[H3]Michelle Darrens[/h3]
[b]Sunset Lounge[/b]

What. The. Hell. First she was getting half of the Ventrue's life story, then she was getting half-ignored, half-insulted by some jackass in a suit that probably cost more than most people's cars. After playing blood bank for some Don Juan motherfucker! It was turning out to be a hell of a night, but at least she wasn't bored. And, after that little speech, she was even a little interested in the "JEWGIRL" who was so willing to die for some other leech in a nice dress. She seemed sort of sweet in that earnest, awkward, don't-look-at-me-outside-business-hours sort of way, but as she listed off the dozen and a half things that could be done to earn Michelle's good will back the woman couldn't help but smile, and cup her hand under her chin.

She didn't know the first thing about Michelle.

With her other hand she poured herself another three or four fingers from the bottle the 'tender had dropped off--he'd even brought it up a bit too, thanks probably to the little lawyer's presence, and the reposado she tasted was an awful sight better than the well she'd purchased to begin with. If Rachel thought Michelle would be intimidated by the mention of Eva's new potential Chernobyl she had another thing coming, but frankly Michelle didn't like pissing contests. She was [i]way[/i] more entertained by the idea of throwing the little thing back out from her land of organization and bitchy politics.

"Your phone." She said lazily, setting her glass down and reversing the hand to lie it flat out for the brunette.