Cat's Call [Etreven/Ceri]

STRIP JOINT
LONDON
MARCH 14TH, 2012
10:15PM

It was thirteen days since she had returned to what may as well be called her "home city" at this point since it wasn't like she'd ever be able to go back to Wales. But that thought was as likely as her being able to dance at the moment. It was a regular evening at her place of employment, the old strip joint relatively calm at this point in time. Most were men still standing outside smoking, a few of them sitting at the bar or in their own booths. Mini, Grace, and Persephone were on their respective poles tonight, the stage absent of one particular individual that always drew the most amount of crowds in the run down place. It was obvious how their business was already suffering for that fact tonight BECAUSE of the fact that most remained outside.

There was one figure that was as distinctive as usual, except for a very different reason. Rather than shedding her skin on stage, she was propped up behind the counter on a single crutch, her hands shaking a drink before artfully removing the cap and pouring it into a glass with a salted rim and a single lime. The other bartenders were moving twice as fast around her, the pretty blonde still smiling and giggling at her gaggle of mens terrible jokes. They didn't seem to care about her injury, or the fact that she wasn't moving so fast. They just wanted another look at those perfect features, those blue eyes and cherry lips.

For the evening, she was wearing a pair of jeans, the cast covering her left leg still obvious and awkward. A single white tennis shoe was on her other foot, the top of her pants still hugging low on her hips while hugging in all the right ways to her body. Her mid-drift was still exposed beneath the short white tank top that was cut low and revealed the beauty of the girls. A tied off blue plaid shirt completed the look, only held closed by the fact that it was tied in a knot just below her breasts. The sleeves left her forearms exposed, the excess rolled up just above her elbows. Injured or not, Ceri would NOT not look hot. There was no excuse for it. Her golden hair was put back in their usual curls on either side of her head, blue eyes sparkling despite the painkillers she had prescribed for herself. Sareph may or may not have helped in the acquiring and prescribing of these things.

As she handed off a beer, the patron gripped her wrist and pulled her close, forcing her right off balance and into the counter. "Please tell me you are still taking 'customers.' I don't know that I can wait anymore baby." Ceri was doing her best not to wince, her crutch the only reason she didn't have any weight on her foot despite being tugged so. Hopping up on her one foot, a hand slid up his chest and wrapped about his hand, unclenching his fingers from her body. "Well lets see how the evening progresses, huh sugar? Some… finesse is required now." She whispered in his ear, flashing one of the bouncers a look as she turned away to go help some other customers on another section of the bar. Was she taking customers? Yes. But ONLY those who were being respectful and she knew would be careful of her fragile leg. One of the men came up and quietly escorted the man out, everyone grateful for the simple fact that he didn't put up a fight. He only looked sadly back at her, but she didn't even look his way. She couldn't afford to set her healing time back any further than she already knew it was.

It was footsteps in the night.  Not creeping, not hiding in shadows, just a man treading a less than often travelled path traversing the nightscape of London.  He'd been in town for two days so far and it sufficed to say that those two days had been very, very productive.  It might not have turned out that way, given the way the board had been set at the start, but knowledge that unpleasant outcomes were a possibility did not in any way mean that he'd expected them.  Very much the contrary, with few exceptions every piece of the plan was falling into place.  Each action the setting of a domino.  And when the time came?  The flick of a finger would be all that was needed to set the construction underway, each contact setting off the next until in the end…

But that was another story entirely.  Tonight was about recruitment, conversation and leverage.  He had a quarry to hunt down and the night was as yet so very, very young.  As he rounded the corner onto the busy commercial street, he was reminded of a similar scene not so long ago.  Instead of a drab, rainy London evening it had been a similarly dispositioned night in Hong Kong.  More to the point, it had been a night on which he had been summoned and not the other way around.  But whether a dance club or a strip club, the difference in turf mattered more for the other party than for Etreven.  Still he wondered whether or not the butterfly knew the extent to which her actions had set him in motion.  He had known Ymir was hiding things from him.  Great, important, vast secrets.  And he had believed it was only a matter of time until he'd cracked into them.  But it was the butterfly who set him on this current track and if nothing else, he had to thank her for that.

His rain coat was close fitting, black on black and cut in a style that would have made a 1950's ad executive proud.  His calf high leather boots gently splashed in puddles as he made his way to the bouncer at the front of the club.  The military angle was all wrong here and he was present instead in his civilian best.  Skinny cut black jeans and an off white button down, high collared and form fitting.  The grey felt fedora was a particularly nice touch.  He looked for all intents and purposes like he was a person trying to avoid recognition (which was precisely the impression he intended to give).  Navigating deftly through the busy street, he cut forward and approached the bouncer, passing the customary 20 pounder as he made his way inside.

The club itself reminded him in many ways of the older military offices in Moscow.  They were old, well worn, appointed for the period in which they were built.  And yet despite the extent to which the decor might have been dated, the place was alive.  Something about lived-in places seemed to accumulate a very different sort of energy to other sorts of locations.  Etreven ingested the information and began to draw conclusions about both the place itself and the people in it (working and patronizing alike).  His quarry in particular was not difficult to spot.  He knew she'd be injured, and by all physical descriptions she'd be generally very distinctive.  Indeed there she was, tending bar and generally managing to attract just as much attention as she might have in substantial less clothing and at the center of the spotlight on stage.

It was impressive, the degree of control she commanded, despite the lack of will she needed to exert in order to exert such command.  Another useful data point, filed in the back of his head as he strode right for the bar.  His mask was one of exasperation, fatigue, perhaps a business man tired at the end of a particularly rough week.  As he sat down on the stool he shook himself, a false gesture but one that fit the image he was cultivating.  The fedora came off shortly after the jacket, and as soon as he managed to grab the girl's attention (with a slightly flippant gesture and a raising of the eyebrows), he spoke to the bartender, the very girl he was there to see.  "Single malt, neat, anything you've got really.  For this one, care needed to be taken not to push her into her shell.  But if all else failed, he always had an ace in the hole…

At this point in time, she almost felt some sort of longing that she could have killed the bastard that had made her an invalid for so long herself, but then… Her lips tightened slightly as she thought of what had followed that night and shook her head slightly, golden curls bouncing about her shoulders at the motion. No. Not now. Now was not the time for that. Some people might miss someone that they could consider a significant other, or tied to them somehow. Ceri? Not so much. She knew that she would see him again at some point in the future, it was just how the natural law of things were going to happen. But how long will it take? Ceri's gaze twitched towards the left at Mordreds voice within her mind, Lilith only letting out a laugh as the mortal poured a beer for another customer. Oi. If only there was a way to reprimand either of them for their comments, then she would do so within a heartbeat.

But a man came stumbling in, not from previous beverages, but clearly exhaustion. All three bartenders blinked at the sight of him, but considering he had landed closest to her, Ceri was the one that walked towards him with her sweet little smile. He was a pretty one, wasn't he? What was it about her life and finding ALL of the pretty men? Clearly you just have the best luck dearie. Mmm. Well that was a thought killer as it was Mordreds turn to chuckle. No, her torments would never end it would seem.  "Single malt, neat, anything you've got really. Her smile twisted up to a little smirk instead, placing a glass down on the counter as she turned back towards the literal wall of bottles. "Comin' right up sugar." Her hand twitched right as she reached for the bottle, Mordred stiffening up within her mind to the point where she actually could feel it within her. What?

Her hand snatched up one of their best whiskeys, the Child of Pride within her refusing to answer her simple question. He had NEVER done that, ever. Not in Inferis, and certainly not to this extent on earth. Turning back around, she fixed up his drink quickly and slid the glass towards him with a warm expression. "One neat, single malt for the man after a long day. What happened sugar? If you don't mind me askin that is." She spoke, appearing demure all the while trying to focus on what was going on with her demons. Even Lilith twitched, and that had to mean something… So those sparkling blue eyes observed this new customer with the same pure interest as before, but her motivations were now far different considering. Who WAS this man to cause such a stir to her demons? Was he an Archdemon in disguise (God she hoped not…)? Or was this another Ritualist?

Etreven had barely gotten settled into his seat at the bar, barely gotten out the words to his order before his head practically shook with laughter.  Ymir was…unusually present.  More often than not the great demon was content to ride as a mute passenger, and sometimes he wasn't present in the man's mind at all.  It was a phenomena he frequently chalked up to the rather…complex nature of their particular possession.  But all in all, it simply meant that the patterns of Ymir's behavior were generally a known quantity, and when they deviated?  It was often telling.

The girl before him, a veritable caricature of most men's ideal woman, spoke her reply to Etreven, but he was unable to hear over the roaring laughter pounding in his head.  That large, booming presence that often spoke so softly?  He knew the heights of power and command his voice held, but had never felt so much of it inside of him at once.  Etreven wasn't capable of feeling terror.  In fact he wasn't capable of feeling much at all.  But he was very much so capable of feeling pain, and what had begun as an uncharacteristically aggressive response from his demon had turned into an absolutely crushing migraine.

For a few moments it simply felt like his head was caving in.  A rush of red and black swept into his vision like a flood and he staggered in his seat.  All semblance of persona was abandoned as he fought to keep himself upright, a losing battle at best as his consciousness raged against the pain.  Ymir's laughter had faded to a disapproving chuckle, and the demon was both disappointed and amused in his host.  The fact that Etreven was predisposed to these migraines was well known to both of them, but for the first time it had been actively triggered.  And in the middle of an operation no less.  It was an absolute liability, but he was too crushed under the pain to notice.

Somewhat more problematic at the moment was the rapid approach of the ground.  Head clutched in his hands as the pain overtook him, he was unable to even hold out his hands to blunt the fall.  Ymir hoped for Etreven's sake that the ground below him was carpeted…

The pretty woman's brows furrowed as she watched him for his response, noticing how his eyes almost seemed to glaze over. She had seen a look like that before, but in some vaery different situations than these, and usually nefarious drugs were involved (dammit Sareph). At least it meant that she could recognize the signs. AT the same time…. he didn't possess any of the other tell-tale signs except for the exhaustion, but considering his appearance, it was highly unlikely that it was drug related. "Sugar?" She asked as the man's expression changed entirely, his hands clutching at his head in what seemed like pain. The other two bartenders had stopped what they were doing and were watching the man, then her while patrons were also beginning to notice the small scene.

"Hey, sir… Do you need-- Denny!" She called as she saw the man moving from side to side, the man at the end of the bar looking up at the call of his name. Mordred was clutching tightly at her chest, but she paid him no mind as she reached forward just as the man began to tilt off of his chair. "DENNY." She barked as he instantly leaped to his feet and lunged over, catching the customer just before his head hit the ground. She was already hobbling around to the front, curls bouncing with each motion as she slid (a bit clumsily) to the floor beside him with her injured leg stretched laying out of the way. Denny carefully laid the man on the ground, Ceri's hand reaching out to gently touch him on the shoulder. LEAVE HIM BE. Her hand twitched, but she did not move, her fingers rubbing reassuredly against him. "Maya, you got any idea what the bloody hell is going on?" She bit her lower lip and shook her head, her other hand sliding for her cell phone in her pocket.

"Not a single one." She murmured quietly before waving Denny back. "Sir? Sir, should we take you to a hospital?" Is this a rejection? No. He is well-settled with his demon. But- You recognize the presence. She heard the two of them quiet as she glanced to the other patrons and waved them to go back to their drinks, a pouting frown taking over her normally bright features. I do. Then who is he? Only silence greeted her as she turned her attention back onto her customer. Her frown deepened as she pulled out her phone and began to dial for an ambulance, not exactly sure what else she could do for him. It wasn't like she had customers keel over like this that often.

Where the hell was he?  What was this, some kind of blackmail attempt?  He'd been through this before.  His god forsaken brother had tried it a few years back and if this was another of his schemes…familial one-upmanship was one thing but kidnapping and blackmail was beyond low brow.  He thought better of the man.  He thought…what did he think?  It was all very hazy, but smashing into the front of his mind in waves.  Then the pain rushed in and it was all anger.  Absolute seething rage.  Well now, isn't this interesting?  His eyes shot open as he took in a heavy gasp of air and shook himself.  A bar?  What in the ever-loving fuck was that voice in his head?  Very, very interesting.  But not even remotely helpful…

He shivered and put a hand to his head.  The whole length of his spine hurt and his temples were…well, he wasn't sure.  Honestly he couldn't even remember his name.  Somewhere in the back of his head he felt something cold and empty staring at him across a void of…rage?  It was a discomforting feeling.  And he felt pulled towards it, that dark space in his head.  A hand to his temple, his head shaking, an arm pushed behind his back.  What was his name?  Ev……z…no.  It wasn't there.  His senses were woozy but he pushed himself to his feet.  Another shake of the head.  Another closed-eyed glimpse at something inside himself…and that voice.  Be careful.  I'd prefer you alive.  It was…terrible.  And reproachful?  It was hard to know.

What he did notice was his suit.  His stature.  The bar…no.  Not a bar, a strip club.  For a moment…blackmail was still a possibility, wasn't it?  But he could barely remember why.  Something about a brother.  And his office?  Why hadn't his secretary called to check in with him and…what was her name?  It was all a blur.  But this was a moment he couldn't embrace.  It wasn't…right.  In front of him was a tall, short haired man and a girl with the cutest ringlets…..injured was she?  He couldn't put his thoughts together.  Barely heard her words, as if they were some kind of bizarre gibberish.  He placed a hand out for aid, feeling unsure he could remain standing under his own power.  "I'm so sorry.  I don't know what's happening…would you mind helping me to a chair?  I think I just need to sit for a moment."

Ceri leaned over him a little more as she held her phone, pausing as she watched him stir. He was moving, his hands lowering from his head as he blinked and looked all around their establishment in what seemed like confusion. Her brows furrowed, but she only slipped her phone back into her pocket to focus on the man that was crouched and shivering in front of her. "S…sir?" She asked him quietly, her hand sliding from his back to his arm as she leaned to stare up at him. Well now, why do YOU care so much hm? Not now Lilith. The demoness wasn't wrong, she did actually care what was going on right now. She was actually…. worried.

He was looking at her now, reaching out a hand which Denny took without a word, helping him up as she used a barstool to get herself onto her feet once more, her crutch secure beneath her arm. "Je mi to tak líto. Nevím, co se děje ... nevadilo by vám, že mi pomohl židli? Myslím, že stačí sedět na chvíli." Both of them blinked and just stared at him. What? What…. what LANGUAGE was-- Czech. He's apologizing and asking to sit down. He's apparently confused. Ack. Mordred's voice caught her a little off guard within her mind, but her lips only tightened more as Denny whispered, "The bloody hell…?" "Shut up Denny and help the man sit down. We can figure out what's going on when we find a common language or something." She whispered to him, gesturing towards the barstool as she took the one beside him.

She winced slightly as she sat, but she quickly replaced it with a easy, warm smile. Ok…. So Czech… It was sort of shitty this wasn't Inferis otherwise Mordred could just directly translate for her. She placed a hand on her chest, "Maya Hammond." She then gestured to him and appeared inquisitive. It was an attempt to at least get his name so she knew what to call him as opposed to just "sir." This was not a situation where simple "sir" was going to suffice. She repeated the tap to her chest and her name a couple of times until he seemed to understand her, the smile on her perfect lips growing at the sight of it. Ok good… progress could be made… slowly.

It was still a bit of a blur all around him, but things were gradually coming into focus.  For one he managed to actually get a clear view of the pair before him.  The tall young man didn't appear particularly interesting even as his hand helped him to his feet.  As he settled into one of the bar stools, the young man's face spoke mostly of someone who would prefer to go back to his daily tasks and not deal with a man who, for all he knew, was in the process of kicking the bucket.  The girl on the other hand…she spoke quickly and in a muted voice to that young man.  Urgent, but reasonably gentle.  It was a soft, bouncing sort of voice that was memorable to say the least.  It took a few moments before he finally realized, "…..when we find a common language or something."  She was speaking English!  God, he was slow right now.

The golden haired girl took the stool next to his, obviously in some degree of pain (although she was taking lengths to hide it).  She was radiant, even in a cast, but although he'd seen his share of stunning women in his time, few of them exuded that casual warmth even through pain and concern.  The question of what had her working in a place like this came to mind, but more important things were flooding through him even as he looked at her.  There was that voice in his head for one, absolutely disconcerting (even terrifying) but he couldn't be sure it was anything more than a decaying mind.  He wished desperately he could grip onto a shred of self, something to give him a grounding about where he was.  What he was.  But the thoughts and memories came only in drips and drabs.  This girl was reminding him of Karolina Kurkova…but that name faded out of his thoughts quicker than he could grab at it.  He knew he didn't belong here, there was an overriding sense of that.  But so far that was about all.

Luckily the headaches had begun to subside, which meant that as uncomfortable as he'd been, at least he could focus on the world around him.  The girl who'd just sat beside him placed a hand on her chest before slowly reciting her name.  "Maya Hammond."  She was gesturing to him like he was some sort of lost tribesman, clearly asking for his name in a way that skirted the language issue.  Well damn, he'd asked for help in Czech and this is what he got for it.  He'd have put a palm to his face if he had the energy for it.  Even with that….even………Evžen!  That was his damned name.  "Evžen Vacek.  Sorry, didn't realize you were speaking English.  I don't…exactly know where I am.  Which is…where exactly?"[/i]  In the back of his head, the thing he half imagined wasn't speaking.  It was just grinning, and he felt that grin as a frightening tingle down his spine.  And somewhere behind that, rage burned...

Alright.  So.  How often had she had to deal with people that didn't speak her language before having Mordred in her head.  That… would be never.  Well shit.  Denny moved away as the two began to converse, all general attention moving away from them while the other two bartenders seemed almost relieved of the fact that she wasn't in the way anymore.  Whatever, neither of them made as much as her ever so they could go find a pity fuck for all she cared.  Right now, she had a potential amnesiac business man that had literally triggered both of her demons hard.  Except he hardly acted like any Ritualist she had ever met (not that she particularly behaved like one either).  She was starting to believe this man wasn't tied to, or was a disguised, archdemon because they would NOT behaved this confused ever.  Not unless they had telepathy and seriously wanted to throw her off.  And if she got any senses that really made her nose twitch?  Eject and gtfo.  Simple as that.  

The man seemed far more comfortable as they sat there, her introduction finally clicking as he smiled at her.  She almost felt bad for having such a fake expression on her features right now even if the intentions were legitimate.  Mostly.   "Evžen Vacek."  She mentally exhaled as her features relaxed, glad to at least have a name even if she might end up butchering it.  "Sorry, didn't realize you were speaking English.  I don't…exactly know where I am.  Which is…where exactly?  Wow.  This guy must have really hit his head or have been high as a kite (less likely.  Nobody came down that hard and fast).  Who WAS this guy to have been so confused?  Mordred was humming thoughtfully to herself as Lilith shrugged and was paying attention to the other potential customers that they may be able to wrangle in that night.  

She waved a hand to his apology, "No its ok.  I'm sorry about speaking all slow and stuff.  I must've sounded a little bit like an idiot.  Wasn't sure if there was going to be a common language!"  A light little giggle escaped her as her demon fell quiet once more having settled on… whatever it was he was pondering. Mind sharing with the class?  Silence.  Thanks guys.  The music changed around them, not that she even seemed to notice, the entirety of her focus upon the man in front of her.  "You're in London sugar.  In a sad little strip joint thats been here as long as the dinosaurs.  Least I like to say so."  She giggled again and leaned a little forward with her sparkling blue eyes, "So where are you from?  I didn't recognize what language you were speaking in at all earlier, but it sounded slavik or something."   It wasn't like she'd had a great formal education or anything.  Watch yourself.  There is more going on than you realize.  Well no shit, and he wasn't exactly being helpful in dispelling what the fuck that might be.  But at this point, she was realizing this was what was going to be a part of her daily life. "For that matter, do you remember how you got here? You came stumbling in as if you'd had a long day of work. Asked for a single malt neat." She pointed towards his glass that was still sitting there calmly on the counter.

The last hints of the fog of war that had trailed his vision had finally receded.  The strip joint was clear and its sights, sounds (and smells) were finally being processed in a way he could handle and think about clearly.  For a few moments he just sat listening to the girl, repeating her name to hold it in his memory.  Maya Hammond.  It repeated, background to the girl's words.  "No its ok.  I'm sorry about speaking all slow and stuff.  I must've sounded a little bit like an idiot.  Wasn't sure if there was going to be a common language!"  He let out a laugh, legitimately amused, and joined in with the girl's giggle.  It was strange though, like humor was a door with rusty hinges that hadn't been opened in ages.  Almost discomforting to slide back into.  But it was there and it was honest.  Cute and funny, not the kind of package that he expected to find in a place like this at the end of the day.  She had to have an angle of some kind…

Old thinking.  Old lines of reasoning.  He could remember the ways he'd assume the worst in people, but he couldn't quite grasp why.  Images of rows of seated, suited men and proper, aging women flashed as context but he simply couldn't keep it all straight.  His mind was grasping at straws that should have been there but weren't.  It was disconcerting…but at least the pleasant company was distracting.  He even rather enjoyed the momentary reprieve from the pounding electronica as the bar's music shifted into blues for a few moments.  12 bar.  Something stateside, maybe Chicago style.  Another piece of a memory he couldn't quite grip…

"You're in London sugar.  The look of shock on his face probably said enough.  Certainly managed to break him out of the internal loop his mind had been stuck in.  He was definitely not where he expected to be, which left a whole lot of explanation to be had.  You're here because you planned to be.  This young woman is your quarry.  How sad that you seem to have forgotten just why.  The voice was amused, and oh so very loud.  But he hadn't the slightest idea what it was trying to say to him.  He thought about trying to respond for a moment…but the blonde had caught his attention.  "In a sad little strip joint thats been here as long as the dinosaurs.  Least I like to say so."

At least the honest humor was comforting.  And those blue eyes were something else.  Very much his type, if he could remember exactly what that meant in the context of his life.  He had the feeling he'd seen his share of eyes like this before.  "So where are you from?  I didn't recognize what language you were speaking in at all earlier, but it sounded Slavic or something."  His brow furrowed.  "I…"  A moment ago he'd have been ready to say he had no idea…but suddenly the dots connected.  He cleared his throat and thought again a second as the girl continued.  "For that matter, do you remember how you got here? You came stumbling in as if you'd had a long day of work. Asked for a single malt neat."

Evžen's eyes turned to the dark gold liquid in the tumbler beside him.  That couldn't have been his drink, he couldn't stand whiskey of any sort.  Another mystery…but at least he could remember home. "The Czech Republic.  I live in Prague, I think.  Or I work there.  I'm not really sure at this point.  My brain's less foggy and the headache's gone, but my memory's really patchy.  No idea how I got to London to start with.  Absentmindedly he'd picked up the glass and swirled it around.  It wasn't his gesture, but his hand certainly knew what it was doing.  The experience was jarring and he almost dropped the glass.  Clumsy, which most certainly wasn't like him.  He turned back to look into those pretty blue eyes.  It felt less stranded than staring down his thoughts.  "I don't suppose I said anything to you on the way in?  Other than ordering this swill……although a glass of red wine would do me a whole lot of good…"

He had a feeling it was going to be a long night.

He seemed to take it…. rather well. If "deer-in-the-headlights" expression counted as well. When in the world did he get his head hit or whatever it was that had happened? It wasn't often, or easy, to forget how you suddenly ended up in another country. Though…. if he didn't remember…. and he was acting different before the headache or whatever had happened…. Bingo. AH fuck, seriously? Multiple personalities? Did that HAVE to be what she'd found tonight? Least the guy didn't seem like some homicidal maniac that she really REALLY should be worried about.  "I…"   Ceri blinked, did he not even know where he was from? Even Sareph remembered plenty and she did drugs like it was water. This guy had to have had some major shit go down if he was having this many issues finding answers to questions that were relatively simple. Well… aside from if he remembered how he got there. That was a bit more complicated.

He looked over at his drink and just seemed confused. Was that another thing that the other personality drank? "The Czech Republic.  I live in Prague, I think.  Or I work there.  I'm not really sure at this point.  My brain's less foggy and the headache's gone, but my memory's really patchy.  No idea how I got to London to start with." The Czech Republic?! She blinked and stared at him, no wonder he had been so shocked when she told him where he was. That wasn't some easy jaunt. How long had the other guy been in control? She reached for the glass when she saw him start to drop it, but he caught it on his own and now she just stared at him with concern. She could see this wasn't exactly easy for him, what with bits and pieces of the other guy clearly still floating around with certain demeanors.

 "I don't suppose I said anything to you on the way in?  Other than ordering this swill……although a glass of red wine would do me a whole lot of good…" Ceri smiled slightly and slid herself off of the stool, hobbling back around the counter to grab him a bottle of wine. She had a couple of suspicions of what he might like. "No. You just came in and ordered your drink." She answered, popping off the cork and carefully pouring it with perfection into the glass. "Took off your fedora and jacket there when you sat down. Anything in the pockets that might prove helpful?" She offered as she slid him the glass of wine, Lilith humming now in her throat. Why not make him a target hm? He seems rather well off. No! Though…. Mentally she sighed because Lilith did have a point, the guy did look wealthy. And…. she was probably winning points over from him by being so helpful. Her blue eyes rested on him as she kept her small smile, No. Lilith went off and pouted, but Mordred was still just standing there, watching. What WAS it about this guy that had him so attentive?!