[Sodium_noir] Titus and phone calls

[Alyson Young]

Rachel, Titus
Sabbat Gangrel, Lasombra
At the Suzy Wong

> Twelve minutes and thirty seconds later, Titus showed up, the room's
 > conversation pausing a moment as he stepped in.
> To be fair, Titus' genetic make up was 2000 years out of date: nearly
 > six and a half feet tall, topping the scales at something approaching
 > two hundred and fifty pounds... you could have put him in leather,
 > given him a broadsword and left him happily hacking at the gates of
 > Rome.  As it was, the long black leather coat did suit him, though
 > the Hawian shirt was really something of a fashion travesty.
> 
> He sat next to Rachel, leavering his braced leg into a comfortable
 > position; lit up, offered her a cigarette.
> 
> Straight to business. ' At some point we need to go through Akrill's
 > books, work out exactly what is now ours and how we can use the
 > resources.  Standing still and gloating ain't good business sense.
 > We need to dig in, use what we've got and then move on to a different
 > foe.  Just don't know which foe yet.  But I'm thinking those Russian
 > fucks.'

Something deep and basic in Rachel responds instinctively to Titus' raw 
power... the same sort of impulse that, in his own time, inspired camp 
followers.  When certain modern parts of her brain protest that taking 
control of, well, *everything* is a flawed and ludicrous concept, it is 
these deep and basic things that keep her from saying anything. 
Instead, she accepts the offered cigarette - licking a stray drip of 
Bloody Mary off her finger, and then continuing to lick her hand in a 
distracted sort of way between drags on her cigarette.

"In two more days the enforcer tong will be doing whatever I tell them 
to do.  That should keep Chinatown under our thumb if they start to 
second-guess themselves.  Probably time to scout the next target, then. 
  I mean, come on, can the Russians have something worse than Akrill?"