Everyone was a plaything to Jeanette, Therese saw them all as pawns, but Jeanette saw everything as a game itself, pieces to play with, move around, mess around, have some fun. That was the point wasn't it? She wasn't as cold and calculating in her games, it was about fun and the thrill, chasing and winning. Was she a sociopath? Possibly. But it was hard to tell what kind of insanity she suffered from when her entire being was infected with a bloodline of unhinged vampirism. The joys of a Malkavian psyche.
"I'm cold blooded," so cold that he skin occasionally appeared blue. That was what happened when she didn't feed for a while, no warm blood in her system at all, nothing but the cool unmoving fluids in her own body. She often wondered how that worked. If her heart didn't beat, why didn't she suffer from lividity setting? But then something else would catch her attention and the thought was shelved. Much like now. "You're precious, but no." What was the point of smelling like someone she couldn't eat?
Her eyebrow rose steadily at her explanation on just what he did. FBI, so interesting. Criminals, how juicy. "Ooooh, that sounds exciting." Because hello murder. Jeanette did so miss those days, society moved forward, and with it so too did she and Therese, which meant no more spree killings, instead luring in prey to feed on repeatedly rather than leaving an array of bodies in very fascinating and perplexing ways.
"I run a nightclub. With my sister, we run it together anyway." Although Therese liked to take the credit. "We kind of manage all of Santa Monica really. We're philanthropists." And they owned about half the beachside city at least. It tended to happen when you lived over a hundred years and had a keenly business minded sister. Therese made sure they'd be taken care of. Usually because they killed the competition and intended on taking over as Baron's, but that was neither here nor there.