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From: Bryon
Elizabeth Feildric’s apartment looked as tasteful as ever. Contrasting with the simple yet imposing decor was the man sitting in the couch in his brown trenchcoat, hair ruffled and legs crossed. He stared at the wall as he listened to his sire, standing in the middle of the room looking nonchalantly casual in her slip.
“So you had a good time at the Grand Ball?” She smiled to herself, as her back was turned to the couch and Bryon.
“Yes.” His reply was devoid of emotion.
“Strange. The people you were with most of the time said you left early. And you seemed to be avoiding me the times I did see you. As if refusing to escort me there wasn’t enough….” She scolded him playfully, knowing how much he hated her patronizing tone. “You’ve been a naughty boy, Bryon.”
“If you say so. But what is it you really want to know?” He tried to put a hardness in his voice, though he knew she wouldn’t accept it. She would continue her beloved charade.
“Well… Why don’t you tell me about your former workplace. I understand you’ve been doing ‘favors’ for the esteemed Ventrue Primogen.”
“Ok. It’s nothing really, just been looking out for stories that might have interest for her. There was this short piece - on a man who performed the seemingly impossible feat of jumping in front of a speeding car, in order to save a child, and got up and ran away after having been hit. Things like that, for example. There was also a fire a couple of days ago she asked me to investigate. Little things.” He glowered a little while telling of his exploits. He felt he could get along without his sire, as this time it was her coming to him for information. He tried not to smirk.
“And how about your little friend miss Vilette? I hear she’s out of town.” The trump card was delivered with all the malice necessary to shatter his little bubble of confidence.
The room seemed to grow darker, as if twilight had descended upon it.
“Your little obsessions aren’t healthy. This will give you a chance to get out more. Please take it. In fact, you can leave right now.” Elizabeth gave a little wave of her hand, still watching one of her paintings with her back to Bryon. The door slammed scantly a second later. Poor Bryon, she thought. So unwilling to submit. But she had to admit she enjoyed this little game. That was part of why she’d chosen him. And he would submit, willingly, sooner or later. All she had to do was enjoy the process.