exposing flushed cheeks and bright eyes...quite lively for the undead. She settles into the passenger seat somewhat awkwardly as the ghoul smirks at her. "Not used to driving shotgun?"

Arielle flutters her hand at him. "Just drive, Remy."

Arielle opens the envelope once the hearse starts moving. She studies it's contents for a moment before giving a resigned sigh. "Well? Did you at least get what you came for?"

Arielle folds the note, placing in her pocket. "I've received no more or less than I expected to." A wistful sigh.

"Do you want to pick it up now?"

Recognizing the address in the note, she contemplates the likelihood of what she wants actually being behind the door. "No. Not yet." Disappointment is barely hidden in her words. "I doubt it's there. I can't imagine any of the council allowing it to stay."

"So, the Gargoyle lied to you?"

She ponder this. "Perhaps. Maybe he didn't know it would be moved. More likely, he was playing a game with me."

The ghoul tries to gauge his mistresses feelings. "What are you going to do, now?"

She shakes her head in dismissal of the question. "Nothing. Jericho had no reason to keep his word, I have no reason to retaliate. Besides, he makes a better ally than enemy." R

emy pauses, seeming to choose his words carefully. "Why don't you just make one yourself?"

Leveling a glare at her ghoul, Arielle replies: "Several reasons, Remy. One, my talents aren't quite that extensive.." she smiles, briefly. "...yet. And two, I'd rather not mutilate he living, given a choice."

"But you wouldn't mind coming into possession of something someone else has mutilated."

"What's done is done, regardless who created it." she replies, testily. " That was...a stunning work of art. Personally, I don't know why the -victims- were complaining. Their bodies could of been nothing more than rotting flesh and wasted bone. Someone took the time and effort to mold them into something more beautiful than most could ever dream of. Alive or dead."

The ghoul strives to make a point. "Then why don't you just..."

She cuts him off. "It's not in my line of work to harm the undeserving. Not when there's more than enough dead to work on." Both parties are silent for a moment.

"I didn't realize morticians were sworn to the Hippocratic Oath." Remy says, with a hint of humor. The Toreador rolls her eyes, but a smile flickers across her lips,

After a more drawn out silence, she speaks. "Don't head straight home. I'd like to stop at the studio. Pick up some supplies so I can work on Grendel's...rat." Arielle fails to hide the disdain on her face.

"Yes, m'am." Remy replies, fighting the urge to snicker.

She glares at him. "Don't give me that look. It's a favor for the Seneshal. Even if it's no true test or showcase of my talents, perhaps it will aid me in falling in his good graces."

The hearse stops in front of a nondescript building. Arielle slides from the passenger seat, as Remy slyly speaks at her retreating form. "If this isn't good enough, you can always sleep with him. That seems to work well."

In a blur of movement, the Toreador is back at his side. She wraps her hand around his fingers, a mischievous and slightly cruel grin on her face. His smile quickly falls to a grimace as her grip on his hand increases from pressure to pain. "Whoa, Ari...I was just..." he gasps a bit. "Joking! Do no harm, right? Right?" He flinches, but she releases her hold on him. No spilled blood or broken bones, but the ghoul's fingers seem fused together. Warped and misshapen. He looks at her expectantly as she once again exits the car.

"I'll fix that when I get back." she says, as she slams the door on his shocked face.