"I think I'll wait for the others to arrive up in the lobby." Garth states softly and upon getting close to Larkin so he could hear it. With a glance over to the hunter, the Gangrel heads up the stairs.
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"I think I'll wait for the others to arrive up in the lobby." Garth states softly and upon getting close to Larkin so he could hear it. With a glance over to the hunter, the Gangrel heads up the stairs.
Richard focused again on Jacob. He moved closer to concentrate seeing the man was unarmed. If this didn't work, he may have had to do one other thing.
Nodding to Larkin, Jacob started. "Your wife had an accident. Your friend went to France. Vampire only exist in fiction, you're just a dude. And you cut yourself on a cutlery knife while trying to whittle a pencil."
fail
Jacob cocked his brow and looked un-phased.
Trask's eyebrow above his good eye went up as he stared at Richard. He seemed as unimpressed as the hunter did. Kidding me?
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Garth just continues up the stairs, not even pausing to glance skeptically at Richard. Although he did softly shake his head at Richard's statement. He speeds up a bit so he's in the lobby before anyone could speak again.
Richard rubbed his hands together and concentrated. He took a few unnecessary breaths to calm himself down.
"Okay Jacob, your wife had an accident. Your friend went to France. Vampire only exist in fiction, you're just a dude. And you cut yourself on a cutlery knife while trying to whittle a pencil."
Jacob turned to trask. "You're sure about this guy?" Thumbing to Richard now entirely not convinced. "Uh...something I can do to help this along?"
Larkin stared down Richard and said deadpan, "Richard. More than a sentence. Put your back into it."
Seriously, between the moron Gangrel and the moron Ventrue, I have to be the only useful person this side of the airport.
...also, who the fuck whittles a pencil?
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Garth heads for the spot he hide the sword and pulls it out after taking a few seconds to grab it. With it in his hands, he pulls the sword out of the sheath and admires the bare steel. Shifting it around, his eyes are glued to the edge. Twisting it this way and that, he is tempted to put down the scabbard and take a few swings with the sword in both hands. His Beast didn't care since there wasn't any blood involved in his activity.
With a shake and a sigh, he returns the sword back into its sheath and places it down on the desk to keep down his temptation.
Richard shook his head. He felt like a failure to the Lords. He was determined not to fail this time. Carefully, he went through all Larkin had told him. Each sentence spoken slowly and carefully as the words entered the mortal's mind.
Your wife died in a tragic accident. You mourned her, she's gone.
Your friend, Harold, left for Europe. Met a gal and wanted to take off to romance her.
You are a regular guy and all of the vampires were just a dream.
You cut your arm when you accidentally stabbed yourself on a knife in the dishwasher.
Jacob was dazed, he nodded along to Richard as he spoke. Entranced to the words of the amber eyed man before him with words smooth as silk.
Trask nodded once as the Lord tried again. He watched Jacob as he stood there nodding, and turned his back on the hunter, whispering to Richard, "Get him home, please. I'll take care of the body. Wipe all memories of this evening and replace them with... something pleasant. If you place his memory such that he just cut his hand a few minutes before you leave so he goes to the hospital, that'll do fine." Wiping his blade off on a cloth and pocketing it, he sheathed it, and then the sword phased out of perception, as if it wasn't there at all. He picked up the man's stake while he was at it; best to clear everything he could.
His eyes flicked over to Jacob. He might've been an inhuman monster. But tonight had shown him, above all else, that being a monster didn't mean that he had to behave monsterously. Sometimes, there were alternatives.
Looking to Richard to ensure he understood and didn't have any questions, Trask prepared to head for the door and out of this cursed motel for the collerateral cleanup. The body outside in the truck would have to go first... then the guts.
Yuck.
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Garth pulls out his cell, taking a glance to see if he has any new messages or calls. Noticing that he has had at least three calls in the last fifteen minutes, he puts his phone away. He'll phone them tomorrow night.
He returns to waiting for the clean up crew to show.
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