It wasn't a handshake as much as a squeeze, careful not to catch the youngblood's soft, flat fingertips on his well-maintained talons. Politeness was important, after all, but they weren't Ventrue.
"It's such a pleasure to meet you," he purred in response. Rhys? Rhys Green? Had he literally used the name he'd been given in his former life?! Surely no self-respecting Kindred would choose that for themselves. Perhaps that was why this poor childe had been left in the streets? It was a legitimate reason.
Rhys Green. What was the world coming to?
Even worse was that the Rhys didn't seem to want to look at him, not exactly. Which was ludicrous of course, because if Tristian was made for anything it was to be looked at. Did this fledgling really think he put so much effort into his aesthetic to have someone look past him? He tilted his head to the side, trying to force the younger Kindred to meet his gaze. He frowned a little at the vague directions; so not an actual address?
"You're looking for someone but you don't have the exact street? Building name? Apartment number?" The Malkavian quirked an immaculate brow and brushed his fingers down the other Kindred's cheek. "This sounds like terribly shady business for a baby Tremere like yourself." He flashed fangs and sighed as he was truly doing this poor little lamb an enormous favour. "Unfortunately I don't know the Upper East Side as well as other little jaunts in Manhattan, but I suppose it can't be too hard to find, if that's still where you'd like to go?"