Now, Lord Peter Baldwin, Priscus of Nosferatu and Sacramento's solo Knight of the Most Honourable Order of the Thorned Wreath, was no wuss. He often approached situations in a direct and violent way. He risked his Requiem nightly for the First Estate. It was his oathsworn duty, and something he took pride in. And had this been Asa Clarke torpid in some dungeon, he would have Came In Like a Wrecking Ball. In he would have gone beneath the Cloak to scan and see what it was that lurked beyond the press of bodies.
And of course, those who weren't part of Team Obfuscation shouldn't go into yonder dungeon. The vestibule looked like a giant trap. If doors got closed, there would be no getting out, and fighting through a mass of bodies would be an absolute nightmare.
Actually, come to think of it, Nightmare might not be a bad idea.
But this wasn't Asa Clarke in the basement. This wasn't his show, and he was glad for it. His deal with Dog was to help get the body, and help get the body he would. But this was the Ordo Dracul's gig, not the Invictus's. He didn't have to go in first. And that meant someone other than him could make the call as to what Hildegarde and Tracy Burns ought to be doing. He waited beneath the Cloak for the chit-chat to finish, holding his position next to Regan with the patience only a Knight could muster up.
The shit he did to keep his honour intact...
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