At the bar

She was still only 98% healed from her fight with Frank, her bruised ribs taking the longest, which she had expected considering the blow he gave her. She walked to a table in the back with a giant margurita and found a table that was empty, preffering to nurse the last of her injuries alone, or at least as alone as one could get in a bar. She could feel the stares of quite a few people near her, though she ignored them. She sat down and rolled her shoulders before taking the fruit out of the drink and setting it down on a napkin, not even able to remember the last time she had had a simple strawberry, which darkend her mood even more then it already was.

*Nobody noticed the man entering. One moment he wasn't there. The next, he stood across from the kindred, bowler hat in hand and his green surplus army jacket cinched around his waist despite the warm weather. Tonight he wore a black tie with a crisp dark blue button down that matched the deep set hue of his eyes. Those eyes, it should be noted seemed to dart and flicker with a speed that called to mind a serpent and yet, somehow, they avoided any of the customary warmth or life found in the eyes of most mortals. His skin was pale, features possessed almost a cherubic roundness to them and his short cropped brown hair seemed disheveled as if from the wind. He did not stir the Beast in her and yet the kine seemed to instinctively shirk from him, their paths taking them around him subtly. With a polite nod to her he indicated the seat across from her with his hat. When he spoke, his tone was empty of anything approaching warmth or even life but it carried a definite Scottish brogue*

Good evening, Miss. Would you mind if I'd shared your table this evening?

*Though his face looked to have seen thirty winters or so, his manner and posture displayed an archaic formality that seemed to be as deeply ingrained as breathing is to most people nowadays*

The Daeva glanced up and shrugged, not taking much notice of the other Kindred. At least not right at first glance.

"I don't see why not."

She motioned to the chair across from her.

*He nods once before carefully setting the hat on the table. His next move is to meticulously remove and fold the jacket over his arm before placing it on the seat across from her before settling in himself. Under the coat, he seems to be sporting a black wool vest complete with what appears to be a pocketwatch chain linking the two sides. A careful observer would also note he hasn't blinked. Not once since he made his presence known. After his almost ritualistic manner of settling down, he sits across from her and folds his hands in front of him on the table almost as if to allow her to keep them in view at all times*

Thank you, miss. I'd heard there was one of us who had been noted by our Court and I thought, as one of the Sanctified, it would be worthwhile to meet this prodigal and formally introduce myself.

*It's odd. Though accented, there's no real variance in tone or pitch. It's very polite sounding noise, but it sounds almost monotone. In fact, the only thing about this fellow that seems to be particularly animate are those constantly flickering eyes*

I am Andrew MacGregor, Miss. Local representative of the Lancea Sanctum and Primogen of the Court of Manchester. I am pleased to make your acquaintance.

*he doesn't offer his hand, instead keeping them placed on the table within sight. If he's noticed her bruises, he hasn't indicated it*

I trust you're finding our City to your liking?

Ashton watched him with a slightly raised eyebrow, wondering if he was always so careful with his movements, also noticing how he never seemed to blink. She leaned back in her chair.

"It's certainly been different I'll give it that."

She paused a moment, picking up her margerita, though not drinking from it.

"I'm Ashton. Ashton Grey."

She set her drink down.

"You said you're a member of the Court?"

She asked, glancing around her to make sure no humans were within ear shot.

*His flickering pupils seem to note her movements and he shrugs almost imperceptibly*

Miss Grey, nobody here has commented on your obvious pain and discomfort. I doubt they will pay overmuch attention to the words of two random strangers chatting amiably. The surest way to draw attention to a crime is to behave in a way that differs from expectation. Lest we raise our voices or appear to be discussing something truly interesting I wouldn't worry about being overheard.

*Factual. Like reading a list of attendees to a lecture or giving ones phone number to a cashier asking for a rewards membership. That's about all of the emphasis he puts on the statement. After a moment he inclines his head again slightly*

And I am, Miss Grey. I feel the need to add that this is not an official meeting or interview. I had hoped to run into you at some point. As one of the Sanctified, I wish to make myself available to all Damned, regardless of current residency....

*At this point a waitress stumbles and knocks a drink near him and the his reaction is almost instantaneous: His skin suddenly flushes, his breath comes in a surprised gasp, and his eyes suddenly come alive with amusement. He chuckles as she excuses herself and offers her one of the napkins from in front of him. He went from an almost alien being to fully human in an eye blink. After the waitress leaves though the color once again drains from his face and his eyes settle back into that flickering emptiness*

Ashton straightened a bit, not quite sure of what to think of him. She picked up her drink and took a sip this time, glarring at him over the edge of the glass. She set her drink back down on the table.

"What do you want?"

She asked finally.

*The transition was jarring: from an almost statue to vivid life around the incidental contact with the human. As she watched the color leeched away again and he once again resumed his waxen demeanor. A keen observer would note that even more so than the skin his complete lack of fidgeting, casual movement, little tilts of the head or pupil dilatation that all people do subconsciously were missing. Time seemed to crawl as his flickering pupils moved over her, the unblinking lids of his eyes not obscuring anything from their sight. After a while, the quiet drawl came forward again*

To talk, Miss Grey. Some time ago I was an investigator for the Pinkerton Detective Agency. From there I was embraced by one of the most prolific Inquisitors that the Sanctum positioned in the New World. In that blood the lineage of Shadows runs. To put it plainly, I have seen gaslights replaced by the sterile and jarring streetlights that spring up in these nights and, in all that time, I have existed and thrived by discovering things. Secrets. Information. Little pieces of trivia. Minutia.

*His hands are still placed before her and he casually spreads them to illustrate their emptiness*

The best way to continue to learn is to talk to others with a different perspective. You are not established here so it stands to reason you hold none of the bias of our local brethren. Also, you are, I suspect, far younger than I. This creates another opportunity to learn to see things in a way I had not considered. I swear to the God whom I server that I will not harm you nor push my questions beyond anything you're comfortable with.

Does that sound equitable?

She thought about it for a few moments, starring past him before turning her eyes back onto him. Her eyes, unlike any humans or possibly kindred's, were black; black even where the whites should have been. Thanks to a few years of resisting her Daeva needs and urges.

"What could you possibly hope to learn from me?"

She wondered.

Perspective.

*The reply is succinct. He inclines his head somewhat, the first "human" gesture he's made, as if in consideration before speaking again*

Tell me, Miss Grey, are you one of the Sanctified?

She rolled her eyes and finished her drink before answering, setting the empty glass near the edge of the table for a waitress to pick up. She folded her arms.

"Last time I checked I wasn't. And please, just call me Ashton."

She frowned slightly, unsure just what he meant if she was one of the Sanctified, but she was pretty sure she wasnt'.

*For a moment the Scottish kindred seems almost taken aback. Or maybe he just took an extra few seconds before responding. When he did, the tone was still that same measured, empty brogue*

I...prefer to cling to social decorum when conversing. I see no wedding band so I infer you're a "Miss". In addition, I am neither family nor familiar. To use your first name would be a substantial breach of etiquette. My question, Miss Grey, was regarding whether or not your spiritual inclinations embraced the idea of a Creator who chose you to become what you are. Sadly, I have found that in this age of constant miracles few truly believe in Him as they did in my time. How someone can see people so effortlessly conversing with friends thousands of miles away through something as small as a matchbox and not feel wonder is shocking to me. Additionally, how anyone can find themselves living on after death, a feat that only His Son, the one who pierced his side and Lazarus have accomplished and not believe in something greater than themselves perhaps had a hand in it...it's confusing to me.

And so I ask you, Miss Grey, do you believe?

Ashton shrugged.

"Suit yourself."

She mumbled, and thought about his question.

"I used to believe...I'm not sure about now though."

She narrowed her eyes.

"I don't know if I do or not."

*He nods slowly before turning his head to the right, facing the wall. A full ten count later a bright flash of someone's digital camera captures a drunken next morning regret but spared the vampires' cornea. Turning back he continued as if nothing had happened*

If you don't mind my asking, why not? Human nature is very difficult to change, most especially when it comes to belief. Something must have happened. Tell me about it...please. Perhaps I can offer a different perspective.

She examined her nails a bit before answering.

"I think I believed when I was human. I don't really remember a lot of my human years..."

She trailed off.

"As for being unsure about a God now...for one, I became this...thing..."

She motioned with her hands at herself.

"I do have other reasons of course, I just don't feel like talking about them."

She sighed and ran a hand through her long wavy black hair, frowning at him some more.

"Why are you so interested anyway?"

I am Sanctum, Miss Grey. Belief, and it's reasoning, go hand in hand. As to how becoming what you are could shake your faith...have you considered it His plan for you all along?

*He stops for a moment and, if only for a few seconds the hollow tone seems to become more lively...more human. His eyes blink for the first time in the conversation and they seem to hold to hers with something approaching empathy*

You live for all of time, captured in the strength of your youth to be untouched by age. Power unseen by anything under Heaven save for His angels alone is yours along with more predatory instinct than any of His creatures. In you lies the opportunity to save thousands of wayward men and women who might otherwise fall to temptation or wickedness as your Requiem unfolds before you. Those whom flaunt His edicts...who spurn His mercy...you have it within you the strength to punish them lest they poison and corrupt the innocent.

Miss Grey, you have been Sanctified with the blood as ordained by Him more surely than any baptism or communion. As the decades melt away into centuries you will need something to carry you on lest you fall to the Devil and the Beast he seeks to lead us astray with. Some seek to once more return to their life as Sheep. Others, unable to find the innocence of their days as kine become wolves who would devour the flock, endlessly competing to be the alpha of their pack, feeding and rutting as their whims take them. Little more than animals on 2 legs.

You ask me why I am interested, Miss Grey. I am interested because I am a Shepard. Chosen and Damned by Him to safeguard his sheep from the perils of the world be they wolf, storm or even one who fails to see the gift they've been given. You have a choice in how you spend your eternity, Miss Grey. I won't make it for you or, honesty, try and coerce you into my way of thinking. I want you perhaps consider though that, while an eternity as one of our kind can seem tortuous, and it will test your sanity, faith and humanity on a nightly basis for as long as you exist, perhaps you were chosen because He thought you were special. Because He thought you could handle the burden and with it help ease the suffering of the souls of this world.

*His voice gains intensity, life as he continues to speak, the conviction and faith that is the only thing that seems to animate him comes pouring out*

I care, Ashton, because I am one of His chosen as well. I have taken the vows of the Lancea Sanctum and it is my privilege to guide those lost back onto their path. I care because I've been Damned for over a century and as every memory of who and what you were in life fades away you need something left that you can believe in that will carry you through the centuries and save you from the snares of the Beast.

*His voice quiets and he seems to come back to himself now. The passion he displayed once more bleeds into that same alien stillness. His eyes cease blinking and instead continue to flicker to and fro, drinking in details and nuances from the world around them with all the detachment of a lizard. He calmly takes his hat in hand then and nods to her*

Do you have any questions that I might be able to answer, Miss Grey?

She stared at him with unreadable eyes. The first question that came to mind is whether or not he was crazy. This conversation was way over her head.

"Why don't you speak in simpler forms? You've lost me, to say the least. In other words, why can't you just tell me what you're trying to say in plain English instead of riddles?"

She wondered.

"Are you saying I'm a Chosen? If you are, you should know I really don't know what that is or what that means."

She grabbed her purse and fished out her wallet and set money on the table for her drink, looking rather annoyed.