[Sodium_noir] Hell is Other People

[Josh]

Jeremiah Buford and Ettienne St Clair
  Mostly Harmless Nosferatu and Toreador Master of Elysium
  Sinclair Mansion
   
  "I trust you are well? My spies tell me that you're still a force to be reckoned with in many circles!"
   
  Buford was slightly taken aback with St Clair’s blunt statement.  If he bandied his words around without care, then he was either incredibly assured that prying ears were occupied elsewhere or he was feeding those ears exactly what he wanted them to hear.  Could it be ennui?  Did the years of verbal fencing wear on St Clair as they did on Buford?  Or did he simply not care?  Or, could it be a clever bluff designed to make Buford think that St Clair knew more than he did?
   
  Damnable politics!  The Kindred invented all sorts of games to occupy themselves through the centuries that men weren’t meant to endure, and subtle political dominance games were their pastime of choice.  The possibilities of what St Clair meant were staggering, and Buford would have to mentally review this conversation later to see what his true motives were.
   
  He wished that he could simply trust St Clair enough to simply ask him what he wanted, but he knew how futile that would be.  He spent his previous life playing these same games with his superior officers, the men under his command, and the crème de la crème of society.  With the elite, directness could be considered weakness.
   
  Buford parried the question and feinted with his own.  “Are they still calling them spies?  I thought they stopped that when the Berlin Wall fell.”  He chuckled, trying to camouflage where he was directing the conversation in banal banter.  “But thank you for the compliment, however undeserved it might be.  And how is the Lady Sinclair?  Still trying to find a new wife for Allen?”
   
(Tagitty-dooh-dah-day)
 		
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