Obsidian knocks on the door of Connelly's 'project', the M.C. Union. It is a few hours before dawn. An uncomfortable time for Obsidian, but a time when not many mortals were about, and most Kindred were winding down their hours.

Hopefully, there won't be any emergencies this late in the night to interrupt us.

One of the Twins unlocks and opens the front door of the Bar, "Oh Hello Ms. Obsidian. The Boss didn't tell us you would be stopping by. Come on in." She holds the door open and once the Onyx skinned Woman is inside she closes it and locks it, "Mark is Upstairs in the Loft. He hasn't been down all night. He has been pretty pissed about what Jayne found out..."

"Thank you," says Obsidian, as she heads to Connelly's loft.

I hope that is mortal affairs. Maybe some artwork and B&E lessons will change his mood.

Obsidian finds the door open a crack and when she lets herself in she finds Mark staining at his easel. Shirtless, barefoot with splotches of paint on his arms, chests, face and feet. Around him are Paintings, Sketches and drawings of all media. His table is on its side and pushed up to the wall. On the floor where the table was is a abstract mural of Reds, oranges and yellows, mixed with blues and greens. He looks pale and malnourished.

"Mark?" says Obsidian as she approaches. "Are you okay?"

Her Beast twitches.

It is not wise to approach Kindred in this condition.

But this was her friend and colleague, and she was concerned.

As Obsidian entered the room further she would see paintings that vaguely resemble people she recognizes. People like Dirge, The Reeve and even Prince Clark. Mark stands in front of his easel working on a painting of a woman with raven hair. Mark Hums to himself as he paints....

Obsidian relaxed as she realized he was just lost in his art.

"Mark, you made me nervous. I've never seen you in full artist mode. Maybe I should take advantage of your mood and ask for some lessons. It appears you have much to teach me."

My sketching skills DO need refinement.

Mark finally seems to come out of his trance and turns around, "Oh hey 'Sid sorry Ah didn't here you come in."

Mark sets down his brush on a side table "Sorry bout the mess..."

His hair is disheveled and his skin looks pale and his eyes jaundice but has dark circles around his eyes. "What can Ah do for yah."

"I figured this might be a good time to do some training. We are unlikely to be interrupted for regular business this late in the night, but we still have a few hours to play with. I could use some help with the sneaky B&E trade, but I could also use some drawing lessons, too. If you have the time."

I'm not sure if I like him better as the painter or as the pub-tender. Both come second to Ducati-Driver.

Mark walks over to the chair and takes his shirt off the back and puts it on."Sure we can do that." Walked walked into the bedroom and came back out with a big box of locks nobs and deadbolts. Mark set the box on the coffee table and pulled a black roll-up pouch out of his pocket. He unrolls it and in the pouches are a series of picks and small tools. "There that should be what we need." Mark said.

"Should I be asking if it is okay if I touch your tools?"

Obsidian's eyes go wide as she realizes that she is flirting.

Mark Connelly, what magics do you have that draw this side of me out?

"I'm sorry," she says, smiling, embarrassed. "What I meant to say was you appear to be well equipped." Again, she realizes possible implications. She touches her fingertips to her forehead above her sighted eye and rubs. Knowing that there was no real way out of this, she decides to distract with a tangent.

Looking up at Mark, she says, "So, how are things with Dirge?" She can't rid herself of her embarrassed smile.

Mark smiles at the Onyx skinned pagen, "These are a bit of a collection. Your not the only one working on there skills. Yah can touch anything yah want." He winks back.

Ah the Dirge issue, I was wondering if she would bring that up when I saw her next.He thought

"Things with Dirge are fine." Mark says with a definitive period.

Obsidian nods and looks to the tools, not knowing where to begin. They didn't look like much, but she wasn't sure how they were used.

I'll have to get with Dirge. I haven't been this curious about someone else's personal interests in decades.

"And these are the testing grounds?" asked Obsidian, gesturing to the box of door bits.

"Yeah these are what where Ah started. So do you have any experiance in Larceny at all? Or are we starting from scratch?" Markos was already enjoying himself, it was nice to be teaching again...

"I know more about motorcycles than I do about felonious skills, and the only thing I know about motorcycles is what I learned on the back of your Ducati."

"Ah know Ah still owe you another ride, but Aight so back to the beginning." Mark holds up a standard looking door knob with a lock build into it. "This is the standard you will be working with for most homes. Well this and this." He grabs a Dead bolt with his other hand. "Standard Handle lock works with a set of tumblers. When those tumblers are in the right position the lock will turn free. Hence your house key, Or crypt key in our position. With me so far?"

Obsidian, an experienced student, nods as she watches and listens. Her years in the Invictus trained her well to be a student. Now, under the guidance of the Crone, she learned quickly.

Mark gets off the couch for a minute and goes over and grabs a book of the shelf. When he comes back he open the book to a Page that has a Diagram of a Knob lock and a Deadbolt. "Knobs are easier Most people don't think much about there door handle. Its Deadbolts that can me tricky." He takes out a Deadbolt that has been broken open so she could see the inside of it. "Dead bolts require a little more savvy. So this is where we are gonna start." Mark picks up a random deadbolt out of the box and his tools. He takes out two of the picks and dives into the lock. In about 20 or 30 seconds he twists and the lock is open. "Its gonna be easier when the lock isn't in the door but its still a good place to start."

Over the next Hour or so Mark goes through and explains too Obsidian a basic pick set and the uses of each pick. As he is doing so he walks her through opening a series of dead bolts and handle locks.

He is right, people, including me, don't think much about their locks.

"Will these methods leave detectable marks? Is that something that can be avoided? And what about the whole detection avoidance in general?"

Mark nods to her question, "That ahl depends on how forceful yah are. And if yah break off a pick in tha lock. Breaking ah pick is Rare but ah tension rod, that's ah little more common. Just remember its all about finesse. Finesse will get you in. Force that'll get yah caught."

Obsidian turns the conversation more towards stealth and subtlety for a short while, but eventually, she feels the coming dawn. only a couple hours away.

"Enough of business, please teach me something of your style of painting."

Mark smiles and stands up moving over to the paintings, "Well as you can plainly see Ah still have ah long way tah go before Ah am Painting any masterpieces. Ah am getting mah feelings out but Ah am trying tah learn to paint portraits and its not going so well. Mah abstract isn't too bad though.

"I have more practical needs in mind. Some of my rituals give me visions of insight, and a quick sketch is the best way for me to share those insights. Unfortunately, even a photograph of what I see won't convey the true meanings, but ... "

"I don't know if you were around for the recent Bloodhunt a few months ago, but I called up a few clues, sketched, then sent out to the Hunters via my cell phone. Unlike my Hierophant and yourself, I haven't as much interest in drawing or painting beyond the pragmatic."

"Maybe that is just a lack of ability, though."

"Well if sketching is what your looking for," Mark walked over to the bedroom and came back out again. "Here you go." Mark held out a leather bound sketchbook. When Obsidian opens it she finds textured rice paper.

"So, you are saying, practice, practice, practice?" she asks with a smile.

"Something Like that." Mark says with a wink. "So what's next? Painting or a Ride?"

"I want to watch you paint," says Obsidian. "Besides, the sun is coming soon enough."

"Ah she likes tah watch." Mark says with a flirtatious smile and a wink. Control yourself Markos...

Mark went over to his easel and set up a new canvas. Mark went through and refreshed his paints. Once Mark was all set up he turned to Obsidian, "Any Requests? Can't promise it will be good but yeah..."

Obsidian smiled a mischievous smile.

"How about a portrait of your Ducati?"

"Ah 'ave an Idea..." Mark went over to his sketch book and flipped to a blank page. He took about 10 minutes and sketched out a very basic picture of a Woman, standing in front of a motorcycle. "Does your belief's 'ave ah problem with snakes?" Mark asked not looking up from his drawing.

"Yeah, snakes. Circe would take a pound of flesh if I twitched at snakes. One of her 'friends' is pretty legless thing. What do you have in mind?"

Mark continued sketching away. Once done he held up a rough sketch of a Woman, standing in front of a Ducati Motorcycle. The Woman had two snakes coiled in her wrists and dreadlocks of Medusa-esc snake hair. Her clothing is not defined but the woman is not naked. "Well, what do yah think?"

Obsidian watched as Mark sketched, watching his hands, following the development of the image.

"Very nice. A friend of yours?" she says with a sly smile.

"Well, sunrise is approaching. I have enough time to get home, if I leave now." She stands, holding her new sketch book.

"You could stay here?" Mark said looking into her chocolate eye. He was being stupid, mixing business with pleasure like this. And with her being friends with Dirge it was making things even more complicated. But then again. Technician He and Dirge were not together officially but he knew it would be unwise to make an enemy of the blind Haunt. But at the same time, he couldn't resist her, or this opportunity.

Obsidian thinks about the offer. The thought had occurred to her on her own, but she would never have asked without an invitation. There was still enough time to make it back to the Temple, but this close to sunrise, a minor complication could lead to serious trouble.

"I will take you up on your offer, but there will be no impropriety," she says. her tone is still informal and friendly, but she means what she says. "I'll make a phone call so that my people don't worry." She pulls her phone out of her pocket. "And no fussing. I'm perfectly happy with a comfortable chair." She holds her finger up to stop any objections. "I insist, Mister Connelly." She says this last part with the same seriousness, but a smile is included.

"Yes Deputy but the Bed is far more comfortable." Mark says as he walks into the bedroom and comes out with a Large black comforter and a Pillow. He sets them on the couch and then again goes back to the bedroom and comes out with another blanket, this one a heavy quilt and another pillow.

Obsidian smiles at Mark's attempts to make daysleep more comfortable.

He still remembers the comforts of a mortal life.

"You are sweet, but I normally sleep on a slab of granite under a couple feet of cold water. I do appreciate your hospitality, though." Her smile is genuine.

"Well that doesn't sound like much fun..." Mark said as he hands her the comforter and one of the pillows. He then moves to the couch and lays down. Covering up with the quilt. "Would yah like me tah fill up tha tub for yah?"

"No, thank you, my friend," says Obsidian. She lays out the comforter, black to match her skin, and reclines down upon the pillow. "However, I do have an idea for a future painting of yours. A protrait of me, beneath the water, with slight waves or ripples upon the surface. I will bring a glow stick into my tub to give some highlights."

Obsidian relaxes, still marveling at Mark's Irish charisma.

"'How about you in ah antique footed bathtub?" Mark thought as he grabbed his sketchbook and continued drawing. "We could creatively cover anything yah don't want showen."

"I am not so modest as my manner may imply. Unless you are planning to present the artwork at city hall, creative coverings should be dictated by the needs of art. However, an antique footed tub ... that brings back some memories."

Obsidian doesn't explain further, but seems lost in thought.

Mark does not respond to Obsidian. Letting the woman drift off in thought as he sketched away. It wasn't much longer until day sleep took him. Pencil in hand and sketch pad on his lap.