They took him by surprise, the Queen and the Magister. Swanning in like they owned the place, Sophie-Ann in grey silk and furs, the Magister in his usual business attire and dour expression.
The Magister was worried about the V. Very worried. So much of it in such a small area. If vampires had gone missing? Of course not, Magister, he lied all the while Sophie-Anne stretched and writhed and went on and on about how selling the sacred blood was a travesty.
He could kill her.
That she offhandedly mentioned that they ought to discuss business in the bar because she had had his office tapped did not help his mood.
They both put on a show of being appalled at the very notion that one of their own would get involved in the V-selling, as the Magister believed was the case.
The moral anarchy!
The Magister did not seem convinced but there was little he could do, apart from stressing the grave nature of the matter. So he left and Sophie-Ann went straight to what she really wanted. For Eric to move the rest of his - inventory. The IRS were on her heels as well apparently.
He tried to reason with her, he tried to stay calm, but she simply did not understand the mechanics of the situation. And she felt the need to get in his face about it, fangs bared, her fingers curling around his balls. Literarily.
He managed to not tear into her, kept his reaction to a snarl, when all he wanted was her blood sprayed across the wall.
So he told her that Compton was missing. That he knew about the blood. At least he knew about Eric's involvement.
He should have known how she would react. With indifference.
no subject
Swanning in like they owned the place, Sophie-Ann in grey silk and furs, the Magister in his usual business attire and dour expression.
The Magister was worried about the V. Very worried. So much of it in such a small area. If vampires had gone missing?
Of course not, Magister, he lied all the while Sophie-Anne stretched and writhed and went on and on about how selling the sacred blood was a travesty.
He could kill her.
That she offhandedly mentioned that they ought to discuss business in the bar because she had had his office tapped did not help his mood.
They both put on a show of being appalled at the very notion that one of their own would get involved in the V-selling, as the Magister believed was the case.
The moral anarchy!
The Magister did not seem convinced but there was little he could do, apart from stressing the grave nature of the matter. So he left and Sophie-Ann went straight to what she really wanted.
For Eric to move the rest of his - inventory.
The IRS were on her heels as well apparently.
He tried to reason with her, he tried to stay calm, but she simply did not understand the mechanics of the situation. And she felt the need to get in his face about it, fangs bared, her fingers curling around his balls.
Literarily.
He managed to not tear into her, kept his reaction to a snarl, when all he wanted was her blood sprayed across the wall.
So he told her that Compton was missing. That he knew about the blood. At least he knew about Eric's involvement.
He should have known how she would react.
With indifference.
"Let him rot," she said and left.
He stood there. Fuming. And unsettled.
A little while passed.
Then he summoned Pam.