In Thomas' church - or was it 'their' church - Michael sits at the desk in the office his guest had so graciously offered to him. He is busy disassembling the slide of his weapon, a Beretta M9, to inspect it for wear and lubricate it. It is a time-consuming task, but Michael enjoys such things. Anything that allows his body to work while leaving his mind mostly free to wander was a small blessing.
His thoughts were on home, tonight. Home, or what was once his home, in Florida. If only I had a little more time... I could have made something of myself. Michael's reflections of his duty in life always left something to be desired. How else should he feel? He hardly had the time to prove himself before being pulled away into the world of unending night. He knew he was grateful. He simply could not deny that things would have been different if he had been turned later in life. As it stands, he would not only always look like a young man but also feel two steps behind. Michael doesn't feel that he is completely unskilled; he knew enough to graduate from college with a History degree and become a commissioned officer in the United States Navy. He had since been trained by his sire in the ways of stealth, deception and espionage in the few years of his Embrace. He just wanted more.
"Terrible." he says, absently, as he runs a cotton swab through the nooks and crannies and it comes out black.
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