Vorigan hadn’t turned around yet. He couldn’t argue with Robby’s note about smelling. But hell, he’d met other vampires who smelled far worse that were Lords.
“Perhaps instead of saying ‘hey you bartender blah blah blah’ you could have just asked me my name… or asked someone else what my name was.” The Ventrue pulled out another smoke from a cigarette case that could be heard with a click as it closed. Vorigan lit one smoke with the old one that was smoked nearly to the filter. “I’m scary, hmm?” He shook his head, only the back of it could be seen by the rest of the bar. “That is an interesting deduction considering I just threw a pack of cigarettes in your direction.” His words were articulated down to every last syllable as his British accent was in full swing.
The Lord quickly flipped around to where the voice came from. His elbow rested on his knee and his chin in his hand with the smoke. “My my… I didn’t know sharing was scaring.” A smile that went ear to ear slipped across his face. His natural inscisors looked very fanglike and his two different color eyes were open with raised browsed awaiting a reply from…Robby.
He made a remark about the other question. “The news; someone is dying, someone is lying and someone is crying. Same shit different day… mostly." The thin Ventrue's comment was from Dennis' question. The Lord was a realist and not about to sugar coat a damn thing.