I'm sorry for the way I am Who: Tucker Belmont and Blair Adler What: Misery When: Late Wednesday night Where: Belmont Manor, Blair's room
This was plaguing ridiculous. Tucker had woken earlier than usual that morning because of the cold, and despite barking a near-endless stream of increasingly sharply-worded orders at people for hours, still no power had been returned to the house. There had been a brief, bright spot of hope early in the afternoon when some lights and heat flickered on in the plaguing downstairs part of the house, but even that was relatively short-lived, and as the night drew close around the house, wind whipping at the windows, Tucker's already sour mood grew far sourer.
Though his bed practically groaned with the weight of extra blankets on it, he tossed and turned for hours, dissatisfied and uncomfortable. He shifted into his bat form for a while, trying to warm up by flying in dizzying patterns around his room, but even the warmth of his own wings couldn't calm him, and before long, he found himself back in his human form, bedecked in several layers of clothing, and trailing a thick, wool blanket draped over his shoulders, shuffling toward his cousin's room.
"Mild winter, they said." he spat after he'd knocked and been let in. "Bunch of smug, plaguing pricks." He swung the door shut with irritated force behind him, moving into her space with the ease of a man who was used to owning everything he surveyed. "And the Rosiers have power," he sneered. "Is nothing just?"