Heathcliff smiles as Dog departs, allowing himself a relieved sigh once the Gangrel is out of sight. Not dead? Good. Get to work, then. Heathcliff moves into the Room, taking in the rows of labeled jars full of the ashes of Grimm's failed experiments, the cold steel tables, the powerful restraints, the Rube Goldberg-esque equipment that all seems to end in something sharp or nasty, like oversize needles and giant pliers. Heathcliff suppresses his imagination for the time being, but his day-mares in the weeks to come...
He sits at the desk and looks at the computer. The information is already being transmitted elsewhere, perhaps he can trace it, or stop it, or...
or what if something in Horizon's research could help Heathcliff lift the Curse? A cure...Beth...Rachel...
Heathcliff would be sweating, dead heart racing, if he were Blushing right now. As it is, he slowly removes a thumb drive from his jacket pocket and begins downloading Horizon's files. He puts his Cloak back on, just in case, as he waits...
Scene Ends. If Second Floor goes to the Basement, I'll bring Heathcliff in that thread.