All the color, all the designs and shapes. Each one caught Maria's eye as she gazed up and down their frame lengths. Her hands resting on the smooth velvity rope caressing it lightly, simply enjoying the feel under her hands.

Once the sun had set she had ventured out into the city, looking as human as possible. Adorned in tight fitting blue jeans and a black top that matched her hair up in a messy bun and black leather boots, she made her way, ignoring the people who stoped to stair.

Her destination tonight as for a different kind of pleasure. It had been long since she had seen anythign of beauty. Her own reflection had faded long ago, takign away her favorate thing to look at, but that was no matter.

She had entered the museum at quarter to eight, laeving her just under two hours to explore. And then after hours if need be really. It wasn't like anyone could -stop- her.

Now she was gazing uppon a field... Light yellow flowers carpeted the gently rolling hils, specks of small blue here and there, on a distant hill a wile hores reared on it's back legs. A mustang... Maesteneo... Untamed... Yes... She liked this painting... Perhaps...

Nafretiri stepped out of the nondescript black car, her shawl wrapped tightly around her and her hand clutching the golden handbag she’d chosen. Straightening herself out, she pushed the door closed as quietly as she could and nodded her thanks to her driver for the evening. Nikolai nodded her reply in return, a small smile gracing her lips. The two simply watched each other for a moment, before a similar, albeit smaller, smile graced Nafretiri’s own face. The mood was broken as the Egyptian woman turned to walk into the library, her black pumps clicking loudly on the pavement in the quiet neighbourhood where the museum was located.

The museum was normally closed around this time, but today it had remained open for whatever trivial reasons the administration had decided upon. Amandine and the other girls had urged Nafretiri to go and indulge herself by looking at the artwork. She’d refused at first, saying that she had pieces of art far more valuable in her humble home (that wasn’t very humble at all) than any of the pieces that the Demaitre Museum would hold. The rebuke had been that she’d seen all her own pieces far too many times for it to count, and that she therefore needed to go out. The mention of a certain Chinese man hadn’t been far from any of her girls’ lips, and the allusion had been there far too many times to count, but Nafretiri had pretended not to notice. She was not as overcome with emotion at the thought of Quan Lei Shen as her girls seemed to think.

She hoped.

In any case, she’d been convinced, and had thus dressed herself appropriately. Her dress this evening was a green only a few shades darker than lime, and came to just under her knees. It had an empire waist, and Nafretiri had added a stunning little broach in gold that she’d picked up somewhere in Europe around 1498. It made her look exotic, and she liked that. She’d liked the price tag too: only two hundred and forty dollars for the little thing. Nafretiri had never been one to shop casually. Indeed, it was jested that she had no idea what it meant. She cared little for it. If she liked it, she bought it. It wasn’t as if she wasn’t well off.

Walking into the almost silent building was like walking into a dream. The sound her shoes made echoed through the room, and it reminded her of great temples and halls, and merrymaking. Of course, most of those with whom she’d done the merrymaking were no longer alive. They’d long since turned to dust and ash and blown out of the pages of history. Only she still remained, keeping their memories alive. If ghosts existed, she had a country full of them following her around, she was certain.

The paintings stared back at her like windows to times past. She’d stop to observe one every moment or two, taking in the gentle brush strokes and the usage of colour in that area, or this one. As a painter herself, Nafretiri could tell some of them had had painstaking effort put into them. It made her proud on the artist’s behalf.

She turned to continue walking, when she caught the presence of another vampire. Oh, the girl wasn’t as old as her, but that was to be expected. There were very few who were. Following the small tingle within her abdomen, pulling on her like a string, she found the girl looking at a certain painting. Having no qualms about talking to a complete stranger, she walked up beside the younger vampire.

“It quite beautiful. The brush strokes are magnificently done.”

Maria froze as she heard the voice. The tone itself was not extraordinary but it was nothing she had heard before. With the words came a power, an ancient power that made her whole body tremble.

She had felt somethign like this before... The Vampire who had killed Michael... The one who had taken her lover, her maker.

"Mi Dios!" She gasped as she turned on guard, backing away from the woman who appeared at her side. "Rescáteme de los fuegos del infierno." Once a Catholic always a Catholic. Especialy if you were Spanish.

She could not fight one such as this, what did they want? Who was she? Was she a companion of the one who had killed Michael?

"Who.. Who are you?" Her voice trembled obviously, her own will was th eonly thing keepign her standing. "What do you want?"

Nafretiri raised a delicately plucked eyebrow. The feelings coming off this one were incredibly strong. Fear; undiluted and pure, rolling off this one in waves. It slammed into her again and again, until she was forced to take a step back and erect the mental shields she’d prepared for just such an onslaught. It made her insides quiver at the force of such fear. It had been a long time since someone had looked at her that way, and felt such things about her. It had been almost three thousand years, and that fear made her want to cry.

That didn’t, however, mean that she would allow herself to do so. No, tears were meant for the privacy of one’s own room, not in front of strangers that one had never met before. It went against decorum, and it showed a weakness that Nafretiri simply wouldn’t allow herself to show.

Ah. A Catholic. The Egyptian vampire pursed her lips. She did not pretend to love the Catholic faith. How could she when she’d seen the women they persecuted as witches burned alive? When she herself had been thought a devil and had had men hunting her? No, she did not love the Catholic faith with their one God, making her beliefs and the beliefs of her ancestors out to be nothing more than a game, played by people too ignorant to know the difference.

“I am Nafretiri Afrikaisi,” she said, her tone perfectly measured, showing no emotion other than polite interest. “I came here on an evening when I found myself previously unengaged. I want nothing from you, although I doubt my words will be fully believed until I walk away from you, leaving you unscathed.” Nafretiri’s lips became a fine line. “It would not do to judge one by the actions of another, if that is what you are doing. I have felt the fear of others that came with my presence for awhile, but not as yours is. I find it silly that you should fear me, if it is for the reason I suspect. The Amman, after all, are all ancients, but they are one of the most just covens.”

Turning towards the painting, she regarded it. “I can see why you would like this one.”

She was quiet as she heard the womans words. She looked younger... But she was infinantly older... almost ten times Maria's old age... But to one such as this... She was but a fledgling. Michael.. He had been just over three thousand when he had been killed...

"Sí, soy temeroso. Uno como usted mató a mi amor..." She said bitterly, forgetting that she was still speaking Spanish. Though if this Vampire were as old s she felt, she would know nearly every language on earth. "I know not this 'Amman' you speak of. But I know the ancients as fierce protectors. Why you killed him I still do not know, but I wish to." She said quite bluntly, some of her current fear turning in to the old hatred and sorrow.

"You say you are just. Then why murder him? What had my love done to deserve death, what had I done to deserve the lonelyness..." Her words tapered off as she felt drawn to the painting once more.

"But yes... It reminded me of my old estated back home... Nothing but sprawling urban trash now..." Her words were bitter once more, leaving an unpleasent taste in her mouth.

Sergei Drago, sever recluse and deep cover CEO for one of the most profitable corporations on planet Earth shuddered and nearly staggered as he reached the top of the museum steps. The man, Bjarnarson by birth, and vampire by chance or perhaps fate, was breathless as wrath pure and absolute rained over him, a hot wash as if a stew pot had been emptied in his lap. Sergei had not been ready for a mental assault though in truth it wasn’t one, not really, the vampire was too old to mistake the intense emotion for anything but what it was, but blast if it wasn’t annoying.

Putting up his own mental safe guard, Sergei took the last few steps upward and into the full light of the museum. Shaking his head, the Immortal could do nothing to get the vengeful and fearful words out of his rolling thoughts. The fury was sharp and fresh, the fear frigid and old. Even if he had not heard voices, Sergei would have been able to follow the emotions alone. He could still feel the edges of them through his protection. As things were though, he considered simply going back home.

Bjarnarson had fed, he was content for many more nights and he knew that perhaps it would be best to retire from this place. Old Odin One Eye was always a source of omens and it didn’t take even a fourth of his intellect to see that perhaps the mental equivalent of a sledgehammer to the skull might mean “Warning, beware.”

Of course though, as with the All Father himself, Sergei was now curious. He just hopped unlike the god of old that he was not forced to hang or make a sacrifice of flesh or eye. No, curiosity was not worth such. The All Father should have known better. Walking on, Sergei thought that perhaps he did, after all was he not knowing and going. It was foolish to say the least, actually more than foolish, because he knew better.

Following the sound of voices, Sergei took in the words.

“Who are you? What do you want?”

Sergei raised an eye brow, guessing that these same questions would grace him as well. The voice speaking was sharp, and high with panic and fury. Sergei didn’t have to guess this was the mind he had felt.

Walking on, his foot steps were near silence. The leather boots he wore were not those with the hardened soles that would have made a slow clicking cadence with his approach, instead they were simple leather without a heel. They rested flat and left the big Norseman at his keenly tall six foot-one stature. Or rather, in times of old he had been keenly tall. Now day, well the former Viking warrior was average. It made his acquiring of garments much easier, but then wealth also did that.

Sergei was well off and while one could not always be assured of this fact from his dress, given that he was rather partial to T-shirts and jeans, tonight there would be no mistake. Sergei was dressed in the most expensive silk and leather. His shirt was sheer and made of the Asian descended material, dyed a deep and exquisite blue that perfectly matched his ambiguously blue eyes. His eyes seemed caught somewhere between a high heat flame’s core and the deepest chill of ocean depths, a truly ambiguous color.

The shirt had an under layer of lace. This took away the silk’s sheerness and made it seem more respectable, yet at the same time old. The lace at the cuffs and throat was from a past age, but this was funny, considering the wearer was centuries the style’s senior. Sergei’s pants were fresh and good leather britches. Dyed black, they laced in the front. The vampire kept the laces from view with a thick black leather belt. All in all the Norseman had gone with something both comfortable and yet he hope would have been suitable to any mortal company he might face. Funny that the company he suddenly faced was anything but mortal.

Looking first at the beautiful darker skinned woman, who was a pillar of control and restrained power, Sergei could not help but laugh as he heard the other woman’s accusations. His laugh came verbally and he suddenly found himself embarrassed at such an outburst. Brushing his feral blond hair back from his eyes, the ancient vampire smiled his best smile.

It looked oddly human, given the measures he had taken to appear mortal, but there was no mistaking what he was. Here, standing before two others. Looking to the woman who’s anger had hit him, Sergei gave a slight bow.

“Please Miss. Calm yourself, we are not such animals. And besides this is a most public place, there is no telling whom maybe listening.”

Nafretiri gave an elegant shrug of her shoulder that meant nothing and everything. For such an impersonal gesture, she made it look otherwise. This girl seemed to be rooted in the misconceptions of her past, and if she didn’t control her emotions and her accusations a bit better, she would wind up getting into trouble sometime soon. Demaitre was, after all, home to a large number of ancients. If this girl – whoever she was – were to pick a fight with some random Amman member in the streets, it would not bode well for her. Why, depending on how far the girl took it (and from the looks of it, the revenge she sought could bring her quite far) she might even end up dead. A tragic end to a tragic existence, it would seem.

But then, Nafretiri knew all about tragic existences. There was a small little bubble of rage towards the girl, just small enough so that Nafretiri could accept it, and not give into it. A little voice whispered inside her head about how foolish the girl was to think she was the only one who’d ever lost a loved one. Indeed, Nafretiri had lost not one, but two extremely important people in her life, and more than a few that were not quite as important.

Sighing at the girl’s outburst, the woman used one hand to message her temple. “I have told you. I had nothing to do with your lover’s murder. I do not even know who your lover was.” She raised an eyebrow yet again at the girl next to her – for she was a girl in so many ways. “Tell me, do you often accuse innocent bystanders of horrendous deeds? I can’t expect that would be considered acceptable in society.”

Even as she said it, she felt another vampire enter the vicinity; another ancient. If Nafretiri were childish enough to stop her foot and whine, she most certainly would’ve done so. The girls had been wrong. While this was most certainly helping to get her mind off a certain someone, it was not going about it in the way that she would have liked. If this girl was already accusing her of killing this lover of hers – whoever he was – then how would she react when another ancient simply showed up? The girl’s wild conspiracy theories would go mad over the appearance of a second. A relaxing evening indeed. Thank you girls.

The man came around the corner, and Nafretiri turned her head minutely to observe him, her eyes taking in the curve of his jaw and his colouration. If she had to guess, she’d guess he was Norse, though one could never be certain, she supposed. She gave him a minute nod, showing that she had noticed he was there, and she acknowledged him. She also sent a warning to him, with a subtle glance at the one next to her. It was more of a precaution than anything, informing him that things with this one might get a little tricky and might need some careful maneuvering to emerge from it with no ill effects on anyone’s part.

It was times like these that Nafretiri sorely wished that she had telepathy and the power to erase thoughts from others’ minds. Should a mortal overhear this conversation, it would be a great thing to possess.

Giving another nod, Nafretiri said, “I agree. We must be ever cautious in a public place. It would not do to have mortal ears hear words they were not meant to. I’m not sure about either of you, but I have no prowess in the area of deletion of memories, so if we are overheard, it could cause quite a scenario to be dealt with.”

Nafretiri was more than accustomed with scenarios that needed to be dealt with. They were often gory, and never pleasant. She hoped that this girl gathered her wits about her and saw that.

With what she hoped was a comforting smile, she added, “Most of the world I have seen has become as you say. My native country, once the pride of Africa, is now considered a third world country.”

"No, it's just that when one is left alone..." She started trailing off. "One often wonders why they are without companions. And I have wanted to know for a long time now." She stated, her eyes dropping to the floor. "I wa-" She stopped mid breath. Something wasn't right. Her mind was screaming at her to flee.

She screamed slightly, only just muffling it as shesaw the other man, another vampire. One of the younger ancients it seemed, but an ancient none the less. Panic began to set in as he approached, her brown eye widening in terror as she tried to move backwards, nearly tripping over the velvet rope.

Calm down? How could she calm down? No, she was frightened. In so many years of existance she had felt longing, grief, lonlyness, cold and caloused many times, but only ever afraid for her already damned soul twice. And this was one of them. She was but a fledgling, a child to these. Their power far surpassed her own, meaning she would have no hope of surviving should they chose to end her existance.

She stood frozen, only kept from fainting by the fact they seemed to show no signs of agression. "Who are you! What do you want!" She demanded in a soft, trembling voice.

A slow and pleasant smile came to the Norseman’s features and his eyes though wide at the girl’s fear, took on a slightly mischievous glint at the dark skinned woman’s mention of memory deletion. He spared the upset girl one more glance then spoke in a soft voice toward the other woman. His voice was a softly cultured tenor that seemed to carry though his words were but a whisper. Whether such a thing was mere speech or more, maneuvering around the mysticism border of telepathy was up for debate, but the voice carried and it was soothing.

“Dear lady, I am capable of such feats. However let it be known that I indeed would rather avoid such things. I cannot say I enjoy toying with the minds of others, to have an ability and to use it…well I am sure you understand. It is not appealing.”

Looking at the other immortal now, he said.

“That is unless one wishes it of me.”

The offer was made, subtle and unspoken. The man then gave a slight bow to the fearful girl and his good humor sparkled in his ambiguous eyes. He looked infinitely patient and kind, despite his inhumanity that hung on him like a cloak, his skin pale and his hair so blond it was white, the effects of more than a sun free millennia.

“I am Sergei Bjarnarson, and what I want is…well what is it that any of us want? What does any man want with his existence? As for why I am here, well you my dear are not the only person in this city of ours that enjoys a pension for the astatically pleasing.”

He laughed then, lightly as if he had suddenly been told of grand joke. But swallowing the throaty pearls, he spoke again.

“Yes, dear child, I would ask you to be calm. I understand your fears, all that have the blood understand them, for once we were all without power over our destiny. Did you not entrust your life to your sire when you were made? Were you not weaker then? I am old, a very very old man, however know that I have no ill will against you or any other.” He gestured toward Nafretiri then. “This woman, she also means you no harm. Even with her mental shielding I can feel her concern for you. Please understand that whatever happened in the past, is past. And though we are both your elders, that does not give us any connection. The sin of one is not that of the many…”

As if to accentuate his point and to prove his words, the man reached a hand outward as if to help her recover herself. She had nearly fallen.

Here eyes grew even wider as the two talked of memory deletion. Surely they wouldn't do that to her! It was too cruel. Sure Michael's murder caused her greif and pain, but their time together had been so desierable... Thinking of such times kept her humanity. Hope, hope that she could find another to help heal the pain... Maybe that was why she was the temptress she was...

"No!" She choked out. "Don't you dare make me forget him!" Poor Maria, always jumping to conclusions. "I... I don't want too..." She trailed off as she looked up at the man. His face was calm, almost kind really, soothing some of her fears. He was smiling, as if he had been joking.

She gave a slight frown as he called her a child. Michael had called her that, until she bit him one time for it. They were older, and wiser of course. But it wasn't like she was compleatly in experianced. Nearly five hundred years was bound to leave you with quite a few lessons, the most important of these, never offend an ancient.

She stood up straight, refusing the offered hand. She had her pride you know, it was a quality of nobility, and she had. "I am Maria de Cordoba. I appologize for my actions but I am sure you can understand my distress." Her voice cool, almost unemotional.

It was a very good thing that Nafretiri had lived as long as she had. It had taught her patience; patience in even the most trying of situations. Very rarely did she ever let her anger show on her face, and it was the same at this point in time, even though this situation was proving to be trying indeed.

She let out a small sigh, barely audible, and touched one finger to her temple. Had she ever been so young as this? So paranoid? She wasn’t sure, but she certainly hoped not. The lesson she’d learned long ago was that one should not jump to conclusions. She still occasionally did, but that proved to her that there was some humanity left within her. This girl, however, was taking this to a completely new playing field. There was nothing they could say, it seemed, that would cause her to stop viewing them as the enemy.

Waving her hand in a dismissive gesture, she looked at Sergei. “That will not be necessary, if we can suitably control the situation.” Her dark eyes slid towards the girl, waiting for the wrong interpretation of her words to be taken.

There was a very large part of her that simply wanted to walk away, and pretend that this whole thing had never happened. Leave the girl close to hysterics, with the kind gentleman who’d just appeared, get in her car, go home, have a cup of tea, and retire to read some aged book from her large selection. It would not be difficult to do so. All she had to do was turn around, and walk away, leaving the poor girl to whatever emotions got the best of her. Would that be such a very bad thing to do? The part of her that was her conscience stated that it would be. The part that was her survival instinct said it most definitely would not be.

In the end, her conscience won, as it usually did these days. Nafretiri had lived too long to have the uncomprehending desire to continue life, and had witnessed first hand what happened when she didn’t listen to her conscience.

When the girl stood up, it warranted a delicate eyebrow raise from Nafretiri. Crossing her arms, she wondered if the girl’s voice was unemotional because she was trying to hide her emotions. She couldn’t tell at this point, and wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to know. Being overwhelmed by emotions that weren’t your own once in an evening was quite enough, thank you. It was not a performance she wished to repeat any time soon.

Deciding that now would be the time to offer her own name, she gave a nod to Sergei and this Maria. “I am Nafretiri Afrikaisi.” Levelling her gaze on Maria, she continued, “I understand your distress, yes, most likely far better than you yourself are aware, but that does not mean that I am impressed by your actions. I mean you no ill will, but if you wish to survive, you must learn to control yourself when in public, especially when mortals may hear or see you. Succumbing to fear – or any other emotion – is a very good way to reveal something by accident to a random innocent, and thus condemn yourself. It would be a shame to die now, would it not?”

Her words were blunt, but not harsh. They were spoken with an almost gentle tone of voice, much like an older sister reprimanding the younger for getting into mischief.

Sergei listened while Nafretiri spoke, nodding his head periodically, a not necessary wanted agreement, but agree he did with her. Everything this gracious woman had said to the other woman was true. They must always be careful in everything they do; it was what it meant to be immortal, what it meant to survive in the city, in the world for that matter.

Looking to the younger woman, Sergei gave her another slow, considering smile and then he said. “We do not mean to lecture you or rule our counsel over you, it is simply as they say. ‘Live and learn.’ Life is a teacher with many lessons, but sometimes it is best to rely on the word of others.” Hearing himself say this, reminded Sergei how very old he was, it reminded him of his sire and how she so often berated his efforts at most tasks in his young age.

‘Don’t be so lazy.’ She would say. ‘It can be done by you much faster, if only you’d put dedication in your heart.’ ‘Are you going to spend eternity, a child?’ Ah, she had had a bevy of corrections and responses, and he a bevy of ignorance and foolish certainty. They were oil and water, with his tongue being hotter than any flint spark. Looking back as he was now, Sergei often wondered why it was that she hadn’t ended him a thousand times over, or why she hadn’t driven him off. Patience was the answer, an answer that had become his first to nearly every situation.

Now, he was glad for this answer, and like most things it became a part of that softly amused undercurrent, that was currently his state of being.

His expression cordial, Sergei gave first a nod of thanks to Nafretiri, and then a nod to Maria.

“Ms. Afrikaisi, Ms. Córdoba, it is a pleasure to make both your acquaintances.” He said his smooth tenor alight with practiced geniality and belayed amusement. Amusement most likely that centered on their rather strange meeting. Still it was not a tease, simple amusement.

"I have said nothing that could possibly give away anything." She said, almost defencivly. "Besides. Humans these days pay little attention to anything that does not concern them." She said dismisivly, a slight wave of her hand. "They could hear about a horrible tragidy and if it doesn't effect them directly, they couldn't care less." Or at least that was what she had seen in her days.

"And if it weren't for the fact they fear what they do not understand and always have the strong desire to rid themselves of their fear we would not even be afraid for them to know us." Maria had never feared when she was human. Not of Michael. He had been so kind...

"But I undersand your words. I am new here, so I suppose that sooner or later I will come to understand the rules here." But untill then she planed on living how she always had. No need to change just yet. After all she had gone this long without giving the existance of vampires away. She must have been doing okay. "Preferably sooner than later."

She had questions for them, but unfortunatly this was not the place. Well, it wasn't the right place according to them obviously.

((OOC: I apologize in advance - I have no spellchecker on this computer. Therefore, my horrendous spelling might leak through, and you might get to see how bad I can really spell when I'm not trying. ... I once spelt 'from' as 'frum'. *cough*))

Nafretiri did her best not to do the childish thing in these circumstances. She was well over the age where it could be acceptable to behave in such a manner, and as such, the only time she really allowed herself to act as the petulant three year old she sometimes felt was when she was completely alone within the sanctum of her rooms. When she was in public, a public visage was needed. It was for this reason that Nafretiri only gave a miniscule sigh, instead of stamping her foot and groaning - which seemed really appealing at this point in time.

"Yes, screeching at us not to kill you is in no way questionable in the eyes of mortals," replied Nafretiri sardonically. She took a deep breath. "While you're right about motals seeing with eyes they themselves fashion, I don't think that is true of all mortals... Say, perhaps, a mortal whose job it is to seek out things that appear to be suspicious and find the cause of it. For instance, a security guard." She pointed to a figure in the distance. It was a man clothed in the usual blue outfit of premises police, as Nafretiri liked to call them. He was looking at them warily, his walkie talkie kept close to his mouth, but he didn't come any closer.

Now Nafretiri crossed her arms. "That very well may be, but the fact remains that they do tend to exterminate that which they fear. Unless you are aware of a secret that will stop this incessant trait within the human race that I am currently not aware of, I doubt very much that it will change. It has not done so in the three and a half millennia I have been alive, and I see no reason why it should start now. Therefore, caution is always a prerequisite to existence in the vampiric community."

She didn't mean to sound patronizing, though she was fully aware that at this point in time, she did. It seemed to her, however, that her patience was wearing thin lately, and she wasn't entirely certain why. She supposed it was because of that party (if it could be called such a thing) she attended a few months prior in which a slew of fledglings slaughtered innocent mortals without reason right before her eyes. Or, perhaps, it was simply just the fact that one reached old age, one forgot what it was like to be young and ignorant. Nafretiri sincerely hoped it was not the latter. She'd created many a childe herself, and if she was losing the ability to instruct them in the way that they needed to be instructed, well... She wondered if she'd let herself make another one, if that were the case.

Turning to Sergei, Nafretiri - for the first time that evening - allowed a ghost of a smile to cross her features. It was not large by any definition of the word, and indeed, it was barely visible, but there was a warmth in those eyes, coloured in a strange mixture of black, amber and chocolate brown that couldn't be denied. It was perhaps what saved her face from looking entirely unfriendly and unapproachable.

"The pleasure is mine," she said to him, using the time honoured reply. Despite the words that were usually used with flirtatious smiles, Nafretiri's simplie belied distant friendliness.

Sergei’s expression did not change as he listened to the two women’s words, though a few times he must admit that he was indeed forced to hide his continued smile, in case it gave away a bit too much amusement at some of the more pointed statements. Such things weren’t suppose to be funny in Sergei’s mind, but not one to ignore reality, the man knew also that they were amusing. It was simply important not to turn amusement into offense. It was important to him at least. Sergei the peacekeeper he was. This was a funny irony, considering the man’s heritage as one of the wolf shirts, Woden’s men.

“I am enchanted.” The former Viking warrior said as he smiled to Nafretiri’s reply, then in what was perhaps a gesture of cheek, or perhaps something totally brilliant in and of itself, the tall man waved at the security guard, greeting him as well.

“Good evening there Sir and how are you this fine night?” Sergei called.

The guard looked confused. He paused as if preparing to speak into his walkie-talkie. He looked at them, their little group for silent heart beats, his gaze most focused on the big man that had waved and then he placed the device back on his belt and gave a slight wave. It was a gesture of courtesy more than anything.

“Fine.” A rather coarse voice stated flatly.

“Good to hear it.” Sergei’s tenor said, sounding genuinely pleased.

The guard looked at the other man, stared him up and down, as if he thought to remember every detail. Even from current distance, Sergei understood that this was what he was doing and then the man looked to the others and finally turned, walking away suddenly.

Sergei’s eyes brightened then, and he regarded his two companions of the moment. Looking at Maria, he said.

“Caution is our bread and butter so to speak, however, courtesy never hurts either…you’ll be surprised the strange situations that bit of well placed speech can get you out of. We are in a city of many, and those many are all so individualistic that generality is less so. Normal I would say is becoming more relative.” His face brightened when he said that. It wasn’t as if he would stop taking his measures to appear more human anytime soon, but he would dare say that humans did let more things go unnoticed than they had centuries past.

“In that case,” he said, gesturing toward where the guard had been. “We were odd, a loud little group. No telling what he came to investigate, however the police no matter the affiliation, seem to think that anyone that is truly up to something would not want their attentions. So, attention seeking worked rather nicely. However, Ms. Córdoba this is only one of hundreds of techniques that you learn to take advantage of as you live in this city or any metropolis for that matter. As for rules, well they read basically as tact and civility. There are many inhabitants of this city and tact and civility will get you far with them all…mortal or immortal.”