Step into my office, Seneschal.

[Lawrence Taft]

"Honeyed words?" he asks, purposefully blunt. "Or do you truly see independence as an admirable trait? I don't ask this to cause tension, Seneschal, but to understand." Speaking highly of him to sway his opinion would be a waste of words. But she has her reasons. Her own story. Again, Taft questions her sincerity.

"If the Prince and the Archon haven't mentioned it to you on their own, it would seem my craft is not in high demand." Conversely, she could already know. Merely asking to placate him. But he stands to gain nothing without trying. "I manipulate the bonds of the blood to gain knowledge hidden behind the fog of time." He wouldn't add the other part. That reveal was for her Majesty alone. "The practice requires that I consume the blood of Kindred, but the benefits remain for as long as I wish them to. The act of forging this bond only requires a single taste."

Taft's expression remains neutral for a long moment. He both had and hadn't expected the second. The first and last simply were. "Thank you for being so straightforward. Being cryptic has its uses, but I find the best way to get what you want is to be direct." The sincerity of his own admission matches the Succubus'. He tips his head. "I will repay your honesty with some of my own, though you may not appreciate it."

He lets out a slow breath through his nose, as the stolen life animates his cold, dead lungs. "I bear the First Estate no ill will, but the Prince herself may be the only one able to persuade me to join. Much like your reasons for meeting me, I was straightforward with her. I asked that she allow me to practice my craft. She, likewise, expressed her reluctance. Plainly. If this decision were overturned, I may be persuaded to lend my allegiance." Well... that may not be entirely right. Taft smiles a small, self-deprecating smile. "Or, rather, the loyalty the blood would demand from me would make loyalty to your Covenant all the more easy."

He pauses for a moment, studying the Daeva's, well, everything. That night at the Dive Bar had stirred things in the Shadow that he'd stopped paying attention to decades ago. Vivian truly is a remarkable specimen as well. "With as many beautiful faces in Court, I am surprised you take notice of me. You would not prefer another Daeva?" He wouldn't mention the man's name. Seneschal York's opinion of the man had been made abundantly clear... but lusts of the flesh don't often follow logic. "Perhaps an exchange? You can tell me of my Clan's prior influences in Sacramento, which would satisfy a need of mine. Then I will help you satisfy your... need."

[Lawrence Taft]

A more recent addition to her Covenant? How interesting... Taft nods once, but does not otherwise pursue the subject.

"It is easily practiced on the living as well as the dead." responds the Shadow, evenly. "Every meal I've enjoyed since the Embrace has brought new insight. But the experience is fleeting. It requires a close proximity with those I've fed from to maintain."

"Just so." Taft says, with a small smile. She isn't the first to reveal to him that they would do differently - in the Prince's shoes. Though it didn't seem like any of them meant it to discredit the ruling Savage. Certainly not Vivian.

"It sounds like you lead interesting nights." Not quite what he's come to expect from her Clan. The sex is most certainly still a factor... but her desires are what set her apart. "Maybe I've done you a disservice but revealing so much. Ruining the mystery and all." He'd meant it as a joke, though his smile is small and muted.

The Shadow's facilities become a little clouded. How long has it been since he's been touched? Excluding handshakes and the like, it had been quite a while. It felt good. Perhaps this is why Twist expressed pity for him when he'd told her of his 'lack of activity'. The pits of his eyes reflect the desire the Daeva's project. He almost finds it a waste to speak. "Never mind that. For now."

[Lawrence Taft]

That word: addiction. The sheer weight of it and what it represents to those in it's grip gives him pause. Taft gives her a pointed look, but does not nod. "Searching for truth takes us on interesting and sometimes perilous journeys..." The intent of his gaze and creasing around his eyes hint at what not answering directly leaves out.

Taft tilts his head slightly, intrigued. "I suppose I should consider myself privileged, then. To be worthy of meeting you away from work." The delivery is dry, betrayed only by an upward curve in the corner of his mouth, but clearly he finds amusement in his own statement.

He leans back from her whisper just enough to speak candidly and gauge her reaction. "Decades. I've poured most of my passions into my craft. But passions are passions, are they not? I have a certain appreciation for art, myself. And I imagine I wouldn't be far off the mark if I assumed you could perform... artistically."

[Lawrence Taft]

He doesn't doubt she could 'accommodate'. Though from memories he's nearly certain are his own... even the worst experiences in bed aren't all that bad. Before long, all desire to speak leaves the Shadow.

The smell of a woman so close to him is heady and sweet. Images of feeding and, well, fucking flash through his head simultaneously. It is all he can do to remain focused on task and not allow his imaginations to wander.

Even the taste of her lips begs his fangs to extend. To bite. Because that is what he does. Lawrence Taft: reluctant Priscus of Shadows feeds. But tonight he doesn't. He lets all the urges of a living, breathing man overwhelm those of the Beast.

I'm good for fading to black, unless Vivian decides to stop or leave (obviously).