09-02-2013, 06:51 PM
"Only just found out what a Clan was and that there are a few of them."
His voice remains that steady and patient plod, the hard lined cheat of a ghetto dialect, chopping off the ends of his verbs and gnawing his way through a throaty conjugation or two, minimized but not broken. A lesson learned and practiced with effort. He meets the Ventrue woman's gaze evenly, the bluntness of his response laid out without defiance or irritation. His ignorance was recognizable, to both of them and it did not seem to phase him like it would someone more unstable.
"So Ravnos. Don't trust 'em. Like playing tricks. Knee deep in the 'Fax." He offers a huff, that doesn't manage disdainful, so much as it reacts in resignation. "Sounds like wasted time."
He pulls the wool jacket a little tighter about himself, a vague unease creeping into his stance that symptoms in tension. Hands curl, jaw wrings itself in a tight circle. His eyes inspect the interior of the war room. Cleanly around a street man. Unease is the right word.
"Your war ain't been my war up until now. Bunch of shovelheads came through my Corner and dug up a bunch of trouble. Hurting my drink and crew." A pause. Thinking, frowning. "Took someone important too. I want to balance that asap. The Throne here-" He nods, as if to indicate the Castle itself. Elysium. "-gives me the best chance to find them and that's what I'm gonna do."
His gaze narrows thinly. Not enough to warrant suspicion. More curiosity on those midnight features.
"So what's the deal with this Sabbat bunch? They got Crews too?" A correction. "Clans to?"
His voice remains that steady and patient plod, the hard lined cheat of a ghetto dialect, chopping off the ends of his verbs and gnawing his way through a throaty conjugation or two, minimized but not broken. A lesson learned and practiced with effort. He meets the Ventrue woman's gaze evenly, the bluntness of his response laid out without defiance or irritation. His ignorance was recognizable, to both of them and it did not seem to phase him like it would someone more unstable.
"So Ravnos. Don't trust 'em. Like playing tricks. Knee deep in the 'Fax." He offers a huff, that doesn't manage disdainful, so much as it reacts in resignation. "Sounds like wasted time."
He pulls the wool jacket a little tighter about himself, a vague unease creeping into his stance that symptoms in tension. Hands curl, jaw wrings itself in a tight circle. His eyes inspect the interior of the war room. Cleanly around a street man. Unease is the right word.
"Your war ain't been my war up until now. Bunch of shovelheads came through my Corner and dug up a bunch of trouble. Hurting my drink and crew." A pause. Thinking, frowning. "Took someone important too. I want to balance that asap. The Throne here-" He nods, as if to indicate the Castle itself. Elysium. "-gives me the best chance to find them and that's what I'm gonna do."
His gaze narrows thinly. Not enough to warrant suspicion. More curiosity on those midnight features.
"So what's the deal with this Sabbat bunch? They got Crews too?" A correction. "Clans to?"