The Regent Grand Hotel

Estela seems to enjoy to touch, tilting her head to the side and shifting her pose a little to give the Tremere more access to back and neck. She lets out a small, reluctant sigh at his words. “I know. Dammit, I know I'm running away from the problem this way. But I fear that if I stop to face it, I will merely be overwhelmed, and do who knows what! And at the same time, I know that it will catch up to me eventually.” She lets a finger trace a couple dots of paint idly as she says this. “You tell me to just embrace what I've become, but how? It's not like there's a manual out there for all this.”
The young vampire pauses for a few moments, then gives a small, honest smile. The gratitude in her voice too, is genuine. “I know you're being kind and rather patient too, with me. I really appreciate it.”

The Tremere Regent continues softly the touching, amused, as if he did it almost by reflex, by custom. He seems even a little nostalgic about it.
(Lyle) I cannot give you answers, I can make you ask yourself the right questions. I'll send you my bill.

He's not serious about it, he added it with an amused smile.
(Lyle) You must understand ; it can only grow more and more imposant and dangerous. You'll manage, it comes with experience.. Everything does. I want you to feed correctly tonight, and tomorrow, and every single night-

Lyle interrupts himself and gives a look towards the Chantry's door as it opens, revealing Tarcisus putting on his hat as he leaves the Chantry and closes the door behind him. Lyle gives him a polite smile when the Lord gives him a look, then another look to Estela, with a certain surprise and curiosity. Tarcisus approaches both of them ; whatever he was out to behin with has been replaced by the situation he finds interesting and wants to find out about.
Seeing his sire approaching, Lyle scratches a little the back of Estela's neck and lets out a whisper. He doesn't sound stressed, but he's not truly pleased about what Estela can guess is a Tremere.
(Lyle) Stand up and bow, I'll present you.

Estela can't help but give a small laugh, amused by Lyle's jest. “You're going to have to find out where I live first, mister! Unless you're going to send the bill to a random person in the city, in which case I'd like to see their faces.”
The short lived amusement is soon replaced again by a measure of seriousness as the Regent continuous, though some of it returns at the last of his words. “What are you, my mother?” The young vampire says with a semi-tired roll of her eyes and sigh, but a smile tugs at the corners of her lips. “You going to make me eat my vegetables too?” She crinkles her nose in a semi-cute way. “You can't make me!”

perception+empathy>4:

Noticing that Lyle's attention is elsewhere, Estela follows his gaze and looks at the new face observing them, or her at least, with curiosity. Her eyes widen, and she stares at the person as though afraid to let him out of her sights. As the obvious Tremere approaches them, it seems like she wants to move backwards, away from the man, but due to her seated position only moves closer against Lyle, her whole posture tense. It doesn't look like she registered what the Regent told her.

Lyle:

Auspex 2, perception + subterfuge>3:

The Regent can't help a smile, hearing Estela's not wanting to eat her vegetables.
(Lyle) I'd be a terrible mother..

The Lord stands in front of both kindred, at a respectable distance, but close enough to be into the conversation. Lyle taps a little Estela's shoulder, to invite her to stand again, but seeing it doesn't do much, he lets it go and puts his hand on her shoulder letting her be against himself.
(Lyle) This is Estela Aguilar, a very confused fledgeling. Estela, this person is Lord Tarcisus ; my sire.
(Tarcisus) 'Lord' is a Tremere title to those under my jurisdiction, young girl, you may not use it. Confused ?
(Lyle) Confused.

The Tremere takes a nearby chair to sit, interested, curious. Lyle gives a look to the young Malkavian, intrigued by the tension, but without calling her on it.
(Tarcisus) Afraid, yet in the arms of my childe ?

The more she shows her fear, the more interested and curious the Lord becomes. He stays on his seat, observing, analyzing, before finally setting his eyes full of questions on to his childe.
(Tarcisus) Gangrel ?

Lyle shrugs a little, taps slightly Estela's shoulder, allowing her basically to hide in his arms. He takes one of her hands and moves it a little, with the obvious and clear intention of showing his sire the paint.
(Lyle) Toreador. A mere intimidated fledgeling. Were you going somewhere ?

Disappointed, Tarcisus lets out a long sad sigh.
(Tarcisus) Oh... Oh well. Yes! I am going to the docks. He adds with a certain deep and serious tone. Do not worry my childe, I won't sabotage your plans. I've finished what you asked me.
(Lyle) Thank you. I'm not worried. Have a nice walk.

The Lord stands and bows the head slightly to one and the other, taking firmly his cane in his hand. With a joyful smile, he adds.
(Tarcisus) Have fun, childer.

The Regent can't help a smile in return, before giving a look at Estela as Tarcisus takes his leave.

The long, observing stare unnerves Estela greatly, her eyes flickering from side to side as though to look for a way out. She's also avoiding meeting Tarcisus' eyes, though at the same time tries to keep him in her own sights as much as possible. At Lyle's touch on her shoulder, she jerks slightly, startled, but lets him move her arm. Whenever he lets go however, she pulls it back immediately.

The young vampire follows his movements warily as the Tremere Lord rises and walks away. Only after he's left her sight does she begin to relax. A shuddering sigh escapes her, and she wraps her arms around herself, leaning her forehead against Lyle's shoulder. Her body still quivers slightly, but it's easing away slowly.
“I-I'm sorry,” Estela whispers as soon as she's found her voice again. “I just...As soon as I saw him.” She shudders. “I don't...I don't know why.”

The Regent shrugs, quite uncaring of the apology. He puts his arm of around her, a little lower so to allow a certain embrace, but he takes his phone with the other hand to open it and give it a look.
(Lyle) You'd be dead if he was still Regent.

He gives a more serious, deeper look to Estela, as he puts away his phone.
(Lyle) I know people hate and fear him, but that was a little over the top. I can only guess that you sensed his Beast. Or something else, which wouldn't surprise me to be honest. I've never witnessed someone feeling safe with me. You are aware you shouldn't, aren't you ?

Estela lets the Regent put his arm around her, taking some comfort from the one armed embrace. She can't suppress another shudder at the Regent's words, her fingers playing with the fabric of her shirt just to give them something to do.
“I...guess.” She answers hesitantly. “I suppose I should be grateful he's no Regent anymore then.”
She tries to smile a little, but it's a weak and shaky one, devoid of the usual cheerfulness. It doesn't last either. The young vampire pulls her knees up, and closes her eyes with a small shake of her head. “I don't know. I...I really don't know why I reacted that way. Just...when I looked at him...It chilled me to the very bone, and a part of me just wanted to get out. To put as much distance between me and him as possible, but at the same time, my body barely wanted to respond. Like I was frozen on the spot.”
She finally looks up to meet Lyle's eyes, a somewhat guilty looking smile playing along her lips. “I've heard enough to know that I shouldn't. Can't seem to bring myself to...well, care enough when I actually am around you.” Estela looks a little embarrassed as she says this.

The Regent can't help a smirk when Estela mentions she's glad Tarcisus isn't Regent anymore.
(Lyle) Many are glad he's been promoted far away as well.

He doesn't seem to include himself in it, but it's hard to read whether he is happy about it or not. Either way, he now has the seat his Sire once had. He shows a certain interest to Estela's reaction, obviously intrigued by her words, he observes her carefully as she speaks.
(Lyle) You react to him as viscerally as Claudia does to me. Now, there is nothing to fear anymore from him, yet I wonder if it is not part of the Malkavian perception your clan tends and claim to have. Even if what you sensed in my sire is certainly present in me as well. He gives a small smile to Estela before stating. I am far more dangerous. I might run a few tests if you don't mind.

He's not really asking her permission, thinking it would be granted by default. He gives a glance to the Chantry's door and lets out a slight sigh.
(Lyle) I still have work to do, delegating work always ends badly when they're stressed. You should go hunt and maybe go to other Elysiums, to get used to faces and customs. Maybe Gosuin's available to keep you busy.

There is no certainty for the Tremere that the Prince would, but offering services to a Prince is always a great way to avoid going home. Lyle's showing he was attentive to Estela's problem, even if his solution (or patched solution in the meantime) isn't as interesting as it could be.

Estela sends a sidelong glance at Lyle, her head tilted a little in curiosity. “Many. You mean that you're not?” She gives a small shrug, the gesture a careless one and indicating she wouldn't mind not getting an answer to her idle question.
At the mention of Claudia, the young vampire looks away again, a frown creasing her forehead. She lets out a sigh, her expression relaxing again and head shaking slightly. “I know she doesn't like you. At all. Fears you too. Well, I can't really say for sure what she feels exactly when Clau is around you, but she didn't seem to be all frozen up. She just seemed uneasy, maybe a little on edge too, but nothing more than that.”

Estela returns the Regent's smile with one of her own, nudging him slightly with her elbow. “Perhaps you are. Or maybe you're just trying to push others away by saying that, so you can be without people bothering you all the time. As for those tests.” She shrugs. “I have a suspicion you'd do those with or without my permission, you being a complete and total bastard. Fine, I guess. Long as you tell me as much as you can about what you do. It's about me after all.”

Her expression falls when Lyle mentions his work, and suggests she find something to do so he can tend to that. Still his honest and well meant advice on what she could do is met with warm gratitude, despite her visible reluctance.
“I guess...” she mutters softly. She doesn't move yet though.

Lyle openly ignores the question about him being glad or not that Tarcisus has left the city. He does give a slight smile to let her guess, or at least to tease her into the doubts. There is no way to know the truth behind his behavior, but it would seem logical that as he has been promoted to Regent and Primogen with Tarcisus' being gone, Lyle could only benefit from his Sire's promotion. He looks a little thoughtful as she mentions Claudia's feelings, but he waves it away to chuckle.
(Lyle) Good. An apprentice should always fear her Regent. But she is never around me more than necessary ; can't blame her, I don't like being around myself either. I'll tell you what you'll need to know in a given moment. But I am no bastard, fledgeling, my mother would certainly disagree if she were alive.

Seeing Estela herself doesn't move, the Tremere stands, slowly, and catches his pad and keyboard.
(Lyle) And you wouldn't want to make her angry ! He smiles about it, obviously joking. Eventually, you'll manage. but I'm too much of a bastard to care about it, so next time we'll see each other you should be a confident neonate. Get it ?

Estela seems to disagree with the part where Lyle claims apprentices should always fear the Regent, but makes no comment on it, aware that it would most likely be a waste of time and effort. “I think I'll take my chances,” she says in answer to the Tremere's words about his mother, grinning.

Disappointment briefly flashes over her features when Lyle rises, robbing her off her comfortable backrest. She lets herself flop backwards, putting her arms behind her head as a makeshift pillow as well as allowing herself to look up at the Regent without straining her neck.
“I'm always confident.” Estela says with a small, feigned indignant huff. She then smiles coyly and shrugs, running a hand through her hair. “About certain things. There's just to much weird shit going on, like I'm stuck in some twisted fairy tale. Can't promise anything, but I'll try to adjust. You've been a big help in easing some of my mind. Thanks for that.” Her gratitude is clearly honest. “I really appreciate it. Even if you're still a bastard.”

The Regent nods as he hears the words.
(Lyle) Weird shit will always get weirder. Who knows, maybe my mother will come to haunt you because you insulted her fidelity.

He doesn't believe it is a factual possibility, but he doesn't seem to rule out the idea of "haunting" as just a fairy tale. He smiles openly.
(Lyle) Sure I've been of big help. That he doesn't believe as true, but a Malkavian will believe what she wishes, and Lyle knows it. He dismisses the gratefulness with a hand movement. There is no try. Do and come back. I am keen to see you grow in this existence, so do not disappoint me.

He steps away towards the Chantry door, letting her respond to him before he steps inside.

“Well I look forward to that,” Estela grumbles sarcastically before letting out a sigh. “Your mom's welcome to haunt me though. I wouldn't mind getting to know some of your family.” Her amused tone of voice suggests she doesn't believe this would ever happen. She rolls her eyes a little and smiles. “Yes, there is a try, and I'm going to do it. Just give me some time.”
Her smile widens. “I'm sure we'll run into each other again.” She raises a hand to wave the Tremere off. “You enjoy your work without me.”

The young vampire remains in the room for a couple more minutes, just staring at the ceiling with her arms beneath her head. She then lets out a small sigh, pushing herself up from the couch, and moves out of the Hotel, giving a friendly nod to the receptionist as she does.

A relatively short, male figure standing at perhaps just at 1m60 and appearing to be somewhere in his early thirties, enters the Hotel shortly after the sound of a disengaging motorcycle. He looks a bit worse for wear with the dust of several days, or nights for that matter, of travel clinging to his blond hair, handlebar mustache, and clothes: a black leather motorcycle jacket, straight, custom fit black pants, and dress shoes with a slight heel. With his left hand he carries a laptop bag that has seen better days over his shoulder. Despite the somewhat dis-shelved appearance, he carries himself with a certain confidence as he walks through the lobby of the prestigious hotel toward the receptionist, with the stiff gait of someone who'd just spend quite a while in the saddle of a motorcycle.

Coming to a stop before the desk, Christopher Orlov shifts the weight of his bag so that he doesn't need to support it with his hand, and plucks one of Samsung's android driven phones from the pocket of his pants. He scans the lit up screen for a few seconds, his expression remaining neutral, then shrugs and puts the device back where it came from, icy blue eyes fixing themselves on the lady behind the desk. “I'm here for Lyle. Tell him Chris is here.” His tone carries an authoritative and commanding air about it, as well as an edge of impatience.

The receptionist welcomes him with a certain curious look, as he doesn't really look like Hotel resident material. She lets him finish his business and once he asks her the magic words, she nods.
(Marie) Please follow me.

She leads him to the room the Tremere use to greet visitors, while she takes out a phone and types in what seems to be a short text. She invites him to wait there.
(Marie) You will be greeted shortly.

She leaves him there not even waiting for an answer. It takes Lyle no more than a minute to walk out of the chantry, his phone in his hand, wearing only his shirt and pants (no vest). He seems surprised, thrilled, then annoyed, then worried. He approaches hastily.
(Lyle) For fuck's sake. We can't stay here, it's too dangerous. Come with me. 

If he refuses or questions, the Tremere will drag Chris with him. He walks upstairs to one of the suites, ignoring the head bows of the few staff members they cross (mostly room service). He opens up a room without using the necessary card.
(Lyle) We'll be able to talk freely here. The fuck happened to you ?

He sounds interested but not worried.

Chris follows the receptionist to a room and lets his eyes roam around in it. He gives a short, curt nod at her words to show he heard her, but otherwise ignores her departing. Instead, he alternates his attention between the doors and windows, as though he's expecting the worst and planning potential ways out for himself.
At Lyle's entrance, he first tenses up completely, ready for both fight or flight, then, realizing who entered, he relaxes, relief visible on his features. He doesn't argue with the Tremere's words, though he cannot seem to contain a small smirk at the displayed emotions. Without saying a word, he follows Lyle through the hallways, his gaze lingering slightly on each mortal they come across before being torn away almost reluctantly. The privacy and relative safety of the opened suit seems welcomed by him. He moves to the nearest seat that doesn't put him with his back toward the door and sags down heavily, wincing slightly as his back makes contact with the back of the sofa.

“What happened,” he starts slowly while placing the laptop bag on the ground besides him. “Is that I was so incredibly loved that no one wanted to see me go, unless it was over their dead bodies. And there were quite a lot of them. Apparently, digital communication can work against you just as easily as it can work for you. Until the border between Spain and France, I was constantly hunted and assaulted. Even after entering this country some of the more persistent ones continued pursuing me.” Chris shifts his weight in the seat and unzips the leather jacket with his left hand, then shakes it off his shoulders, revealing a torn, bloody mess. His entire right arm is missing, ripped from the body in its entirety. Black shadows clot the area around his shoulder to ensure no more of his blood could escape through the wound. His shirt and the coat of his two-piece suit are stained with dried blood and cling to the body, revealing a few of unnatural dents, that suggest broken ribs. There are also a number of tears and holes in his clothes where weapons had managed to come close enough to leave a mark.

perception+alertness >5:

“They managed to ambush me shortly after sunset...the previous night I believe. Rather interesting how things have a tendency to blend together when you're on the run.” He gives a humorless smirk. “And here I'm still unsure whether I should call your message and outstretched hand a godsend, or curse Him for another sadistic prank at my expense. What'd you have in mind when you said you'd set me up, and how long can I abuse your hospitality before some Prince and/or Regent starts howling for my head on a silver plate?”

Once both are inside, the Tremere closes the door and locks it. He listens and observes, without showing any disgust, nor even surprise. He even smiles with amusement, teasing.
(Lyle) That's tough love, man. You look like hell. I suppose you haven't taken care of your wounds because of the thirst, uh? To be honest I didn't think you'd take me by the word. I can give you hospitality for some nights or so, here, and give you a way to mask the stains you wear.

He means the aura. He seems distracted an instant by something Chris wears around his neck, curious, but he shrugs it off.
(Lyle) Of course, if you do take my needed, white and honest open hand, you'll have to bend to some rules. Don't worry about keeping your head attached to your body, I'll manage with the Courts. A bastard like you on the run could be an asset. I wonder, you don't happen to know about recent raids, don't you ? Some idiots thought it'd be a good idea to bomb and raid a chantry and a Brujah Elder's personal domain.

He smiles openly and unbottons his left sleeve.
(Lyle) Since we're at it, how desperate for blood are you ? I guess you're not the kind to be afraid of blood bonds and I'm in a good mood. A hungry kindred in a hotel is never good.

Chris scoffs at Lyle's words, though does appear to be a little amused by them as well for he grins slightly. “Oh really? I had no idea that I wasn't looking like my normal, handsome self. It's just a flesh wound. Perhaps you could procure a mirror for me so I can see for myself?” He chuckles, gesturing vaguely toward the walls and the city beyond. “Through some stroke of luck I was fairly close to Bordeaux at the time I received your message. I had originally intended to travel further north, perhaps even return to Russia, but I must admit that I'm grateful for the reprieve you offered. I needed a breather.”

“White and honest? You know those two words don't fit a bastard like you. You weren't even expecting me, you inconsiderate ass, and right now you're undoubtedly calculating how you can best profit from this poor, injured, innocent soul.” He shakes his head in mock exasperation and despair. “Already setting up rules to bind me here! Very well then, I'll listen to those rules of yours.”
At the question of his knowledge toward recent raids, Chris becomes a little more serious, taking the time to search through his memory before answering. “You mean besides the one I missed a couple nights ago? If any were planned, then word about them never reached my ears. Wouldn't have advised any kind of raid so far into Camarilla territory in the first place, unless it was to get rid of the whole group. I'm guessing you got all of them? Ah, I do know of one to be launched in the winter though, organized by some Tzimisce looking to make a name of itself.”

Fangs become evident at the mere notion of him being able to acquire blood. “Let me put it this way,” He grumbles, avoiding to look directly at Lyle to stay in control of himself. “Were I to burn whatever blood still remains in my body, I'd go on a complete rampage and put gluttony to shame. You're right that I don't have anything to fear of a blood bond forming, and as much as I appreciate the thoughtfulness of your offer, I do think I should decline. One drop would probably send me in a frenzy, and I'd rather not accidentally drain you dry. Unless you believe you're strong enough to pull me away?” He sounds doubtful.

Lyle can't help a laugh.
(Lyle) Luck, uh, what if I was actually tracking you down? Calm down, no, I wasn't tracking you. I just so believe in coincidences as much as once can. But you're welcome. As for what happened in December, we managed. Most of the city's kindred are young, yea, but it's still ours and we're certainly not giving it up. They obviously underestimated our forces. I'm not too much of a Sabbat scholar, that kind of shit is frowned upon by the clan (you know, "kill them on sight and that's all you need to know"). But I get the motives ; we're all power-hungry, megalomaniac assholes. So yeah we killed them all. We still suspect a few sellouts, but that's another problem.

He lets go a hand to his hair, to get rid of a few locks, and he takes out the earplug to put it on the nearby entrance table along with his phone.
(Lyle) I could take good profit from you. This is just a way to save your ass from court and find a couple of useful arguments to keep you alive. Useless shovelheads have nothing to give in exchange for their heads, but you do. That and you got a friend who has a few boons to use.

He rolls the sleeve and gets a little closer, but not enough to invade personnal space.
(Lyle) Thoughtfulness ? Ha ! No, I told you, I'm in a good mood. I could do it because I'm worried about your wounds, or because I'm afraid you'd hurt someone, but that's not even the case. I find this to be the easiest and safest thing to do. That and you'd make a fucking mess that would be a pain. Even if your Beast could overcome that damn ego of yours, I've dealt with a hunger frenzy already tonight, so one more, one less... Don't worry about draining me. Remember, I'm Tremere, controling my own blood is barebone basics. And yeah, in your state and despite your thirst and my tipsiness, I'm still stronger than you. Take what you need and we'll discuss the common sense rules after.

Chris lets out a sound halfway between a huff and amused laugh. His fangs are still out. “Because knowing your enemy is way to dangerous. Just imagine it actually being able to work to your advantage instead of luring in all the innocent little fledglings. I could give you my opinion on the suspected sellouts, but I'll keep it to myself. Your problem, not mine, and all that shit. What is my problem howevver, is you taking advantage of this secret treasure of knowledge bubbling softly inside my brain.” He smirks a little, resting his elbow on the armrest and his chin on the palm of his hand, the tips of index and middle-finger pressed against the side of his head. “Whatever makes you think I even have any actual knowledge worth sharing, hmm? Any shovelhead with a pair of working ears and half a braincell can find out a thing or two about raids.”
He pauses for a few moments, then shakes his head, making a dismissive gesture with his only hand. “Ah nevermind. I won't be able to keep that 'act' up long enough and it's not worth it. Give me time to heal up a bit and recollect my thoughts before the interrogations begin though.”
Eyes narrow slightly in a flash of paranoid suspicion when Lyle gets closer to him, his body tensing up for a brief second. He then forces himself to relax again, shaking his head lightly in mild bemusement at his own reaction. Chris turns his eyes to look directly at the Tremere before him, seizing him up, considering his words. Eventually he lets out a sigh. “Fuck, and here I thought I'd found my low point already. Fine then, you've convinced me. Sort of.” He motions for Lyle to come closer, to lazy to get up himself.

perception+subterfuge>4:

Lyle takes another step closer, leans a little, and shares a few thoughts before he gives his wrist to his guest.
(Lyle) Even if I'm no scholar, I still know far more than what the clan considers appropriate. And I know someone like you is no shovelhead.

He gives the arm, patient, attentive, but obviously tensed, in anticipation of what to come. The Tremere Regent is somewhat aprehensive, doubtful, and ready for anything, but oddly he doesn't flinch and doesn't hesitate on the choice he made.

Chris smirks challenging at Lyle's words, eyes now frequently shifting back and forth between the wrist and the Tremere. “Take a guess then. If not a lowly shovelhead, what was I?”
He doesn't waste anymore time when the arm is held out. He grabs it, pulling it closer to himself while he leans in simultaneously. Fangs quickly break the skin and Chris begins to greedily pull the blood toward himself without even trying to be gentle. He feeds at a steady pace, seeming to manage to remain in control of himself the whole time, though just barely.

After a while he lets go again, perhaps not entirely sated, but filled enough to quench the worst of the thirst. The vampire leans back in the seat and casts wary eyes at Lyle. “I'll admit,” he speaks slowly after a few moments of silence. “That I did not expect. You must be older than I thought, or at least have one old bastard for a Sire.” Chris narrows his eyes ever so slightly. “Either way, you're not the amusing neonate I had taken you for.”