Antipathy and irritation thickens the air of the Caldarium, and right then Longstreet knows he's hit a roadblock. It's clear the Artist won't give this information to him, and there's no way in the foreseeable future for that to change. "Sorry. It was out of line" There's some history between the sire and his childe. He decides to back down for now, but there is but one thought in his mind when she is finished discussing it.
The fuck you don't know.
He laughs, dryly, when Cynthia comments about restoring things. "I know, right? One night some big time vampire is here, and the other he is gone with the wind, and everything he touched falls apart. Covenants, offices, places. Meaning the new people, like us, have to do all the heavy lifting. Makes you wonder if five years from now we'll be top of the food chain or a long forgotten memory" With how things fluctuate here, both were a possibility. They could be like Alice, a year and a half in the Domain and already a Seneschal, or like the countless faceless, nameless people nobody talks about anymore.
"Promises?" He looks a little surprised "The only promises I can make you and be certain to deliver are these: the promise of a purpose, and that if some art critic gives you a bad review he's going to eat through a straw for the rest of his life" Apparently, the Bishop learned nothing about not making that kind of jokes (?) around her. Or maybe he just assumed that if she didn't run away by now, she's developed a resistance to the Priest's peculiar sense of humor. "I wouldn't know what to ask for. So when the place is ready I'll give you a call, so that you can get its feel for yourself and take it from there" Honestly, he knew nothing about abstract art, and next to nothing about art in general. Longstreet was sure, however, that something can be worked out a little closer to the opening night.
That's what I call a good Scene! Want to slowly head into the wrap direction?