Downtown, filthy as always, still with those puzzling men in space suits prowling about the streets. I was tempted to steal one of their masked hats but business had to come first, the Prince was impatient at best. "So," Beckett said in his wonderfully sardonic droll, "shall we go to this relic you spoke so highly of?"

I grinned happily, nodded and pointed to the awaiting tower with its suspiciously tall and slender statues. "This way to mystery, mayhem and princes!"

"Not for me," Kent said stiffly as he frowned at the tower, "this is more than close enough. I'm going to The Last Round; you can find me there after if his highness is generous enough not to stake you. I'm sure he will be though, one thing about the fiend, he's never dull with his punishments."

I looked to the dark haired Toreador with interest. "Speak of experience?" I wondered.

His frown deepened and he turned from me. "Forget it Malk," he grumbled before turning a look on Romero. "You should probably come with me, I doubt Isaac would want his Ghoul walking into a Camarilla tower."

"You know I am a big boy," Romero retorted dryly, "I think I can take care of myself for a while."

Kent shrugged. "Suit yourself although really I don't why you don't just go back to Hollywood. The Malk is as sane as she's going to be, which isn't much, but she doesn't need a babysitter anymore."

"I'm not a babysitter," Romero retorted calmly.

"A Ghoul, a zombie shooter, a grave guard, a sniper, and afraid of Tzimisce," I ranted off, tapping each finger as I did. "Nope, not a babysitter."

"Tzimisce," Kent repeated dryly as he continued to stare at Romero, "how would you even know what those ugly bastards are?" I felt his cool grey gaze on me. "How would either of you know about them?"

"Ah they are the masters of the bone and skin," I answered happily, "dark crafters in the night."

Romero shuddered. "Look I think I'll get to exploring," he said hastily before he started walking off.

"You and that foresight," Kent grumbled as he watched him go, "not that I care but you've upset him. Which I didn't think was possible really, hard to tell what's going on with him, and here I've always just assumed he's insane."

"I thought the Toreadors were all about compassion for humans," Beckett mused, "regardless, I really am pressed for time so if you could sort these personal matters out later."

I nodded as I too stared after Romero, had I upset the crypt keeper? I hadn't meant to, perhaps I should buy him a shiny boom stick as way of apology later. "To the power tower," I announced before leading the way on. "The night is a lascivious libation."

We headed inside where a familiar fat officer with the glaze of doughnut sugar shining on his lips greeted us with a wide smile. "Cupcake," he crooned at me, "it's been ages! How have you been keeping?" he queried happily.

"Oh fine," I murmured, "amnesia, dual persona fighting, reunion with siblings, that sort of thing."

"Er..." He paused for a moment and then looked to Beckett, unnerved just a little by his carmine gaze. "Who's your friend?"

"I am Beckett," Beckett answered.

"The great and wonderful hunter of relics!" I added on brightly. "Here to see Mr. La Croix."

"Ah, well alright, I think he mentioned something about that," Chunk mumbled, "I'll buzz you up." He hit the button and I led the way forward. As usual the metal detectors missed my sword, my keys, my marbles and the knife in my boot. I skipped to the lift, pounced in and was ready to press the buttons and marvel at the lights when Beckett stopped me with a gloved hand.

"I would rather you didn't," he said in his monotone manner.

"But the lights are so pretty," I mused, "like glowing eyes in the walls."

"Indeed." He pressed the PH button and up we went.

I skipped into La Croix's grand room first and was greeted by a ridiculously giant blade to my throat. "Good to see you again," I greeted the Sheriff with a salute from my head to the air, "it's Friday the Thirteenth isn't it? But where's your mask and what do you do every other day of the week? Do you get a decent wage for a once a week slaughter? I don't get much of a wage at all."

"Ariadne, isn't it?" La Croix spoke up sharply from behind his desk. "Ah and Beckett," his tone perked up slightly as the Gangrel arrived behind me. "She found you, good!"

"It was most difficult," I bragged, hoping to impress, "there were mad medics, schizophrenic Barons, nasty schoolgirls, deranged paintings and other night time nasties."

"Yes, yes...I'm sure it was quite an experience," La Croix commented swiftly as he stood up and started walking towards us.

"I did well didn't I? Do I get a cookie? Maybe a gold star? Or perhaps some nice green paper?"

"Yes, yes," La Croix dismissed as he stopped in front of Beckett. "Sheriff put down your sword; eccentric though she may be she is harmless." He waved one hand and the sword was gone and the creepy giant took a few steps back. Harmless? Well I didn't know about that, myselves and I could be rather deadly when we wanted be it with mind games, a hatchet or our beautiful fangs.

I turned to the blonde Prince gleefully but his gaze was still on Beckett. "A Noddist relic was brought to my attention," La Croix explained, "it's extremely old and it looks authentic but only you could really be sure. What I want to know is its meaning; I'll show it to you." He turned from Beckett and led the way over to one of his wooden cabinets. This he unlocked with a tiny, silver key and from within produced a small, steel box, which he sat on his desk. He opened this with another key and then out came a curious treasure of coloured plaster, holes that hinted of missing jewels and faint chips of stolen gold. It was almost ovular in appearance, thicker at the top end with strange square grooves around it and on it were coverings of what I thought was a man, crowned with points to indicate long teeth, and around him kneeling men dashed in red, blood.

"Curious indeed," Beckett mused before turning from it to me, "and just as you described it."

"What?" Sebastian turned to me with a suspicious, blue glance. "You've never seen it," he said in surprise.

"Oh?" Beckett looked at me, his feral eyes twinkling in amusement.

I grinned bashfully and murmured, "had to tell tales to get your attention, had to be successful this time to win the bone." I looked to the handsome prince. "I don't want to disappoint you," I said as sincerely as I could manage, "and I got him here, didn't I?"

"Yes but how did you...how could you?" Sebastian shook his head. "It's the curse of Malkav isn't it?" he grumbled. "It has tainted so many worthy, unfortunate minds. Despite it all though you do have your uses and I suppose so far you have proved your loyalty."

Beckett had returned his attention to the relic and was holding it up, turning and twisting it round as he studied it closely. "This is more than it appears," he mused, "authentic I would say but it's purpose, that is hard to decipher."

"Well it was obtained from a house used by those disgusting Sabbat," Sebastian admitted with a frown, "I'm told they possibly had other items as they fled with several possessions."

"Interesting," Beckett murmured, "the Sabbat certainly are known for their devotion to the elders amongst other things."

"Then you think it's related to the elders?" Sebastian demanded.

"A crowned ancient," I murmured, "powerful nectar through old veins, suck them dry, ascend and bring about the end."

"Nonsense," Sebastian scorned as he frowned my way, "where did you hear such drivel? It's against the Masquerade to commit diablerie and there are no antediluvians."

"Perhaps not," Beckett commented calmly, "but the Sabbat certainly think otherwise." He turned the trinket upside down and pressed against the bottom. "I think it contains something." He sat the item back down, unslung his bag and from it produced a soft, brown, velvet cloth in which several tools were neatly kept. With what looked like tweezers and a thin, metal stick the relic hunter fiddled with the item.

I grew bored and the rumbles of my stomach grew loud. "Are you in need of something?" La Croix asked me with a slight frown.

"A nice feed," I murmured, "something hot and sweet. Does the thirst call upon the Ventrue lord?"

He shook his head briskly. "No, thirst can wait, this is more important."

I pouted and frowned at the item. "The flesh eater would know, spider likes her old treasures, nice gifts to decorate the bloody hovel with."

"What?"

I felt Sebastian's suspicious blue eyes on me along with Beckett's curious red stare. "I can't open this without damaging it," Beckett confessed, "and I'd rather not do that, it is exquisite and very old. It must have a means of opening it, a key."

"Must everything old and dangerous have a key," I lamented.

"What flesh eater were you talking about?" La Croix demanded as my stomach growled again and I licked my fangs impatiently.

I smiled at him. "The one who is not called Pisha," I answered happily, "who plays nurse to film crews and also cook and diner." I giggled.

"Pisha? Ah yes the Nagaraja," Sebastian murmured with a look of distaste, "foul creatures, barely Kindred but we cannot blame one for something they cannot help."

"Doubly damned spider likes old things," I mused.

"A scholar like myself perhaps or just a collector?" Beckett pondered with interest.

"Maybe one, maybe the other, an interest in the occult, curious fetish indeed, like the moonraths' love for cheese."

"Are you suggesting she might be worth consulting over this?" La Croix queried. "I doubt she can be trustworthy, none of her Clan are, flesh eaters are known for their solitary ways and for never staying in one area long enough. I would say if she's a collector of artefacts as you say she will probably just steal this from us rather than offer insight."

"What about where you got it from?" Beckett questioned. "Sabbat who you say fled with other items, quite possibly the key if they were lucky enough to find it wherever they found this."

Sebastian nodded, placed his hands behind his back and began to pace the room in an agitated manner. "They've fled from Downtown of course," he grumbled, "but I don't think they've left L.A, I have Kindred trying to track them of course but there are other matters at hand that need dealt with and I cannot have my sources spread so thin." He paused for a moment and gave me a look I was all too familiar with. Jump doggie, how high prince? Volunteer and you'll be in for it now. Ah words of warning, so often the same as words of wisdom.

"You are proving to be a genuine asset," Sebastian addressed me in a kinder, yet still firm tone, "what would you say to doing a bit of reconnaissance for me?"

Ah that powerful way of speaking, he did not have Isaac's years and confidence and yet it was still somewhat compelling. I was tired though, my holiday had not turned out to be much of one, just one evening for sandcastles and I sorely missed my Baron. Yet I wanted to do good, learn secrets, be useful, to him if not to the paranoid number man. Sebastian would only confide in me if he truly trusted me. Shame to betray such trust and I wondered if I would, if I should. I did like the bossy aristocrat but then I loved Isaac, wonderful, soothing Baron, made the voices quiet, made the world shiny.

"Well?" Sebastian demanded impatiently.

I met his blue-grey gaze and found it oddly persuasive, I considered refusal and wondered how to phrase it nicely. "Hard to consider duty when I'm so thirsty," I murmured, "had to skip breakfast to bring the relic hunter here, didn't want to be late again." I smiled widely at him.

Sebastian glanced at Beckett and then back at me. "Let's talk in private and leave Mr. Beckett to study without distraction." He gestured to the double doors I had entered through.

"Bye bye wolfie," I said cheerfully, earning a wilting red glower in retort. I reached to link hands with Sebastian but he sidestepped me before I could, so I exited ahead of him and waited by the lift doors.

When he followed me out, without his Sheriff I was pleased to see, I immediately queried, "can we feed together? A proof of loyalty," I murmured the words he had used when we had last dined together. That seemed aeons ago now, how close we had been in that one moment and how nice it had been to see Sebastian act like what he was, a vampire.

"Not tonight," he dismissed, "you can go and feed but," he grabbed me tightly by the shoulders and locked eyes with me, "after you will go to the Sabbat. They have a stronghold in Hollywood, find it, find the key to the box and bring it back to me." His words were so strong, I wanted only to obey, yes I would do this, I would find the crazies that shamed the rebels. "You can take whatever aid you need, and I'll give you cash for weapons but don't delay and don't be late in returning, understand?"

I nodded and his grip slackened. He hunted inside his blazer pocket and produced a fat wad of green notes, which I eagerly accepted and pocketed.

"Go then," he commanded, "and don't fail me."

"I won't," I said chirpily with a salute before I danced into the lift. Once I hit the ground floor all I could smell was Chunk's blood, pumping just under his sweating flabs of skin. Ah such tender flesh, Pisha would certainly enjoy it. Mustn't make a mess in the Prince's pad though, wouldn't do well for relations. So I waved and ignored his calls, hurrying back out into the cool, polluted night.

Return to Hollywood and the Sabbat, well at least I would be able to see Isaac again, that was certainly a comfort. Although duty first, no tardiness this time, it would be like stabbing dwarf winged cats in a crate, easy peasy. I hurried through the streets, searching for someone pleasant to feed upon. I found a youthful man in a leather jacket and jeans and pursued him down an alleyway, there I attacked. His blood was savoury, a much craved delicacy on the tongue that made sparks shoot through my mind and Sarah's whispers grow a little louder. I remembered Kent's warnings too and pulled back before I had taken too much. I then patted the dazed Kine on the head, wiped my mouth clean upon his leather sleeve and then hurried on my way.

I was allowed to bring aid with me, must find Romero though I knew he would not go to the Sabbat, too many memories, and then dearest Kent. Was he betraying now? Had he whispered to the rebel master despite his promises? I pondered this as I headed to The Last Round. I passed the usual thugs with knives, Fat Larry with his curious truck of stolen wonders, the men in their strange suits with muffled tongues and my good rival, the Stop sign. I halted and gave a glower. "You stop," I snapped at it. No you. "No you!" I snarled back, determined to win the argument this time. Stop. "Fuck you sign, you stop!" You. "STOP!" You stop. "Well met adversary," I grumbled, "you are indeed a worthy foe. You stop!" I hurried on before it could get a final retort in.

The Last Round stank of smoke, vomit, stale beer and plots as usual. The sweet redheaded damn sail stopped me at the stairs with a hateful glower. "Didn't Nines make it clear you're not welcome here?" she snarled at me. "You can't be trusted, get the fuck out of here and go back to your prince!"

"Ah no use in going back where I have been, I must go forward, and yet back I suppose, to the starry land, oh what a curious contradiction, back to go forward, yet can't go back, must go forward," I murmured as I placed one hand beneath my chin thoughtfully.

"You are one crazy, annoying bitch," Damsel cursed at me, "just fuck off already."

"I am here for the poet," I explained happily, "we made an olive branch over sandcastles and kinky bedrooms."

"What?"

"Three names, Kent Alan Ryan, or is it Kent Ryan Alan?" I pondered. "Hmm KAR oh a secret message and I didn't notice! He's a car in disguise! Here to take over the planet!"

"Oh him," Damsel grunted, "he said he was glad to get rid of you. He's upstairs but don't expect much of a welcome. Kent hates the boot lickers more than the rest of us, if it's possible."

I shrugged and headed to the stairs, so Kent was actor and poet, and perhaps an alien car in Kindred form, well the deception best not be on me this time, I had been played fool enough. Upstairs the hard pounding music boomed a little quieter from the speakers, Skelter guarded the stairs whilst Nines, Jack and Kent occupied a table.

"Good evening," I called out brightly, "the deed is done, let's back to the Baron go Kent!"

"So you're still alive," Jack jeered at me loudly, "well in a manner of speaking." He let out a crude chuckle.

"So he didn't stake you then," Kent muttered, "well what did he do then?"

"Gave me cash and another mission," I answered happily.

"What now?" Kent groaned. "God forbid that French bastard would do his own dirty work."

"Ah but I am better with the laundry," I mused. "To the starry land, an adventure in the pit of Sabbat, looking for a key to a lost treasure. Must don my explorer hat and whip for this journey!"

"Well that's suicide," Kent remarked swiftly, "I hope you're not going."

"I must go," I said firmly, "first aid, then weapons, to the Sabbat, no delaying!"

Kent gave me an odd look and Nines growled out, "she's been Dominated. Exactly why she can't be trusted, she's vulnerable to that bastard's powers so willing or not she's his servant Kent."

"But there were no whips or chains," I admitted woefully, "the Prince is too posh for the dirty things. Ah not like Kent and the schoolgirl."

Kent frowned, stood up and approached me slowly, looking at me curiously and ignoring Jack's laugh and Nines and Skelter's puzzled looks. "Your eyes do have an unusual glaze to them," he murmured, "hard to say if it is unusual for you though. Tell me Malk, what if I say we have to do one other chore first?"

"No, no delay!" I snapped.

"Not even for sandcastles?" he queried curiously.

Oh how tempting but no, had to obey La Croix, had to make him happy. "No, after, after," I insisted.

"Yep, Dominated," Kent groaned, "well Isaac will just love this. What does La Croix need a key for anyway?"

I looked from Kent to Nines mistrustfully. "For an ancient relic," I confessed, "that Beckett is studying. What have you been conversing about here poet?" I demanded.

"Only that you think La Croix has a doughnut fetish," Kent murmured.

"And that we're done with you since apparently even in your madness you're not as stupid as I thought," Nines muttered. "Although working for La Croix and going into a Sabbat den is pretty dumb, which is exactly why Kent won't be following you, that and he can't get anything sane or useful out of you."

Ah no new treachery then, how pleasing!

"Well I'll take her back to Hollywood," Kent offered, he glanced over at Nines and added swiftly, "for Isaac's sake."

"Whatever, the Baron's a fool to like her, but I suppose it's a Toreador thing he can't help," Nines grumbled.

"We must find the crypt keeper and leave then," I said eagerly, "the grains of sand are falling, the tombs will be buried, and time gone from all but Chronus."

"Yes Malk," Kent grumbled sardonically. He looked back to Jack and Nines. "I'll see you both later, best to get this over and done with."

"Do what you gotta do," Jack murmured.

"Be careful though Kent, she's not Abbey," Nines cautioned.

Kent bristled at the name and I was certain it was a glare that he gave the number man. "Who's Abbey?" I queried. "Who? Who?" I bounced up and down on both feet.

"Thanks a lot Nines," Kent grumbled.

Nines shrugged when I looked his way. "You're getting confused Kent, I just want you to watch yourself."

"Is she blonde? Is she brunette? How tall? Glasses, freckles, oh and a love for ponies."

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Kent shrieked it so loudly I was certain he was heard over the rambling metal music. He trembled as he glowered at me but there was a sorrow in his grey eyes, yes even I could see that. "Just shut the fuck up," he repeated, quieter as the grief consumed the anger. He pushed past me to the steps and stormed down them. Still curious, I followed after him but he used a prickle of his Celerity to stay just ahead of me, not enough to spook the Kine, but enough to keep me running and yet still just behind.

Only when we reached the hospital did Kent finally slow and glance over his shoulder to see if I was still following. Naturally I was as loyal as a trained seal lion and firmly close at his heels. "Where's the corpse fucker?" he queried coolly, still angry I supposed.

"I'm not a corpse," I protested in hurt.

Kent sighed. "I know, I'm sorry," he grumbled. "It was a poor tasted joke-"

"Well now it was crunchy and perhaps a little too sweet but with some soy sauce and relish I'm sure it could taste delicious," I assured.

Kent showed a flicker of a smile before forcing a frown back to his handsome features. "Look, you need to shake off Sebastian's domination, I know it's hard, he's strong even if he doesn't look or act it, but you have to, the Sabbat aren't your regular Kindred, they will fuck you up Malk, I mean you mentioned Tzimisce, the Sabbat is full of those guys and Gangrel, and not the educated kind like Beckett, for his clan he's an exception."

"Sebastian's claws were deep in you," I mused, "ah but not just powers, mind tricks and charm, you believed, oh Kent you're a turncoat many times, you must be worn."

He scowled at me. "Fuck you," he snapped. He glanced about the street, contemplating speed but there were too many crowds, drug dealers, drinkers, teenagers, office workers, prostitutes, gangsters and what passed for average these days. "I'm only trying to help you," he snarled.

"I know," I said gently, "but I must go to the Sabbat, not just for his highness, though certainly it's important and imperative, yes, but the Baron needs the royal words in his ears."

"Not that badly," Kent argued as he flung his arms outwards and gave me a serious stare, "trust me; Isaac wouldn't want you messing around with Sabbat just to get information about La Croix for him."

I shrugged. "It will be worth it to paint pictures of ambitions, trips up gilded ladders to bloodied thrones, tearing the essence from dusty flesh, pawns and rebels in a clash and wizards at play, it's role play gone very wrong."

"Yes well, let's just find Romero already, we'll spend the day here and then go to Isaac, maybe he can reason with you."

"No, we must leave as soon as we find Romero, no delay, tardiness is not tolerated, shall get beheaded, and I didn't even steal the tarts!"

"Malk, I'm thirsty, I know you're thirsty, Romero could be anywhere in this place and sunup is in oh, six hours, it sounds like a lot but it's not. Please, just one day to, what was it you had to do?"

"Gather aid and weapons."

"Right, well think of it as taking time to do that and to recuperate, build your strength that is."

I nodded and gave him my own serious stare. "Alright, but no goofing off to banter with the love goddess or steal phoenix eggs or post leaflets about witch trials in Strauss' humble home."

"No problem," Kent muttered, "now come on, moonlight's wasting."

"Hey!" We both turned at the call and my eyes widened as a familiar looking redhead came running over to us. Ah but from where was this one familiar? Bloodied guts, insides on the outsides, oh but had one of myselves done a naughty deed when I wasn't looking? "I know this might sound creepy and all, but please don't blow me off," she babbled as she slowed before us and peered up at Kent hesitantly, "Someone told me I could find you here, I mean, I've been looking all over for you since that night."

"How sweet," I purred, "but that night we were only so briefly acquainted," I mused, "twas but for a mere flick of a chimera's tail."

She looked at me with a puzzled green gaze. "No not you, I mean I don't know you," she said to me before turning her stare back on Kent.

I looked to Kent too; the Toreador appeared embarrassed and was looking at the redhead with apprehension. "Fuck." Ah that wonderful Toreador eloquence all over again.

"Oh Kent bit the purple shrub," I realised, "ah but something more, oh a blood bonding." I pouted. "Romero said it was a bad idea, he forbid me."

"Good," Kent snapped, "is it a bad idea for you to spread your madness." He frowned at the pretty redhead. "Who told you where to find me?" he demanded.

She flinched slightly. "I...I asked around, a couple of students saw you get into a taxi with a woman in a strange costume," she eyed my cute cowgirl outfit pointedly, "and a man in a brown trench coat with red glasses."

"Tis not the glasses that are red," I interrupted.

"Well anyway, I asked around the taxis until I found a driver who said to go to Downtown, so I let him take me here and then I asked around and here you are. You're very handsome," she said softly, "people notice you."

"Well...I mean I suppose that's true," Kent retorted with a hint of pride in his voice.

"I want to...help you," the woman confessed with a small smile, "I owe you my life and, I feel like I need to repay you. Oh, I almost forgot- I'm Heather- Heather Poe."

"Child of the poet?" I pondered. "Then you must know of the treacherous heart!"

She gave me a blank look before shaking her head.

I turned to Kent accusingly. "Did you make and abandon yet another Ghoul?" I queried.

He glowered back at me. "No," he snapped, "I replaced a Ghoul a certain someone so rudely murdered but I was in shit with the same certain someone and I didn't think it wise to bring a new Ghoul into that so I thought to heal her and seek her out when things weren't so crazy."

"Are you talking in riddles?" Heather queried in confusion.

"Ah I love riddles!" I cried out happily. "Is Kent the lovechild of a sphinx? What crawls in the morning, walks in the afternoon and flies in the evening?"

"A bird?" Heather suggested.

I shook my head and laughed. "No a bat with a hangover!"

"Yeah, Heather," Kent addressed his bright eyed Ghoul, "from now on, try not to talk to Miss Crazy here."

"Yes, anything for you," she said in a desperate manner. "Let me help you," she begged, "let me stay with you...Make me feel this way..."

"Ah the new blood seekers," I commented, "so needy and so literal. Well she's not nasally and she has glasses, a vast improvement on Patty cakes."

Kent scowled again and I saw a dart of grief flicker through his grey eyes. "Heather," he spoke to the redhead in a soft tone with a hint of seduction in it, "I get that you are eager for the blood, and that you've been through a lot trying to find me and figure this all out, and I'm impressed that you did find me, and proud. I promise I'll reward it for you soon but right now I have an errand to run, so here," he hunted in his jacket pocket and produced a key upon a diamond shaped key ring, "take this, it's a key to one of my havens, in the Empire Arms, go there and stay there. We will be along later, before sunrise, I promise."

She accepted the key and nodded eagerly. "Yes master," she said quickly before turning and hurrying off.

"I'm going to tell on you," I said as I watched her run with a hint of envy, she could have been my pet.

"You talk and I'll tell Isaac you and Romero have orgies with Kine and Kindred."

"Oh Kent how woefully unfair and cruel, most unbecoming for a Toreador!"

"When I want people to know I have a new Ghoul, they'll know," he said wearily, "now let's find Isaac's Ghoul already."

He started walking once more. "If I were a mad zombie shooter with people issues, where would I be?" he wondered aloud sardonically.

"Kent," I spoke as he walked, "do you miss the fashion loving Ghoul?"

"Her name was Patty and yes, at times. I neglected her though, so it was my fault what happened, she got hungry for the blood and it made her careless."

"Why did you neglect her?"

He sighed and scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "She became vain, greedy and cocky and she wasn't...well she wasn't who I thought she was."

"The sweet, misguided pony lover."

"Fuck Malk I hate you doing that," he snarled at me.

"A lover of fashion, how Toreador," I mused. "Just like the Ghoul, more likely to name stars in the sky though."

"Stop it," he grumbled moodily, "I'm not discussing this with you."

"But the one between eight and ten did compare," I protested, "yet I do not like ponies, donkeys have bigger ears, much better, ah but the simple minds, yes we are like two chipped marbles in a lost pocket."

"Thank frig." Kent quickened his pace and I hurried after, just outside the grand gothic gates that led to the courtyard of the beauty goddess was Romero, leaning against a wall and smoking calmly.

"Grave guard," I cried out happily, "you have missed much! Plots in the tower, lost treasures, Kent's moodiness and his mistakes oh- forget that! He'll tell tales to Isaac of us, lies of group parties in the bedroom!"

"Er, right crazy cat," Romero answered calmly before taking another puff and looking over me to Kent.

"He can know," Kent grumbled, "he's going to meet her soon."

"Meet who?" Romero queried.

"The four eyed redhead," I said happily, "you said the poet would yap if I helped her but he did it!"

"Yap?" Kent queried bitingly. "I don't yap!"

"Wait, who?" Romero questioned with a dull eyed look of confusion.

"You'll see," Kent said, "in fact you can go and see now if you want, the Empire Arms, third floor, room number four, I'll give you the spare key. Can't promise she won't be jumpy, she's not expecting you but then you can handle yourself."

"We're going out for dinner," I explained, "but don't be jealous, tis just a meal among friends. Then sleep and then home to the green leaved and berried woods, and on to find the rule breakers and a key to ancient treasure!"

"Uh huh."

Kent produced another key and handed it to Romero, who put out his cigarette and flicked it away before accepting it. "I suppose if the Ghoul's jumpy and I shoot her, you won't be happy," the crypt keeper said dryly.

"You suppose correctly," Kent answered sharply, "you're older so you should be more mature, play nice and be understanding of her naivety to all this."

"Yeah, okay," Romero retorted dismissively, "I'll see you two soon, enjoy dinner." He headed off, walking casually in the direction of the hotel of ruling limbs.

Had to have Heather in this, such a devoted ghoul, don't know her dialogue is for Toreadors mind but oh well. I discovered that if you refuse to obey La Croix he dominates you into doing his deeds, strange since you're meant to be an all powerful fledgling and it doesn't take much to end him, and you couldn't dominate Therese as a Ventrue, unless your power is simply still developing at that point or, as I like to believe, La Croix actually is quite powerful he just prefers using others. Anyway, that's how I'm doing it here, La Croix is pretty powerful and though Ariadne wasn't refusing she was taking her sweet ass time to get stuff done so he decided to just cut to the chase lol. Think it also shows that their relationship is platonic at best, yes he'll feed with her but she's still just a pawn to him.
Little more development for Romero and Kent, mainly thanks to Ariadne's beautiful insight and some blabbing from Nines. Btw I do love Nines as a character but think he prefers to act before thinking and that him and the other Anarchs are too busy obssessing over the rebellion to actually take any real action or come up with a decent plan. Just my opinion of course, but he's still awesome.

Out of interest, any in game characters anyone would like to see, or see more of? I realise Knox and Bertram have yet to get appearance, think I did enough in Santa Monica though, that arc of the story ran its course and there wasn't a point to fit them in, not saying there won't be anymore Santa Monica action mind but not for a while if at all. Still, it's not like they couldn't leave Santa Monica, anyway let me know. As always thanks for the reviews and favourites, all appreciated!