Emerson was about to chime in with some more uncharacteristically sage advice when the phone in Ambrose's pocket beeped. He leaned back in his chair for a second, giving the vampire his privacy to check the affairs before pouring himself another glass of whiskey as he attempted to think about just about to handle this Lucius business.
The witch felt the warning signs the very second that they manifested. His pale blue eyes snapped from the glass he'd been filling to the infuriated vampire in front of him. The vision in front of him was something he knew vampires to be capable of, and yet he'd never thought that he would see it from Ambrose of all people. Swearing under his breath, Emerson silently channeled the incantations of a spell that would telekinetically bind the vampire in the place where he sat. He knew well enough the lightning-quick speed of an especially enraged vampire, and he could only assume the cause of his fury. As it were, he couldn't afford to try and talk the other man down from his place lest he lost him and all hell break loose.
"Ambrose," Emerson's eyes darkened physically though he maintained a level tone. "I'm going to need you to calm down." He stared right into the red-tinted gaze of his guest, unafraid even though a moment of faulty concentration could mean his own death. So much for keeping up the illusion that he was useless as a witch.