(1506) Viv and David

Ever the gentleman, David rises to his feet when he sees Vivian's approach. Self-consciousness lurks in the back of David's thoughts, manifesting as a quick adjustment to the thin, navy blue tie he wears. “Miss York,” David greets, the syllables touched by surprise as feet slide against the ground, signaling slight movements. While she assured him of the contrary, the Dragon chalked their movie night as more serendipity than want. So, seeing her angle her way towards him now, takes him off-guard.

“I'm okay,” the Shadow replies in that same soft-spoken tenor. But, it's just okay. “Running a little late, is all.” A quick glance around them and David then asks, “All quiet on the Western Front?”

Then, almost as though remembering the seat he just left David gestures, “Want to sit with me?”

“Better late than never, as they say.” This concept seemed to escape some as it were. Vivian nodded to the offer. “Thank you, I would.” As she sat, her long leg crossed toward David, the toe of her shoe pointed toward the ground.

“Well, other than something that may have come upon Gerald and Josephine. As to the details, I’m unaware. I just know he came from speaking to the Prince, and then to ask Josephine for a moment for important business that is perhaps none of my business.” The Daeva shook her head; the matter wasn’t really of any importance to her. Just curious a curious thing to wonder about, after all, it involved her Coterie mate. “Aside from that, nothing major, per say.”

Her eyes circled around the Elysia, spotting Konrad and Tomas again. “Oh, I met a new Gangrel, I believe. With an interest in reading inexplicable phenomena, or something of that nature.” Her eyes meeting to the Shadow’s. “May be of interest to you? It sparked a curiosity, as he described it as a hobby perhaps, or deep interest.” There had been no time to elaborate as it seemed this evening held a lot of Clan endeavors one way or another.

Leaning in, close enough that perhaps her perfume would hit his senses. In a whisper she asked bluntly. "By the by, my apologies, shall I call you Mr. Regan or something else you prefer?"

Must remember these name preferences better...

Vivian's cloying scent moves across David's senses like so much a Siamese cat; languid and lissome. Taking in a breath, David is about to answer when Katya Harding takes command of the room. The Mekhet Priscus only recognizes the pale-skinned woman by sight, and slightly parted lips close again as eyes fix the Gangrel with a curious look.

Katya's ( sumthingpositiv ) announcement is simple and to the point. Briefly, curiosity segues into consideration; she's earned Asa 's trust – which in turn should earn the room's.

Returning to his feet, the Mourning Witness, Priscus of the Mekhet, and Grand Wyrm of the Ordo Dracul bows deferentially to the young Gangrel with a heady title. A silent prayer to Osiris filters through the Libitinarius' mind begging to protect the woman from the machinations of others. Finished, David quietly returns to his seat waiting for the moment to pass.

“David is fine,” the Mekhet returns in whisper, David is not the stickler for titles that Johan is. Besides, the most important titles David holds are ones Vivian has no idea about. “I just err on the side of caution. But, it's a fascinating subject, isn't it? What does my preference say about me?” Are titles just another mask to wear?

The rest of Vivian's news is taken impassively. Glances towards Josephine and then the bobbing head of Gerald merely seek to check their postures.

“As for the new Gangrel you've met,” David's eyes search unsuccessful for whoever Vivian mentioned, “I think it would be of some interest.”

Rising with David and pivoting toward the woman who spoke up and beckoned attention, Vivian raised a brow. Curious that a woman who wasn’t here that long swiftly took up a particular title. The Daeva bowed her head toward the new Seneschal, only a pleasant face was currently in place. Surly in time she would come to know the woman. Her appointment was far more intriguing than the last announced appointment.

I'd have thought that Harpy would have made that announcement… How strange...

Returning to the seat next to the Shadow, Vivian nods as her settles on his preferred name. Whispering again. “That you prefer no title to your name? That you have no need to hide beneath words, perhaps. Some don’t use it for hiding though, I believe they deserve it.” So far, that list was beyond small. “Maybe like a tattoo. Some wish to show the world, others conceal it until the time is right.”

The Daeva peers to look for Tomas, who she thought was with Konrad. “Oh, that new gentleman, near Konrad and Juan. Not the same man as earlier. This one is very new, the one with the coiffed hair that is.”

A small utterance of sound accepts Vivian's explanation of who Tomas is and who Tomas is not. “Maybe, then you'll introduce me sometime later?” In the meantime, David slides his ankle to his opposite knee, turning his attention squarely to Vivian. “My sire preferred more formal modes of address,” it was always Initiate Fisher or Mr. Fisher. “I think I was the only one to call him 'Johan.'” The Shadow looks down to his hands, “It imposed distance, even more so than his adopted accent. He is a private man and with the political climate of Minneapolis-Saint Paul, understandable.” A meaningful look is shared with Vivian.

“Despite my preference, I still see a use for titles. Especially, the informative ones.” David's head tilts slightly as though still thinking it through. “To everything there is a season,” the Shadow quotes, “one supposes. Like everything else, I guess it boils down to 'it depends.' You for instance,” he further explains, “I think of as more than just a passing acquaintance. If I didn't, I think my answer would have been different.”

Not much these days differentiate David from his sire. Both men impose distance between themselves and others. They just do it in different ways.

“Of course I would. If I come across him again at some point. Konrad mentioned something about a beach party.” The Deava softly chuckled. “Can you believe there are a one or two in our Domain I have yet to converse with at all.” Not attempting to avoid anyone, but circumstances were unavoidable.

Vivian could understand why David’s sire wanted things in such a way. Everyone had their preferred method. “My sire taught me, ‘whatever makes sense in the situation’ because obviously overly formal address drew attention.” Which was something to avoid in her line of work.

“Yes, informative titles are important, I agree. Although I do find it amusing that some wait until an opportune time to use that title. A Prince, for example, meeting someone new could use it to find out what type of Kindred they truly are.” And the Daeva would love to witness that just for pure entertainment.

“Situational, again, but I’m glad I’m considered more than just a passing acquaintance…” The corner of her mouth lifted slightly.

“Beach party?” David questions, both of his bushy brows lifting. His left hand rakes quickly through his hair. Not that it changes anything as stubborn strands return to their starting points. “Isn't the nearest beach in Santa Cruz?” Which, from his mental calculations is two and a half hours away. Even so, Vivian's off-handed mention causes David to briefly imagine the Kindred court in a beach party film. Though, that thought raises the question of who would be in Annette Funicello's roles.

“Sorry,” David apologizes, “I didn't mean for it to come off so clinical.” To a man who has never in his existence had very many friends, he's hesitant. “It's just that for most, I prefer formality.” Which leaves the some, the very few who have crossed a distance David imposes on others, as well as himself. Like Vivian.

Vivian threw up her hands from her lap. “Perhaps?” Clearly having no idea of the ins and outs of the city. “I haven’t the foggiest idea where the nearest beach would be. So, I presume you’re accurate with that statement. Unless it was on the river. A boat of some sort was suggested as well.” The Deava was at a loss. Doubtful Konrad was being precocious, although he spoke about one other thing. “He did mention fireworks. Quite certain that is a ridiculous notion… but I think he let that part of it rest.” Chuckling at the absurdity of the suggestion. She liked them, at a distance, for New Years Eve.

“Besides,” The Succubus waved her hand to the side. “I don’t need a beach to flaunt a bathing suit. There are plenty of pools in the Domain I’m sure.” Winking casually to the Shadow.

The same hand waved between them, as to disregard his concerns. “No, it’s quite alright. It puts it the titles into perspective, or at least some of them.” When he mentioned the other part of why he liked them, she paused to collect a thought or two. “Formality. As in a constant, something to keep ones self on track?” Palming the question to the soft spoken Mekhet.

“Fireworks?” David asks skeptically, not very keen on the potential dangers of being around them. “I suppose if he is serious, then Priscus Roth will have it well-in-hand. Though, that reminds me that the Fourth of July is coming.” Which brings with it irresponsible homeowners lighting shoddily made fireworks and small children playing with sparklers. Neither of which David wants to be around, for obvious reasons.

The thought evaporates with Vivian's wink and the Shadow looks away while a hand rakes through his hair.

Vivian's question refocuses his attention. “That's probably a larger question than simply 'why titles'” David replies thoughtfully, “Why do people adhere to strict codes of manner and social mores? Of course, they inform, like we said: who to go to for help, information, acknowledgment. Formality also reinforces hierarchy; who leads and who follows.”

David lapses into a brief silence before he adds, “Formality also encourages trust. Consider, back in the Roman Era, men would shake hands; a mutual check of weapons. And trust,” the Priscus notes looking back to Vivian, “is a hard-won thing in our circles.” Especially as they walk the razor's edge of atavistic violence. “It's easy to dismiss titles or formality as outmoded, but there's deeper reasons for it, I think.”

“Is that quite the festive holiday for you all?” Vivian had heard about this sort of thing. The throwing of fire into the air to resemble bombs or explosions, the beaches, the picnics, the eating and the spirits consumed. “I’ve only been here since last fall. Heard all the rumors of course.” She felt like David would have a better viewpoint on the holiday than most. Straight and to the point, not the party that it was made out to be.

The Daeva leaned her elbow on her knee, raised by the cross of her legs. Her chin loosely rested upon her open hand. She was intent on listening to the Shadow, maybe it was starting to make more sense. “That is a very astounding viewpoint. It makes entirely more sense than ‘just follow suit and do as you’re instructed.’” Her eyes looked to Asa for a moment, her wrist pivoting her head that direction. "Of course, the Prince's title has laways been a given; Seneschal as well."

Then her hand carried her chin back to look at David. “So in a sense, it is like the proverbial handshake without touching.” Which of course was a pity, Vivian certainly had a preference. “But, I see your point now. So with that said, do you prefer for me to call you David or well, I’m not sure what title you may go by that would be applicable to me.”

Too bad this information wasn’t pointed out to her previously. Perhaps she would have been more willing to address people as necessary.