An Open Invite

[Anton]

Anton stiffened, instinct licking a line of warning along his neck. He brought his gaze back to the elder he'd only glanced at - as she'd moved over to the coffee table, and even then, with full intention of putting her out from his periphery by looking at Valentina - and was now taken quite by surprise.

With a rather a deer-caught-in-torchlight look, and a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, Anton sunk back into Keane.

"Uhh. I don't drink. At all."

Anton knew he should pitch his tone more politely, but in his defence, he didn't have - and Anton rarely found himself doing things for elders unless he had to. But more disarmingly...

Jean Jaques had subtly stepped in. This was perhaps the only thing that could arrest Anton's attention right now, and pull his gaze away from Aurelia. Immediately, his expression turned blank, as confusion warred with reluctant gratitude.

[Laurence]

“Now I have seen an example of how to play I believe I will join in the next round.”

Laurence stands, removing his tailcoat and carefully checking his clothing to ensure its as tight to his body as it can be.

“Truly Elder Aurelia, you are an role model for all those who consider themselves warriors or soldiers.”

[L .]

Aurelia cast a distracted look to Jean Jaques. "Of course, neh, you were helpful to me earlier. Unlike some people -" she threw slyly. Realising her slip immediately though - there being Keane, Valentina and several others who fell into that category without malice - Aurelia stumbled.

Suitably deterred, and with Laurence's complement warming her back (with she returning a grin and gentle thanks), Aurelia could only say, "Fine. Do not drink. Of course you don't have to." Before giving Anton a tight smile. She nudged the teapot towards Jean Jaques and took a seat beside the Malkavians, forgoing the lovenest near Valentina to claim the single leather chair on Anton's side. She set her own cup on the floor, folding the black dress under herself; its short train pooled beneath her like ink, but shone irridiscent as oil.

"Can I ask why, just a personal preference?"

[Anton]

Fury detonates, as with it: helplessness; a stressed feeling of entrapment. The walls felt like they were closing into Anton.

Anton didn't have long to consider his words. But he was sat there with his Primogen and a room full of witnesses, with a safe way of getting home. He cleared his throat marginally, and tried to stem his nerves.

"I don't mean to be graceless, elder, but I'm under no obligation to answer that. And I don't want to."

He considered shifting upright, perhaps to give Keane a little space to move if needed, but realised that would take him closer to where Aurelia was looming daintily on the edge of her chair, like some carrion bird.

[L .]

Aurelia crossed her leg over the daring slit and leaned closer, balancing her elbow on her knee, and resting her chin lightly on the edge of her palm.

"Non, you are not under obligation," Aurelia agreed lightly. "None of us here are under obligation in Camarilla - by cold law - to respond politely, or be decent, or hold manners meagre enough to get by with. But is intelligent, no, neonate, to know which battles to choose and which ones to lose. You want to be frank, eh? Is that it? You are big boy? I will be frank then - if you can only eat small, simple words without wrapping."

"What is your little problema, mm? That you think so important to stare so long, with such vehemence? You think I do not notice? As a little girl, my father once cut out a boy's eyes for looking too long. I have done worse to far bigger boys than you. Mm - come. Ease my curiosity. Avoid, as you say, being a graceless peasant."

[Anton]

"What's my problem?" Anton spluttered, outrage and anger swirling into fresh nausea. And even knowing it shouldn't, that cheap shot hurt. Really hurt. He'd expect it from Dorian - maybe even from Raife, at a time when the boy was angry without a place for that anger to go. He'd expect it from most tossers and human aristocrats. But what did an elder have to gain by this?

What they always have to gain, Anton. Another person's humiliation.

"Good for your father," Anton snapped. "Surely an elder of your station isn't sinking to these sort of insults out of insecurity? You don't need us peasants to wax the varnish on your nobility, as you rightly point out. Why I drink or not is none of your business. Why I like or don't like someone - when I am not even talking to them or insulting them in any way - is none of your business. And I'm not going to do anything with your curiousity, least of all ease it."

[L .]

In other circumstance Aurelia would actually like this boy. A plucky Malkavian. They were rare gems these nights.

But:

Good for your father -

Aurelia saw red. Her hand snapped out and - in a lightning movement - she has Anton's chin in hand, he clutched under a vicelike hold, the black venom tips of her fingernails winking in the lamplight. By that same movement the elder'd tugged his head forward, and up, viciously, so that his body followed almost off the sofa; and he was forced to either catch himself on its edge or risk dislocating his own neck. Instantly, little beads of blood welled up beneath her nails.

"Guileless crouton! You have death wish, neh? How you survive even to Release with attitude like yours? Are you stupid?"

Aurelia wanted to shake him. There were so few assertive Malkavians who were willing to voice any opinions of their own, that when the world finally popped a few into existence - they inevitably got themselves killed.

"Listen to me you saucepot smasher. A patron is only as good as your attitude in representing them. A protector is only good if you don't break their shield arm."

[Valentina Audley]

Valentina, who had been looking forward to a distraction from the intriguing party game she wanted to, but dared not partake in, is more than a little miffed that Aurelia caught Keane's attention to the point where storytime got forestalled.

She listens politely to the explanation of Arawn and then as Keane stops talking she smiles, politely and says, "I see. Thank you for enlightening me Elder." The words are rote formality, with none of the enthusiasm a proper story would have garnered.

And with that she turns her attention fully to her sewing, her aura soothing from unhappiness to absorbed interest as she settles herself fully into her work.

It is rather a surprise to her then, to have her focus abruptly interrupted by Aurelia grabbing Anton. Good Lord, what had she managed to miss? She glances round the room, her eyes wide and startled, thinking fast. Clearly something had happened and needed soothing.

She was neither old enough or invested enough in either participant, Keane might but her earlier vexation prevented her from considering him, Dukes might? But she was unlikely to compel him, Grace.... No. Not as it was Anton. Then her gaze alighted on Aldrich. He still owed her for the tie. She throws him her best beseeching look, hoping he'd get the hint.

[Lady Grace]

Grace watches Valentina's appeal to Aldrich as a distraction from the very pleasing scene unfolding.

She had been stuck in horrified fascination watching the new game but now, Anton was in trouble with someone other than her and it was delicious. A grin slips across her features.

No need to interupt. I wonder how far this will go before Aldrich calls a halt to it? Obviously Keane will fail again to get a handle on the boy.

This evening was becoming such fun.

[Lucius Servius]

Having deliberately avoided the disgrace of partaking in whatever abominable game they ended up playing, Lucius now took his amusement from watching Anton squirm. He couldn’t remember quite what the neonate had said – but he had no doubt it warranted the response he was getting. Besides, was he an archon? Thankfully not. Was he responsible for what occurred in this room? Certainly not. Yes, Lucius would step in if things started to look fatal. But until that time, let the elder have her satisfaction.