After their conversation Saturday night through texts, Cian hadn't heard a single peep out of Tristian. Part of him had been a little glad for it, in truth. The way things had come off between them, there was some anger on both sides. Maybe more his own than the younger Malkavian's? His memory, and lack there of, wasn't something he liked to bring up lightly. Especially through assumptions without proof. Their clan was so good at reading between lines, weren't they? Even if it wasn't always the right answer they got. He'd gone home to Connie and Chiyu instead of facing down those emotions.
He hadn't, still, looked at the web to see if he had missed something while he'd been out or asleep. He was almost afraid of what he would find. If there were anything of importance, he'd find it out of Tristian's own mouth. Even so, it was going to be hard to keep things straight. To say it was a relief to speak to someone who wasn't his own clan about things was an understatement. It helped that Sthelada was almost soothing in the way she spoke to him when he'd woken up.
Walking up to the third floor, Cian knocked a few times on Tristian's door but didn't hear anything inside. Had he gone to work? Possibly, but that didn't explain the sudden motion he heard inside. Did Tris know it was him? Walking back out of the building, the Elder circled to the back and jumped up onto the fire escape after making sure no one else was in the alley. It was an easy way, after that, to find the younger man's window and even easier to open the window and push past thick black out curtains. After that?
The smell of old, dried blood hit his nose, sharp and making him hiss. "Tristian." His voice something of his normal tone, but had an added ice to it.