To quote from Mascha, I give you: Senator Bogart. That little comment pretty much saved my night yesterday. The lady’s got potential. At least her humor makes for good stress relief. Two thumbs up for that.

Right from the start I had a feeling something was awry between Thomas and I. Later on that theory got confirmed by Jean and Jason. Only problem with that: Neither of us know what exactly bugs him so much. Sure, there are a lot of theories about, but we don’t really know what’s wrong. And, as usual, he won’t give an answer when I ask him. I’m thinking this is because of the letter I wrote to his little sweetheart. Admittedly I wasn’t very nice in that last letter. Then again she kept begging for honesty, so this is what she got. She probably didn’t even give him the real letter, just came whining. Or all of this is a new strategy of his. The man isn’t cut out for politics. And just as I wondered with Jason last night I’m not sure whether I’m doing him a better service by trying to protect him or by just letting him pick his own fights – while being fully aware that the latter will get him killed (if ‘only’ in a social way, perhaps).

They had this talk with Phelan. Turns out that, according to the reports that reach us, he sucks at being an alpha. So things blew up in our faces, masqueradewise. Jean asked him what he thought to be his sharpest weapon. And what is it the man replies? His wits! Honestly. I would never hire a Gangrel for being smarter than me. Usually they aren’t. Some of them may be wise. But that’s different. And rare as well. You have to reach a certain age to be wise, at least if you’re growing fur between your toes.

For the life of me, I still can’t figure out Rottenmeier. We talked for a couple of minutes last night. Sometimes she even makes sense in what she says. Of course she pointed out the obvious flaws in what people did wrong last week. But her interest, despite all those rumours, seemed genuine enough. She’s still creepy, mind you. On the other hand I don’t get the same strange vibes that dear Gwen gives me. And her brother in blood? Karsten is still being an idiot. Says that he did all this in order to make a name for himself. Well, fuck you, pal. Of course that’s a nice side effect. Then again, if that’s the only thing that motivates you it’s bound to fail some time soon. And it just did, which I think is very much thanks to you. I will not forget about this. Besides – when being a prick about etiquette, make sure you excell at it yourself. Last night you prooved that you don’t. So shut up about that thing. And whoever put the idea in Coraline’s head that she’s good at this? The woman couldn’t be more wrong…

Publically Wartenburg is now smart enough to stay away from Thomas some more. Whether that is because of my letter or because she finally decided to start using her head I can but guess. I flatter myself that I had my part in this. However, this was but one night. Might be things are very different by next week. People are moody around here.

Of course Jason and Coraline once more bumped into each other. Yet again over the subject of good behaviour. I never found out what pissed her off this time. In turn, Jason almost went ballistic on us. He did follow a poorly veiled order though. I should hope Coraline will shut up about this now. Seriously. He doesn’t need her advice. Why is it she’s too blind to see that?

At some point Jason and Mira came to me, letter in hand. Turns out Alessandro sent me one. More eye patches for me! This time it’s “Summer” and “Autumn”. They look great! Already I’m looking forward to fall. Right now it’s still summer time… I shall not forget to thank him for those. Curious to see what he’ll come up with for winter.

Learning is a big subject these days. At one point or another I’ll have to start instructing Mascha. It’s part of the way she makes a deal. Works for me though, as long as she remains reasonable. Right now I’m busy tutoring Doc Mertens. Once that’s over and done with I get to do some studies myself, receiving instructions from the prince herself. I’m looking forward to this.

So this leaves me with the Big Three of last night: Brückner, Jason and Jean.

Jason, while being generally unpredictable, still does his job and he does it well. It keeps bugging me that he won’t get the job he’s supposed to have for the time being, just for sharing my blood. I will try once more to talk the prince into reconsidering. But she’s not likely to follow my advice in this one. So he ends up frustrated over this. Can’t blame him either.

Most of the time people don’t like what others see in them. Our lady, prince Brückner, doesn’t want to be anybody’s idol. Anybody’s saint. Yet that is exactly what some people around here see in her. People need something – better yet, someone to believe in. If it’s a saint they want, a saint they shall get. I’ll do my best to make her our Evita. I know she won’t like it. I know that more often than not she’ll yell at me or whatever. But I also know that she’s not going to hurt me. Not seriously anyway. Otherwise she would have done so last night. It’s plain to see she’s growing tired, even in her rage. Sure, one night she might slip. Yet, for as long as she has the smallest hold of herself she’s not going to cut her own senate down.

Last but by no means least: Jean. Mascha and Thomas walked in on us, thinking we were about to kiss or something. I’m pretty sure they have no idea about what’s actually going on. But the idea was pretty amusing, I’ll give them that. He’s worried about me to a degree that would almost make me call him cute. Lord knows there was more than one occasion last night when I would have loved nothing better but to actually go ahead and kiss him. But would I be stupid enough and do that during a domain gathering? Hell no. Also, it would mean using his emotions against him in a blatant matter that would turn him against me faster than I can say “told you so”. Stupid me gave him the promise that next time he’d have to initiate the kissing. In turn that ends up with me waiting. Damn that! To love a Toreador… How crazy is that for a Brujah? A friar, no less?

“Is he awake?”, fragte die junge Frau den älteren Herren, der bei Nathaniel, der wiederum in einer ausladenden Blutlache lag, in die Hocke gegangen war.
“I do doubt it. He does appear to be sated.”
Die junge Frau nickte eingeschüchtert und konnte das Zittern ihrer Hände nicht verbergen. Schnell nahm sie die Hände auf den Rücken.
“We will have to act fast. He must not know when he wakes.”
Müheloser als es sein sollte nahm der Mann Nathaniel auf und trug ihn aus dem Zimmer. Währenddessen holte die junge Frau die Putzmittel. Kurz zögerte sie, der Blick gefangen von dem leblosen Körper auf dem Boden.
Eine Fremde. Belanglos. Jemand, der einen schönen Abend verbracht hatte. Ein paar Drinks zu viel. Selbst Teil eines Drinks wurde. Nur dass dieser nicht früh genug endete und nun Eltern zurücklassen würde, die um ihre Tochter trauerten.
Greg würde das regeln. Irgendwie.

Mit einem zufriedenen, gesättigten Gefühl das man in seiner Gänze so nur sehr selten kannte, wenn man tot war wie er, erwachte Nathaniel wieder. Als er blinzelte hatte er noch kurz einen roten Schleier vor den Augen.
“Dee?” Er ruckte hoch, sah sich suchend nach seiner Gefährtin um.
Ihre Hand legte sich sanft auf seine Schulter, drückte ihn wieder runter auf das Sofa. Die Jahre hatten sie stark gemacht. Stärker als ihn selbst. Aber das war nicht der Grund, warum er sich drücken ließ und sie anlächelte. “Hey. I missed you.”
Er lächelte hoch zu ihr, die Hände leicht zittrig. Als hätte er zu viel Kaffee getrunken. “Where’s that Melissa girl?”
“Oh.” Dee lächelte tapfer weiter. “I think Greg said he took her back home. Something about her parents and lunch tomorrow morning…”