Who: Tanith, Angeline, Eztli (NPC) and OPEN! To other AG employees and clients alike ;)
When: Early evening
Where: Ad Gustum
Tanith was in one
hell of a mood. Her big client of the day had put her there. The fact that she was now covered, from head to toe, in his blood did precious little to salvage that mood.
She hated these sorts of clients. The ones with…
special needs. Her services were tailored to meet them, certainly, but there was a limit. A limit to her own
dignity, for God’s sake, and when she had insisted as such, Domina had happily reminded her that it was a
very fine line separating Tanith from a common whore in the Ad Gustum hierarchy. She could play ball, or Domina would find someone who would. So Tanith had met this bastard’s… requirements. As ridiculous as they were.
It turned out that
this particular sad fanged bastard had been turned on his wedding night. He and his darling young wife had entered their honeymoon suite one fine August night in 1924, only to be attacked by a vampire. The little woman had been torn apart – he had been turned. He explained that he still felt a massive amount of personal guilt, having been unable to save his wife. He needed to be punished for his sins. And apparently was
just the special sort of fucked in the head to want the image of his wife to be the one to do said punishing.
The vintage, hand-sewn wedding gown Tanith now wore cost more than some people made in a year. This morning, when Tanith and her client had checked in to an Ann Arbor hotel, it had been in pristine condition. As shining white as the diamond earrings she wore. Now, as she walked through the doors of Ad Gustum, there wasn’t a single pin-prick of fabric not permanently stained red with blood. With a heaving sigh, Tanith fell back into the first chair she saw in the grand entrance way, not giving a flying fuck who saw. She kicked the shoes off and across the hall for good measure. They were now a deep crimson as well. She dropped her bag on the floor beside her, closed her eyes, and tilted her head to the ceiling.
“Long day?” the sound of her familiar’s voice was
not the comfort it was to most. It only made Tanith scowl.
“I am in no mood,” she warned the overgrown cat. “Go find yourself a ball of yarn and get out of my hair.” She needed a long, hot bath. And a massage. And a good, stiff drink. She did not need the cat - or anybody else - yapping at her.