The Scene: An old theatre in the southern end of the domain. Designed primarily for the stage but with equipment and rooms enough to allow for cinematic films to be shown here. The stage at the moment is empty of props and set pieces, though the lights are still set up for the most recent production. The stadium seating has had every other row taken out and replaced with tables and footstools. The general idea of a comfortable 'dinner-and-a-movie' seems to be facilitated quite well. The seats themselves are arranged so that there are three aisles from the back to the front. A wider one down the center, and two smaller aisles up the sides

The decor is reminiscent of elaborate arabic motif, the walls being decorated with carved out landscapes of ancient Arabia, and the domed ceiling lit from above to resemble a skylight, a well crafted multicolored mosaic design illuminated from above.

NPCs Present At The Moment:
Prince's Harpy - Jeanette Lajoie is sitting on the stage comfortably, leaning back slightly with her arms behind her supporting her so that she does not simply fall backwards.

Daeva Priscus - Pietro Schiavone is seated near the center aisle watching as the night's events unfold.

Gangrel Priscus - William Nathis is in the back row next to one of the doors with his feet up, he seems to be taking count of who's coming in.

Event: At 9:30 PM exactly, whether you are all here or not(up to you) Nathis shuts the door and jumps up, swaggering up to the stage and says something to the Prince's harpy before guiding her to another seat. After some short words he turns and hops onto the stage casually, clad in jeans, a leather jacket designed to look like the American Flag with "USA" down the side, and brown work boots.

He turns and faces the assembled predators. "Ok, peoples, I know we ain't had a good old fashioned meet n greet gatherin in quite a while, at least a few months, so here's what's up. The Regent's gonna be holding court pretty soon, getting some new folks acknowledged and handing out some standing where it's been coming for a while. I figured in the meantime that we might as well give you people a chance to get t' know each other for a bit so you aren't looking at the people gettin their status and sayin 'who the fuck is that guy?' The Prince and the Regent'll be he here in their own time. I'm not about to give them a time frame but they said they would be here so that's that.

"So basically that's it for the now. Go, say hi, do your thing. And as a side note, this building is not Elysium though it is Masquerade safe, at least inside, and is my personal territory so if anyone decides to get froggy, there will be some not-too-nice talking tos coming to you from me or Pietro over there, so... play nice. That's all I got"

Nathis hops down from the stage and nods to the Harpy, escorting her back to her spot before he starts walking around like he owns the place(because, well, he does), checking out the new people.

"I thought you never took a night off," Ophelia commented as Angelina checked herself as out on the register. Angie looked up at her. She was a large black woman with no-nonsense eyes and surprising strength in her arms. If there was a tinge of snideness in her voice, well, she was the head nurse, and as such could get away with a little attitude, even to doctors.

Quickly, habitually, Angie ran her tongue over her teeth behind her lips before smiling. She knew in her head they looked the same as ever right now...but there was no forgetting what they could...would...become.

"Yeah, well...some friends of mine are having a get-together. If I didn't show up, they'd probably put a stake in my heart."

Ophelia smiled a little at that. Angelina's working graveyards in the coroners had earned her a macabre rep among the staff. If only she could be sure that the bit about the stake was not quite possible. Anders had been very adamant that the existence of a common foe, and a complicated culture, did not mean that...her kind...got along. Quite the contrary.

She regretted not having gotten out more now. Forged some more contacts in the undead community, perhaps. Gotten a more secure footing.

He'd warned her too about the 'taint.' Take it slow, take it easy...try breathing a little,' he'd said. Slow and deep. The body no longer needed it, but the animal in the brain still remembered being calmed by it once.

It felt like a long time now. Paradoxically, she also felt nakedly inexperienced. Even with finally getting the knack of fading into shadows down, she felt exposed and vulnerable.

Even so, Angelina walked to the address on the anonymous little card she'd gotten. Inside were people. They looked ordinary at first, but Angelina had new senses now. Sharp ones. Strong ones. They came with the teeth.

Her hand tightens on the doorknob as instinct rages out of the black hole at the center of her mind. FLEE. It also came with the teeth. FLEE! It wasn't so bad now...she'd been ready for it. It was kind of horrible, but she was even getting used to it. Sort of. It passes, though she knows she'll still be edgy for a while.

She picks a seat in the back, not far from the door. It probably looks a bit paranoid...but Angie doesn't care right now. In the gloom, she feels safer. A bit more...natural, if that word applies anymore. After a moment, she concentrates, and the old facade of a theater explodes into new details. Colors, edges, tiny granularities of dust in the air, and the various tiny motions of the creatures populating the hall all clamor stridently in her mind. It could be distracting as hell, but it was also pretty damn hard to sneak up on someone who's perceptual acuity had been amped up.

She hoped.

(Sitting in the back, in the shadows, using Auspex 1 to check the place and the others out.)

9:42 PM

One of the double sets of doors into the theater, halfway between the stage and the control room nestled just behind the last row of chairs, opened quietly. A dark-haired young woman darted around the side of the door and held it open for her regnant. Sir Robin D'Alsace glided into the room, dressed in tailored clothes reminiscent of military uniforms of several centuries old, murmured softly to her ghoul in French. The picture they made, the Daeva knight complete with sword at hip and the mortal page in her own pants and mock lace-and-tails coat, was uniquely appropriate to the venue. The girl flushed at the mild rebuke and fell into a subdued step behind the knight.

Robin makes her way to the host of the evening, exchanging the customary (if perfunctory) pleasantries of host and guest. She repeats this with the Prince's Harpy, showing the proper respect for Mlle Lajoie's position and accomplishments in the city. Lastly, though certainly with more genuine respect and pleasure, Robin makes her way to the side of Pietro Schiovane. Their dance of greeting for the night is much longer and involved than the other two had been, but then one expects such things of the Invictus. Through it all the young mortal with her stands demurely by her side and makes no sound other than the beating of her heart and the soft patter of her footfalls.

Bidding her Priscus and covenant mate to call on her if there is a need, Robin took stock of the room. She noted those she had seen at other gatherings in the previous year and studied those she did not recognize. She spoke softly to the girl next to her, "Karol, allez voient ce qui là est de voir. Rendez-vous inapperçu, et apprenez ce que vous pouvez. Ne l'offensez pas, et si vous trouvez un entretien privé, respectez." The page nodded and slipped off into the dimness of the theater.

Robin occupied herself with the trappings of the theater, looking regal if reserved. She stepped away from the stage and the officers of the city, making herself available to any who would wish to speak with her and keeping an eye out for young Kindred in need of guidance at this gathering.

A bit before 9:30pm ...

Fear kept up the spin in Adrian. There were many ways to lose a fight, his sire had told them, but no way was as sure as fear. He swolled down his worries and put his hand upon the door latch. Another deep breath and he pushed the door open. Coming into the room was automatic after that.

Adrian felt uncomfortable in his clothes. Black slacks, a grey shirt and black leather jacket ... they hung upon him. His boots were black and functional though - good for running away. He found himself standing there in the enterance a little too long.

Moving with false causalness, he moved down the central corridor until he found a seat about half way down. Adrian sat down and slung one arm over the back of the chair so that he could easily look around.

'Why am I here?' he thougt for the thousandth time. This wasn't him, was it? What was this all about?
Maybe he had done something wrong ... or maybe his sire's enemies ... or maybe this is just what they did to new vampires who didn't fit in ...
He didn't want to show it, but Adrian was very afraid.

Galiana had arrived early, taking a seat in the back. She liked to watch the other beasts enter the room, and it was easier for her to be passive and enter a nearly empty room rather than one full of vampires.

Not for the first time, she wished that she remembered how to take the form of mist, to turn into nothingness, or to flee in the form of an animal. But that was lost to the fog of sleep. She reminded herself it wasn't the first time; she had rebuilt herself once, and would do so again.

Her black skirt flared away from her knees, obscuring her legs. She wasn't ashamed of her body, or bound by the traditional clothing requirements of her faith anymore, but with the hajib she wore in public to hide her face, it was best to dress the part of a traditional Muslim woman. Despite her awkwardness with her scars around the Kine, she felt no discomfort among her fellow Beasts, and she pulled the cloth from around her face, setting the scarf on her lap.

She rose only to speak to those she had to speak to - the Harpy, among others - but she spent most of her time waiting and watching quietly.

Antoine sat quietly in the back, his fingers drumming a staccato out on the table, the arms, of the chair, and his own chest. It wasn't something composed, merely a random bit of improvisation, something he used to focus and calm himself. It was rare that he attended these events. Having come to the city nearly six years before he did his best to outright ignore the bullcrap that Kindred society revolved around. Indeed he had only joined the Ordo a few years ago because they presented a most tempting offer, the chance to transcend the vampiric state. If it had not been for that he'd have continued to glide through unlife like a bored teenager, with little to do an nothing but contempt for every organized clique out there.

Antoine looked around, he recognized the Daeva priscus, though he avoided dealing with his own clan as much as he did with the variou covenants. It wasn't a matter of anti-social behavior, in point of fact Antoine was well known for being a very social freindly man. Antoine had no head for politics and no desire to manipulate his way through existance; simple as that.

Finally he got bored and stood up, unfolding his massive frame from the chair he appeared to grow up out of the shadow. Moving forward into the light he made no effort to otherwise make entrance, there was little need for a black man over seven feet tall with the stunning looks and sculpted physique that could earn him a living as a model. He wore a suit of natural linen with a pressed black shirt. Despite his size, or perhaps because of it, he moved slowly, almost as through he were pushing his way through water. His every movement was slow and thorough, predicated on keeping him from stumbling clumsily.

Antoine scanned about looking for somebody worth talking to. Two women were lurking out back, hiding perhaps, or maybe just waiting to see who was who. Somebody dressed out of a fantasy flick had walked in not long ago; Antoine rolled his eyes, some vampires were utterly unable to change. There were the dignitaries of course, people willing to play the game, or at the least tolerate being cuaght up in it. Then there was a young looking vampire, dressing in black he looked more than a little uncomfortable. Antoine shook his head and thought, Kid you're already dead, what the hell do you have to worry about?

Resigning himself to a lack of worthwhile conversation Antoine decided that he'd at least speak to the Gangrel priscus, he felt he owed his host at least a word or two out of sheer politeness. He ambled over to the man and extended his hand. "Antoine LaSalle," he said, his voice tinged with a French-Creole accent, "Nice digs you got here."

9:58 PM

Double doors flew open with a resounding bang, and seven-and-a-half feet of Aryan poster child strode in from the night. Above kakhi trousers and a blue dress shirt that strained at each button from the musculature that fairly rippled beneath it, a gleaming smile shone bright beneath deep azure eyes and locks that seem almost wrought from spun gold.

With bold, confident strides, this Norse godling strode down the aisle toward the waiting creatures. And somehow, without the slightest hint of anything supernatural about him - not even the tell-tale feel of a Beast - at least a few of those gathered thought that this was a man whom they would follow to Hell and back if need be.

Then he ruined it all by talking.

"Ah yes, my fellows of the night," he boomed out in a baritone that could have melted even undead knees if only it said something else. "Sorry that I'm late; I had to deal with an evil-doer on the way here, teaching him a lesson in two-fisted justice."

Looking around and apparently undaunted by the drop-jawed reaction to his words, he continued, "So, my pasty-faced compadres, what should we do tonight to sink the mighty fangs of righteousness into the jugular of evil?"

Nathis looked at Antoine as he came over, half sizing him up half just mild interest.

"Antoine LaSalle, Nice digs you got here"

"Yeah I'm a fan,lets me do what I need to do, and they got a pretty good selection of movies if I get bored. Will Nathis, though I think I've seen you around before somewhere. Can't quite place it, but whatever. Good to actually say 'hi'."

He looked like he was about to start another sentence when the Crusader made his entrance, the doors slamming open, causing him to blink a couple times as the local idiot made his way into the room.

As Sam went on his speech, Pietro Schiavone visibly cringed and stared daggers at the Gangrel. "I'm going to strongly recommend, Mr. Nathis, that someone put a muzzle on your covenant mate before he says something that I might find scandalous and take offense at", indicating the presence of the Prince's Harpy as he spoke.

((btw, that door is stunning for all you Auspex people))

Through the doors that the giant tossed open walks a small, thin old gentleman. The old man is wearing a black suit with the jacket closed, white shirt, and a bright red bow-tie. He takes out a small cloth, and cleans his glasses. The old man sighs and moves around the giant, ignoring the comments that he heard come out of it's mouth. The old man doesn't give off the "air" of a predator. On his head is a black yarmulka and there are fringes descending from a vest under the suit jacket. The old man has a healthy blush to his skin, and he moves towards the Harpy and the Priscii. He bows slightly when he arrives before them, "Shalom. Sorry i'm late. Thank you for the invitation." Rabbi Berg then moves over to one of the seats and sits down, carefully.

As the first vampires began to move around, a change came over the young Mekhet. Composure settled over him and a small pad appeared in his hand. A pen appeared in his other hand.

Adrian began writing away while the others talked. Occassionally, he would look up at a certain Kindred and then write some more. A few words would be jotted down, a notation made, and a page would be turned.

The young vampire remains slightly hunched over his work, but will continue to write even when he looks up.

Robin had been musing over an odd tingling in her mind when the crusader of the Carthian Movement made his entrance. She might hate the Movement, but at least they provided entertainment for the evening. She looked the man over, her previous musings forgotten for the moment, and hid her smile of amusement after overhearing Schiavone's comments. She absently ran her fingers over the filigreed hilt of her sword, worrying at the fleur-de-lis pattern as she wondered just how adept this moronic mountain was at 'sinking his fangs in the jugular of evil.'

Karol returned before Robin made an impulsive introduction of herself and motioned for her regnant to take notice of a woman dressed in flowing black. "Sir, vous avez décrit une femme pieuse à moi par le passé. Est-ce que c'est elle?"

Robin let her smile slip through now, placing a hand on the girl's shoulder. "Découvrons, n'est-ce pas?" They strolled over to the figure looking near to be sisters, save one had a pulse and the other often forgot to mimic breathing. Robin's smile widened as the recognized the scarred woman and she held out her arms to her in a traditional European greeting. "Galiana! Je n'ai pas su que vous étiez ici; combien de temps ayez-vous été ici?"

Angelina half rises in her seat and emits a pained yelp when the door slams open. Fortunately she reflexively shuts off her expanded senses before the giant starts bellowing. Still rubbing her ears, she watches the enormous man deliver his monologue with an incredulous look that fades into a giggle.

Evidently there were a few things about vampires she hadn't been told yet.

She does note that people are going up and saying hello...and surprisingly the big loud one makes her feel more at ease. If they weren't falling on HIM in a blaze of fang and claw, she was scarcely more likely to be party to that reception, right?

So Angie comes forward out of the shadows and picks her way down towards the assembled VIP's. She's quite beautiful, in an unstudied sort of way. Her short dark hair is a bit ruffled still from the walk over, and she's wearing the jeans and olive blouse she wore her scrubs over, but with dark eyes under dark eyebrows, full lips and strong cheekbones she is far from plain even without makeup.

She waits for a pause in the conversation before stepping forward with her best polite smile and offering her hand.

"Angelina Rosetti. Angie. I got...well, I was invited." She nods. "Thanks for having me."

8 pm

Ashe had just returned from her hunt and dusted off her boots. She knew tonight was important and preferred having her thirst quenched than going hungry to a meeting of her kind. Hunger made her senses sharper but also clouded her judgement and tonight she didn’t want to be distracted.

Antoine was already gone. She could tell without seeing or hearing him. It was something that went beyond the mere five senses. His presence made her heart burn with fire and she remembered how it felt like to be alive again. His absence was different. There was this palpable hope that he could be just around the corner and it kept her virtually on her toes when she walked through their haven. She knew he left to be at the meeting on time. But there was another reason, too. He didn’t want to show up together with her – it could’ve aroused unwanted questions. Actually it was her idea. They would be better off as long as no one knew they lived together and shared their bed.

Court meeting thought Ashe as she contemplated what to wear. Everyone of importance will be there…

“Perfect”, she said to herself as she picked a dress from her wardrobe smiling to herself. It was a perfectly white dress with corsage which she hasn’t worn for quite a while now. The meeting seemed to be the right occasion for it.

Ashe took a quick shower and set out to make her hair and put on some decent make up. It was more like wearing a mask for her but the kindred society was all about masks and deceit. She liked the idea that most kindred wouldn’t think she was a Gangrel when they first met her. Ashe was proud of her blood and it never crossed her mind to imagine what it would be like for her if she was Daeva or Mekhet. Her looks and natural beauty usually put her firmly in the Daeva corner and she sometimes took advantage of that fact if she met someone new or unknown.

~9:58 pm

Time was running out if she wanted to make it on time and she cursed herself for taking not more time to prepare. She got carried away on her hunt and now she would’ve to pay for that lack of discipline.

Fortunately for her she didn’t seem to be the last to arrive. Taking advantage of the overall amusement after the crazy Malkovian made his entrance Ashe quickly entered the hall and waited in the shadows for an opportune moment to make her appearance. Once the first chatter settled she slowly walked down one of the aisles heading to the Priscii and the Harpy where she presented herself briefly and politely.

Addressing the Harpy she bowed again and curtseyed, “I would like to plead for an audience with you this evening. I would be very honoured if you gave me the pleasure of conversing with you later tonight, my lady.”

'I can't believe I'm giving up prime hunting time for this,' Adrian thinks. 'Still ... '

Seeing others coming up and presenting themselves, it feels like the time to follow suit. Adrian gets up and walks down the aisle, putting the pen and pad away. He has little understanding of what a Harpy is. He can't figure out if she will be of any use to him, or if he can find himself a useful spot with her, so he avoids her for the time being.

Likewise, the Gangrel is acting like a pushy thug who owns the place ... which he does. There is a strong aversion toward him and little impetus to overcome it. Pushy, arrogant, rude ... Adrian has had enough of that in his breathing days.

That leaves Pietro Schiavone, but there's not much to recommend him either. He's old, powerful, and Invictus. Adrian is young, weak, and not, but he's got to talk to one of them first, so why not. He walks up to Pietro. At about five feet away, he stops and gives a half bow. Presenting himself,
"Good evening Regent Schiavone. I am Adrian Moss. It is a pleasure to meet you."

Only as the words pour out of his mouth does he really regret not paying more attention to the lessons in etiquette that his sire tried to teach him. Isn't Regent more important than Pricus? Or is it the other way around? Too late now.

William
There is a momentary look of "I'm bigger than you, fucker" from the Gangrel as he registers Sam's presence, simultaneously hearing what Pietro has to say. "Dammit..." He looked over at Antoine for a moment and looked almost apologetic. "Sorry to cut this off, but I've gotta go take care of something before one of my Carthians gets dropped. 'Scuse me"

With that, he made his way very directly towards Sam, "Sam! C'mere. We gotta talk" He continued to walk directly past him and out the door of the main room and off into a side hallway.

Jeanette

Jeanette sat upon the stage looking out at the assembled Kindred, the attentive and yet aloof demeanor of a person who controls all the status of the domain very visible on her person. When Ashe came up to her, she seemed to focus in on her. As Ashe got closer it became more and more apparent that she did not have many of the simple mannerisms and subconscious cues that humans do. No blinking, no extraneous movement, not so much.

“I would like to plead for an audience with you this evening. I would be very honoured if you gave me the pleasure of conversing with you later tonight, my lady.”

Jeanette sat up straight for a time and nodded back to her. "I believe I can free up some time, what can I assist you with?"


Pietro

7Pietro took a moment to watch the Gangrel priscus exit the room and kept his eye on the recently arrived Ventrue, shaking his head disdainfully. Not long after that, Adrian came up to him and began speaking.

"Good evening Regent Schiavone. I am Adrian Moss. It is a pleasure to meet you."

"I'm not a Regent, I only hold this portion of the domain in trust until the Prince and the Priscii council select one. The city position I hold is Priscus." Pietro didn't even move for the first half of his sentence, his eyes still fixed on the Ventrue. His tone sounded less harsh and condescending than it could have, given the content. He sounded simply like he was informing Adrian, more like an instructor teaches a student and less like a socialite smacks down a foe. Pietro turned to look at him. "Adrian Moss, you say. Good to speak to you as well. So what do you do, Mr. Moss?"

Angelina stands where she is, hand offered out to no one, since he'd just stormed off to talk with Sam.

He didn't even look at me. Is that bad?

Feeling more than a little foolish, she lowers her hand and after a moment to try to maintain her dignity, she looks at the other two important-seeming vampires. They had their own conversations going at the moment though.

Well. THIS was a productive evening. So glad I came.

She didn't want to storm out in a tantrum though...well, no, she WANTED to, but she didn't want others to see her doing that. So Angie sits down in another seat to wait a few minutes before deciding whether to stay or leave.

A barely visible smile crossed Ashe's face and her eyes just widened a bit as she heard the Harpy's voice. Lowering her voice a little she answered, "I am sure that I can prove myself useful for you if you were inclined to. Every now and then some...,", Ashe was looking for the right words, "less gifted Kindred seem too oblivious of etiquette and the will of the Socialelite. I myself still have a lot to learn but what I do know is...", Ashe's face got a wicked grin as she finished her sentence, "Pain can be a useful reminder to avoid future mistakes."

"Of course, Bill!" boomed out the mighty baritone. With the smile somehow even brighter, Sam addressed the room as a whole - "Time for hero business; back in a flash!" - and the massive man swivelled on his heels to follow... to walk smack into a post.

A low groan, a series of creaks of protest, and a fine precipitation of dust fell down from the ancient balcony, and for one horrible moment it seemed as if the whole thing might come down. For a moment... and then huge hands grasped the pillar, steadying it with strength that had no business coming from something that had once been human. When the dust settled, everything still stood, and Sam's grin fell away to confused consternation.

"Heck of a place to put a pole," the giant muttered, and then - suddenly remembering why he had turned in the first place - strode off after his long-suffering covenantmate.

"My apologies, Piscus."

The question caught him off guard.
'What do I do? What the hell do I do? Oh crap.'

"I work the streets, Sir. I find things, people, and other lost or misplaced items."

For a second time tonight, the mad-vamp's antics caught him off-guard and his eyes flicked away from Pietro's face for a moment. At the same time he was wondering just what was to be gained from talking to the Priscus. He could see himself working for the Regent, but little good could come of him working for the Head Daeva.

He was beginning to think he'd made a bad choice in Vamps to talk to. This was an important guy, they had nothing in common, and he was really sure he was boring the Daeva to tears. What he needed was someone to come over here and take Pietro's attention away.

Galiana stood gracefully, nodding at the other woman and smiling. The scar on her face twisted and puckered, stretching grotesquely across the woman's face. "Robin, hello." Her English was as good as her French had once been, and there was a hesitant sheepiness in her eyes. "I'm afraid... I don't remember French anymore. The Fog of Eternity - yes, it takes its toll."

Glancing around the room at the assembled vampires, Galiana spoke to Robin without making eye contact. "I have been here since just after the turn of the millenium. Before that, I was in Afghanistan. When did you arrive in town?" Chuckling slightly, she added, "I hope you have not been here long, or else I shall have revealed how rarely I attend these events. How have you been?"

Robin's smile was understanding. She'd forgotten more than she'd remembered herself when she'd woken up. "Perhaps it is a reason to spend time together again?"

Her own English was still accented with French, no amount of time or fluency would mellow Robin's pride in her heritage. "I've been here longer than I know. I was moved here by a childe of mine while I slept; I've only been awake a year or so. I've been well, all things considered. I've discovered a strange fondness for airplanes, the little ones with the spinning blades on the top. Flying is exhilarating."

The young woman standing diffidently next to Robin murmured softly. "Ah yes, helicopters," Robin's pronunciation was only mildly stilted. She gestured for the girl to step up to them. "This is Karol, my newest page. She's been quite useful these past few months. Karol, this is an old friend and confidante of mine, Galiana." Karol bowed and whispered a few shy words of polite introduction before ducking back away from the center of attention.

Galiana smiled, fondly remembering the long decades spent as Robin's confessor during the Revolution in France and the first breath of Napeleon's reign. "Time together would be pleasant. I assume that you still remember the joy of the long, midnight discussions about God?" God, Allah: the switching between the names would have been unthinkable when she was alive. Now, it was just commonplace, a convenience in the midst of the Lance. Allah knew that she meant him, not the Judeo-Christian god, no matter what name she called Him by.

Her response to the flying machines was less pleasant. Galiana's first real introduction to them had been their use by the Russians in Afghanistan, where they had torn into her people and made it hard for them to hide. When Galiana flew, she preferred to do so with her own two arms - not, naturally, that she remembered how to do it at the moment.

Karol was a pleasant distraction from flying, and Galiana moved to the new topic without commenting on flight. "It is good to meet you," Galiana said, inclining her head a touch. Karol was clearly a ghoul - or at least she'd better be a ghoul - and it wouldn't do to show more favor than that. But as Robin's ghoul, Galiana had no doubt she was worthy of some small respect.

"What do you know about the city?" Galiana asked, turning to business. "Has anyone talked to you about the going-ons?"

Antoine nodded as the Gangrel Priscus left to deal with the large nordic man. Perhaps this evening will not be so deathly boring afterall.

Looking around Antoine noted that Ashe had finally arrived looking ravashing, had he still drawn breathe it would surely have been stolen away. Despute that he made no move to join his lover. She would be discussing politics and position, both things made Antoine grow weary justing giving them thought.

And so he stood for a moment, his foot idly tapping out a rythim onthe floor boards. The little woman in black was now having concersation with the the throwback to the middle ages and the kid was talking with the Daeva Priscus. Antoine then noticed Angelina standing apparently forgotten where she had been trying to converse with Sam. Antoine strode over, his purposeful gait and slow, precise movements making his appear completely casual.

"Good evening miss. I do not believe we have been introduced, my name is Antoine LaSalle." Antoine's deep rich baritone complemented his size and features well and his words came out touched with equal parts Southern and French-Creole accents. Antoine bent low and took up Angelina's hand, still hovering in mid-offer, and laid a gentelmanly kiss upon the back of it. "And you are?" he asked.

The older-looking gentleman gets up slowly, and begins making his way over towards Galiana and her compainions. He looks around the room, taking in the decor and the other creatures of the night here. As he arrives just outside the conversation between Galiana and the french-speaker, he coughs softly, not wishing to intrude, but making his presence known just the same.

"Shalom, Priest Galiana." He turns to the people Galiana is conversing with, and bows his head to them. "Shalom. I am Rabbi David Berg. It is a distinct pleasure to meet you."

"Rabbi Berg," Galiana said, nodding in greeting. She turned to the Lancea member and stepped to include him in the circle of conversation. "Robin, this is Rabbi Berg of my covenant. Rabbi, this is Sir Robin D'Alsace, an Invictus companion of my past." Galiana was clearly pleased to introduce the two Kindred to one another.

Taken aback by the newcomer, by the end of the kiss on the hand, Angie's grinning wryly.

Okay, he's got some charm. So did Dracula.

"Angie Rosetti," she replies. "I work at the hospital. Mercy General. This is my first vampire...shindig. It's not exactly what I was expecting...which is probably a good thing. Good to meet you."

Robin bowed respectfully to the Galiana's covenant mate. "And you as well. Are you and Galiana acquainted then, or simply known to each other through your vocation?"

The question was asked in honest and simple curiosity, her manner friendly if a bit reserved with a stranger.

Antoine nods in aknowledgement, "So you are new to unlife. The Requium I mean, a pretensious name no doubt thought up long ago." Antoine shakes his head an amused smile on his lips, "You'll pardon my attitude but I have been at this nearly a hundred years and still I have yet to find something more dry and crusty than a gathering of old vampires. Were there music I would ask you to dance."

Antoine pauses a moment as thought taking stock of if scene, "You work at the hospital you said? Drawing blood I can only assume?" He smiles, his white teeth like a ray of pure light from hid otherwise dark features. "I myself am a musician, though I find my craft has been drained of its passion since my embrace."