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Combing his hair as best he could and brushing his teeth, he paid special attention to his fangs. Idly he wondered he wondered how many Kindred kept up this Kine practice, it's not like his teeth would ever rot or decay, he had the supernatural curse running through his veins to thank for that. Spitting out the paste he looked back up at the mirror, there he was, staring back at himself. Except, his face was blurred, obscured. It was a habit at this point, looking at himself, trying to pierce through the static.
Dressed in a tank top and jeans, he quickly changed into a white shirt and slipped on a leather jacket, it was the only one he owned, he picked it up at some point in the 1950s, imported from America when it was trendy among the Kine. He felt almost naked without it now, just as some Kindred felt exposed when not within their spheres of influence. Grabbing his shoes, he put them on and tied the laces.
Getting ready for his meeting with the Reeve, he grabbed his car keys off the counter and left for the office. Wondering just what he'll see when he gets there. He did have a single hope, that whatever this was about, and whatever "Questions" were waiting for him, weren't going to cause any more trouble for him or anyone else.