Brood MOAR

A sickly sweet looking iced coffee sits roughly a foot away from David Morgan and his laptop. The whipped cream has melted into the drink that was otherwise untouched. A leftover from life, hanging out at Starbucks was just a habit that David never broke.

Mr. Morgan stares at the computer screen as if something loathesome was dancing across it. His jaw muscles ripple underneath his skin as he grinds his teeth together. An observant onlooker might notice him tap his foot anxiously from time to time before he would catch himself and glance around the room to see if anyone noticed. His finger jabs angrily at the touchpad with every click, punishing it for some unknown crime.

His black skullhead beanie is pulled down tightly to cover the tops of his ears. He wears it not to protect himself from the cold, but to cover the patches of singed hair… some of it actually melted together to form horrific globs of burnt flesh and protein.

Every once in a while David scans the room, searching for something or someone. His body language says "Stay the fuck away!", but something in his eyes says something very different.

"It hurts doesn't it? But as much as it does, you should take solace that while burned: you'll recover, they won't."

Standing at the counter awaiting his order stands the well dressed Ventrue. He is facing you while casually leaning on the counter hands folded, eyes concealed by his trademark mirrored sunglasses. A waitress hands him a drink, he flashes her a smile while taking it. He walks over to an empty chair at your table, you notice his suite has the look of a recent dry cleaning about it.

"Mind if I join you?"

David shoves The Beast down into it's cage deep within him. He looks up from his screen and replies "Sure thing, Vash."

The Ordo smirks for the first time in days, hoping the reference isn't completely lost on the other Kindred. In his characteristic quiet speaking voice he says "The burns aren't so bad. It's everything else that sucks ass."

He looks wistfully at his coffee before pretending to take a sip.

Tyler sits down and half heartily tries to hide his amused smirk by taking a sip of his drink.

"Vash? Sounds like the name of a one dimensional character from a mediocre anime. Besides, I have always been more of a Hellsing kind of guy. There should probably be some sort of irony there or something...but I digress. To be frank I am surprised you came out of that as well as you did, half assumed you were a goner when I saw the intensity of that blaze."

Tyler's voice lowers somewhat with a stronger emphasis on discretion. He also takes on a more serious expression, that doesn't hide his disapproval of his words.

"You were not at present at court that night where you? Our Prince has made it clear his joy of rewarding those of distinction to his service... however in his wisdom he did not ask for nor accept opinions of those present when it came to the matter we speak of. He asked for the singular opinions of three individuals for whom to recognize for excellence in this endeavor. The one who gave the opinion in our case was also the one who received the recognition... something I found in poor taste. Not many could face the flames and retain their composure... one would think it would be more widely appreciated."

David's nostrils flare slightly, as the clenches the deceptively delicate looking wrecking ball that is his fist. There is a long moment before he answers, though it is unclear if he is searching for the right words, or just trying not to scream.

"Yeah, I wasn't there. I was busy killing werewolves. More werewolves. For the Prince. Again." His words are halting and barely controlled.

"I don't blame Tony for taking the status. He seems like a solid guy… A workhorse. The Prince offer him a carrot, and he took it. Can't say is I wouldn't have done the same." Another pause. David's words flow easier as he begins to collect himself.

"And as for the Prince… If he wants to hand out cookies to anyone who gives themselves a pat on the back, that's none of my business. I'm here to better the city, not to get gold stars."

Although his tone has been quiet this whole time, the last sentence ends barely above a whisper "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go update his Excellency about another infestation stamped out."

David grabs the plastic cup covered in condensation and packs up his laptop. With a nod, he jerks open the door, and wheels out.