Street lamps fight a never-ending war against the encroaching dark outside of the relative safety of Katya Harding's car. Inside, in the passenger seat, David sits rather unobtrusively as though he is subconsciously attempting to take as little room in her car as he possibly can. The summer haze has left the world with the sun, but Summer warmth remains and the Mortician is dressed to blend in with the kine: stone-colored jeans and a white button-up. It attempts to be insouciant but the jury is out if it achieves that affect.
David may not expose his beast to the world. Some call it polite. Others call it strategic. For David, though hiding the power of a man from prying Kindred eyes, was a near instinctual thing. However, looking at Katya, David wrestles with a burning hate, familiar contempt, and simple resentment at the younger vampire. So young, to have such power over him. The Shrike desires nothing so much as to take the wheel and to ram the car into a streetlamp. To remove the obstacle. The Shadow Dragon swallows his beast's squawking like a bitter pill, keeping control under a veneer of placidity.
The Mekhet releases the vice-grip on the handle of the car door and searches the back of the car .
“If you do not want to continue driving, then we'll need a safe space to speak, Seneschal. Preferably nowhere near Citrus Heights.” David draws his lips into a thin line, this might be a long drive as he turns his gaze back to the windshield as amber light washes over them. “Josephine Sterling was right. But most of what I know of what's going on in this domain cannot be spoken about in Elysium and especially not in front of Mr. Wooding.”
Clash Roll, Back Seat 3 successes
OOC