(1111) Francesco and Dillon

[Dillon Connery]

The workings of men, deities, and the undead predators in between are far closer to the realm of fact and science than that of luck, chance, and wishes. Dillon almost says it, before realizing that it would do no good. Like most of the ignorant, Francesco had plucked the word 'God' from Dillon's statement and disregarded the rest. The Gangrel Priscus will waste no more words on a closed mind that cowered under a blanket of atheism.

Knowledge and Faith. Einstein had understood, why did so few of his fans?

"And if they didn't buy this bomb? If they manufactured it from raw ammonia, or fertilizer, or any number of other household chemicals that can be combined with explosive results? Would you have us stake out Walmart, as well?"

Pausing, Dillon collects himself before his annoyance can show. He had patience in spades. It was his tolerance that always came up short. "There are no blood hunts currently in effect that I am aware of," or he would be out there hunting them, "but, you can keep yourself on top of the situation by paying attention to the Elysium Postings. Madam Harpy Donovan goes to a great deal of effort to assure that members of this Domain have access to information as it becomes available. You can also find the contact info for the Domain officials, there. Including the Regents with which you will have to inquire about tenancy." Dillon's nod points his eyebrows to the notification boards, declaration of Law, and listing of Domain positions on a nearby wall.

[Dillon Connery]

"You never offended me, Mister Giovanni." Dillon's tone is light enough that it can be taken for truth, and not just said for social grace. He knew he'd kept his poker face up, but maybe his dropping the subject had made Francesco assume that Dillon was upset or something. Then again, maybe it was just because he'd stopped smiling."It would just be a waste of both our time for me to keep speaking on a subject you aren't interested in discussing."

Perfectly willing to leave it at that, Dillon addresses the last matter. "If there's any questions that I can answer for you, I will. That's what I'm here for. Now, training in what, exactly?"

[Dillon Connery]

Dillon thinks about it for a moment, showing nothing. Then, his face seems to soften. His brows aren't lurking so far down over his eyes anymore, losing the raptor-like quality.

"You said something in the Clan Meeting about being a pugilist. What styles, specifically, do you know? Enough to teach?"

[Dillon Connery]

Balboa, huh?

Nodding, Dillon gives a little one-sided shrug as well. "At least you have your Requiem ahead of you to learn. I myself am sort of a collector of Martial Arts, and I'm always willing to acquire more of them. As for the Blood Gifts, you should ask around with your fellow Gangrel, and maybe you can come to some sort of agreement. If not, I might be able to find something for you to do for me in exchange for lessons. Remember what I said about Protean, though. I'm not handing someone a weapon who will endanger themselves or others with it. I have to know that they will act responsibly with such knowledge." Apparently, this concept applied to his fellow Savages, as well.

"Keep an eye open for twenty-four hour gyms, there are a few of them in Sacramento. Two in the Communal Hunting area that I am sure of. One on Seventh Street-- just don't take anyone home, because that's in the Rack-- and one out in Arden on Fulton Avenue. I've been to both." Again, there is a noncommittal shrug that signals Dillon's opinion on them. They were nothing special, but they would do. Vampires had limited choices.

[Dillon Connery]

Just when he thinks the coaster is running smoothly, there comes an unexpected bump. Dillon mouths the words 'nightly pound' with a questioning look on his face, aimed off to the side at no one in particular. Sounded like some vulgar reference to a Rack vessel...

"Wait, do you mean, like a twenty-four hour animal shelter, kennel or something, or is that some slang term that's went completely over my head?"