01-10-2017, 05:47 AM
Pokk
Harlan rubbed his forehead in disbelief, staring at the long nosed manboy with a look of annoyance and incredulity. Well, this was definitely not how he'd intended for things to go. What was that about risk again? He wasn't quite sure how to play this, this motley gathering of people and new Primes all a bit frozen in shock and the hilarious awkwardness of the entirely unexpected. Except for two of them...
One, the kid with the hole in his neck, was gormlessly staring at his fingers and concentrating with a dopey smile, after a peal of laughter. The Ravnos concluded he could safely disregard that one for the time being. Dennis the Menace who'd shot him looked like he was about to piss himself, same conclusion. But the real threat was the tall, intimidating man with the priest's collar and the unecessarily reflective glasses. Harlan could feel his Beast raising his hackles, the blood boiling in his undead veins. By fucking Caine himself, the man had true faith.
"Well now...does seem a roight bit crooked, oi unnerstan that. But ah, oi'm not from a place you might call safe. Itz usually tha best course o' action to see what stranjahs are loike first before approachin." Christ, was he laying it on thick. He tilted his head at Anderson, the man positively bristling with intent. Was he...sniffing the air? "Yew don't seem to like me much, father. 'At's a bit disheartenin' to an old school Oirish Catholic like meself, always made it a point to pay my dues to tha church."
He kept his distance, spreading his palms wide to show he was visibly unarmed. "Name's Hendy. Vic Hendy, ta be formal. Gonna assume yer all in tha same boat as me, dragged 'ere by dis Omni fella?" Just play the bumpkin. Don't give them any reason to latch on to. He wasn't in the wrong; sure he may have been a bit overly brutal, but he could rationalize it away. 'Oooh, me poor 'eart is bleeding, oi can't control it sometoimes, I really am truly regretful'
If he could get enough of the saps on his side, then it would greatly improve his odds for survival. If not, well....he'd lived through the Week of Nightmares, played with both Sabbat and Camarilla alike. He had horrific memories up his sleeves to weaponize and send them fleeing.
Harlan rubbed his forehead in disbelief, staring at the long nosed manboy with a look of annoyance and incredulity. Well, this was definitely not how he'd intended for things to go. What was that about risk again? He wasn't quite sure how to play this, this motley gathering of people and new Primes all a bit frozen in shock and the hilarious awkwardness of the entirely unexpected. Except for two of them...
One, the kid with the hole in his neck, was gormlessly staring at his fingers and concentrating with a dopey smile, after a peal of laughter. The Ravnos concluded he could safely disregard that one for the time being. Dennis the Menace who'd shot him looked like he was about to piss himself, same conclusion. But the real threat was the tall, intimidating man with the priest's collar and the unecessarily reflective glasses. Harlan could feel his Beast raising his hackles, the blood boiling in his undead veins. By fucking Caine himself, the man had true faith.
"Well now...does seem a roight bit crooked, oi unnerstan that. But ah, oi'm not from a place you might call safe. Itz usually tha best course o' action to see what stranjahs are loike first before approachin." Christ, was he laying it on thick. He tilted his head at Anderson, the man positively bristling with intent. Was he...sniffing the air? "Yew don't seem to like me much, father. 'At's a bit disheartenin' to an old school Oirish Catholic like meself, always made it a point to pay my dues to tha church."
He kept his distance, spreading his palms wide to show he was visibly unarmed. "Name's Hendy. Vic Hendy, ta be formal. Gonna assume yer all in tha same boat as me, dragged 'ere by dis Omni fella?" Just play the bumpkin. Don't give them any reason to latch on to. He wasn't in the wrong; sure he may have been a bit overly brutal, but he could rationalize it away. 'Oooh, me poor 'eart is bleeding, oi can't control it sometoimes, I really am truly regretful'
If he could get enough of the saps on his side, then it would greatly improve his odds for survival. If not, well....he'd lived through the Week of Nightmares, played with both Sabbat and Camarilla alike. He had horrific memories up his sleeves to weaponize and send them fleeing.
“I don’t wanna be a product of my environment. I want my environment to be a product of me.”