Kenneth slithered to and fro in the Caldarium wit two books and a notepad in his hands. Occasionally he would look down at one book illustrated and beautifully calligraphed. Then he'd check another, yellowish orange and small. Far too modern to match up with the tomb in his other hand. Then he'd write down a few notes; hiss in frustration and resume hi stalking from side to side of the caldarium.
He'd been at it for hours. He torturous task of translating entries from the tomb they had recovered was driving him crazy. This word meant that. Except in this case. Except what case was the word in? And did this word still have the same meaning after so many years!?
And worst of all he dared not ask his academic colleges. If Games was truely supernatural (and long established as a Kindred might be), could Kenneth trust that his questions wouldn't lead back to him and thus his family.
Gilroy sat down on one of concrete benches surrounding the glowing pools of the Necropolis. He knew who he had to ask. He just needed the wherewithal to do it.