You win some, you loose some. And sometimes everything just doesn’t add up. Getting ahead of myself again. Breathe, pal. One thing at a time.

Thomas is trying to be good. I can see that. But he’s not very decicive. I guess he calls that trying to rely on my judgement. So what am I supposed to do, other than flat out ask his opinion? Still doesn’t mean I’ll be getting an answer. At least I can respect him for trying. And me having overlooked something is probably going to boost is self-esteem. I’ll meet him tomorrow.

Von Stein was there as well. Boy, what an annoying type of guy. Of course he had to ask about our competence as senate. I gave him the best answer I could: Try not to bring yourself in any position in which you would have to find out. Did he really think he could trick me into being stupid enough to explain everything in detail to him? Why would I? He is the guy most likely to try and fuck me over through what I told him. Not going to happen. I really hope Mascha can and will go through with that plan.

Haven’t forgotten about that pack subject Jason, Mascha and I discussed and what Esther brought up about it. I managed to talk Phelan into meeting with me Friday next week. Maybe I can get some useful information out of him. Though I somewhat doubt it. He deserves a shot at it though. And it always helps to keep the Gangrel thinking you care about what they have to say. Doesn’t hurt to spend a couple of hours listening. If that’s what it takes to give them peace of mind.

Speaking of learning… Williams is an odd nut. Fast, by any standard. Doesn’t drive much of a hard bargain though. Maybe he simply likes me. What I know for sure now though is that he can’t make others like him just yet. It’s what he asked to learn in return: Get people’s attention. Get them off of your throat, if you have to. Basic stuff. Things his clan would know as well. If he were some sort of political creature I’d go so far as to say that it tells a lot about him and his relationship towards his clan that he names this particular price. Then again, I doubt that’s really the case here. The Brujah are just that. The Brujah.

A Ventrue elder was supposed to appear. Didn’t show up though. No idea as to why. So there was only this Gangrel ancilla he would have had in tow, all on her own with Dörr. For a Gangrel she’s remarkably interested in philosophy and politics. Not so sure what to make of her yet. I pitty her for having been Dörr’s arm candy though. Also, I wonder what he made of being hit on by a guy such as yours truly. If he weren’t Malkavian I’d say it confused him. The way he kept smiling though I think chances are high he’ll take me up on the offer one of those nights. Be prepared, I say. You’re biting off much more than you can chew.

Styx was present. He tells me he had to make sure that Greifenwald wouldn’t reach for the throne himself. So he graced us with his presence. Creepy bastard, that old man. Asked me whether I think he’s a fool. And I, truthfully, replied that everyone’s a fool at some stage. No matter how old. Curious. Most elders, I think, would have killed me for that. He didn’t. Instead he kept talking. This and that. The way some elders have to sustain themselves on other kindred – which was when he was going for my throat. He never bit down though. So would I still go down the sewers and visit him? Yeah. Doesn’t change where I am. He’s old. Could be everywhere. Could be standing right behind me as I’m typing this. So why wouldn’t I go down there again, I ask you? I told him that I needed his advice… And I do. Wish that I wouldn’t…

What cheered me up a little is to see Hope back. I can’t even say why the fuck that would improve my mood. She most likely still hates my guts! Anyway. Was somewhat comforting to see her. I hope her little talk with Jason resolved things for them. Also, I’m taking her out on a trip. Three nights, only her and I. That’ll be most interesting. If I don’t come back from this one: It was her, folks! All my fingers point in her direction.

As if to keep a weird kind of balance Raphael had to screw up AGAIN. And more. Rumours have been spread that Thomas is pretty much the most unreliable bastard out there. Not worth bargaining with. Not worth anything. And when you really think about it all that points to the Ventrue having spread the rumours. So I confronted him and his clan. Told the other two about that later. Not that they managed to make up their mind what they wanted to do. I left the decision to Thomas. Why? Because it was his fucking reputation. Seriously! Everybody keeps telling me I should let the other two decide stuff. But they never do! What am I supposed to do then? Just sit there and watch them stare at eachother for the next couple of hours? What the fuck. Well, at least I tried.

Which brings me to Jean. Jacques. Whatever. He spends the first half of the evening avoiding me. Damn you! It’s pretty hard to deal with a two centuries old virgin! Glad we’ve got that part covered. Anyway. So first he ignores me. Then I tell Thomas and him that I can’t have a say on what Rottenmeier did, because she pretty much did what I like to do as my personal way of art. And what’s the decision they so graciously make for us? N. O. N. E.! Well, crap. He’s an ancilla now. People will soon figure out he did that only to have some more pull over his clan. And once his clan figures that out as well it’ll be much harder to control them. In the mean time he’s still not getting his act together, which means he’s still not very willing to make decisions and lead. Yet he has to. Because if you lead without some spark that drives you (the prince said so – doesn’t count), you’re fucked. And you’re fucking everyone who’s trying to stick with you. Bleh… I tried everything in the book there is to kick him into action, to wake him up. None of it works.

So Mascha came up with an idea. She suggested that I drink from him. Once. And I admit to a certain curiousity about the whole thing. Bad, because I sure as hell know that some night I’m going to yield to that temptation. Might even be tonight! However, if she didn’t lie about it the first sip isn’t all that bad. Doesn’t mess with your head too much. So I’ll give it a shot. Might as well happen with someone I like. Mascha herself is… Confusing. Cold as ice in some respects. Next thing you know she knocks on your door, asking how you are because she got worried when you left. Her and I share our opinion about Jason, I should think. And I’m pretty sure she had that first sip from him. Probably to prove a point. Jason isn’t himself just yet. So it probably wasn’t her getting carried away by a moment’s passion. Anyway. What I’m trying to say here is that I’m somewhat thankful for her showing up at my place earlier tonight.

Jason… He tells me he’s not ok one moment – five minutes later he says he’s just fine. I’m not buying it. So I set him a deadline: Get this sorted out. You’ve got till december. I’m thinking that wasn’t very fair. Don’t think it can be done in that time. However, it is a challange. And he works best when under pressure. He also asked me about bloodbonds and how much it could compromise his professional life if he got dumb with Mascha. Yeah, well – whatever. It’s bound to happen at some point. Part of all of us is still human. And humans screw up. So the smart thing to do is taking that into account. Be prepared. But don’t try to fight it too hard. Because that’d be a waste of resources. I wonder what he really thinks these nights…

Zum Glück litt er nicht unter Epilepsie. Das war der Gedanke, der Nathaniel heute den ganzen Abend lang schon durch den Kopf schoss. Im Moment kam noch der dazu, wo zum Donner Dee hin verschwunden war. Eben hatte er sie noch auf der Tanzfläche gesehen… Aber er konnte sich so oder so nicht ganz sicher sein, was er hier sah und was nicht. Der leicht schmerzende Nadelstich an seinem Unterarm und das, was er dadurch in seine Blutbahn befördert hatte machten alles hier deutlich dumpfer. Und das war nötig. Unter normalen Umständen hätte er es hier sicher nicht lange ausgehalten. Viel zu laut.
Eine Hand legte sich auf seine Schulter. Nicht die einer Frau, wie er überrascht feststellte als er den Kopf verdrehte um die Hand überhaupt erkennen zu können. Der junge Mann hatte die rechte Schulter gewählt. Das zwang zu einer ziemlichen Verränkung. Langsam drehte sich Nathaniel seinem Kopf hinterher und sah in das Gesicht eines irgendwie südländisch anmutenden jungen Mannes, der ihn gewinnend angrinste.
Matthew. So hatte sich der junge Mann vorgestellt. Wahrscheinlich nicht sein richtiger Name. Aber auch egal. Die beiden hatten sich kurz und laut unterhalten und dann die fragwürdige Privatsphäre einer der Toiletten gesucht. Ein kurzes Vergnügen, deutlich beschönigt durch den Cocktail in den jeweiligen Adern.
Retrospektiv hatte Matthew wohl schlicht bemerkt, dass sein One-Night-Stand einfach nur high war. Ausreichend abgestumpft um sich keine Sorgen zu machen. Ausreichend in Partystimmung. Und wenigstens nicht so hässlich wie das, was man anderorts so alles fand.
Nie wieder unter ähnlichem Einfluss Kontakt zu Männern. Das war auch so etwas, das man rückblickend lernen konnte. Mangelndes schmerzempfinden einer Nacht und die plötzliche Hypersensibilität einen Tag später waren irgendwie doch weit zu kontrastreich, sogar für einen äußerst experimentierfreudigen Mann wie ihn.
Dee wiederum hatte ihm wochenlang Vorträge darüber gehalten wie dumm es gewesen war sich auf irgendeinen Typen einzulassen. Jedenfalls so. Dass das möglicherweise erste Anzeichen von Eifersucht waren kam ihm überhaupt nicht in den Sinn. Und er? Er machte sich doch auch nur Sorgen, wenn sie mit anderen Männern verschwand. Eifersucht gehörte doch so gar nicht zu seinem Naturell.
Matthew hatten sie tatsächlich noch einmal gesehen. Drei Monate später, gleiche Veranstaltung. Dee hatte sich ihn erst wörtlich zur Brust genommen, dann metaphorisch und ihn schlussendlich mit einem ordentlichen Tritt aus beider Leben befördert.