Ezekiel Kristoff was immersed in some light reading before starting his night off. An avid reader in life as well as undeath, it had become routine now with how valuable knowledge was, especially for a Tremere, what with many of the secrets of Thaumaturgy locked away in Grimoires of past Magi who were more experienced (or more foolish in some cases) in the Art of Arts.

This case was far less esoteric though, he was reading one of the latest "urban fantasy" novels that was making the rounds through the young kine. Why waste his time on trivial shit like this when he could be reading something far more stimulating? Mostly out of curiosity, he was always interested in finding out what the "popular" interpretations of his kind and fellow "supernaturals" were in circulation at various times. Plus, there was some practical applications, he was understanding how the kine thought on some subliminal level, something which many Kindred near his age showed a disdain for and he couldn't understand why. Knowledge is power, especially for a Magus and Kindred both, and in these Modern Nights understanding how to control Kine in less overt ways was key to maintaining their society . . . even though understanding young Kine today was admittedly like trying to understand quantum mechanics at times for the centuries old Vampire.

Not that Zeke, or Malakai as he now called himself publicly, had even had much interaction with his fellow Kindred as of late. He had arrived as a newcomer to California and LA several months ago incognito. Or, as incognito as a Kindred could be. He had taken up a new name, hadn't sought out any locals yet (as far as he knew, there was no official "Prince" of LA anymore), and had mostly seen to getting himself established in as low-key a manner as possible.

So, he'd set up a Kine Cult (Totally original for a Tremere, right? But he stuck with what he knew, he certainly wasn't going to try and compete in business he wasn't familiar with.), The Followers of Nodens, bought a couple properties, and set about surrounding himself with a few idolizing and capable servants. One of which knocked on the door to his study promptly. He didn't turn from his seat in reading.

"Come in."

The door noisily opened, it was Charlie, his "right hand" Ghoul. He had recognized the young man's scent after opening the door (though one could argue you wouldn't even need to be a Vampire to recognize this punk by his scent at times).

"Mal, Haines has still been pestering the guys at the shop as to how to become a member. Almost pathetic, they're having more and more trouble getting rid of him."

Zeke smirked slightly at bygone memories the scene reminded him of and chuckled softly.

"Perhaps it shall soon be time for young Gideon to have the opportunity of being inducted into our family, if for no other reason than to save us any more hassle . . . but then one could argue simply making the man disappear in more simpler ways could be just as effective."

Charlie walked up to stand behind Zeke's chair.

"You want me to do that for you? You know I would, or Juli, or shit, anyone whose one of us. Nothing we haven't done before even before you found us."

Zeke waved a hand dismissively and closed his book, slipping a bookmark in it and laying it aside on his desk (piled high with books read and unread). 

"No, I was merely musing aloud. Gideon can wait until later, right now, I think its time I make my first appearance on the night life of this fair city, and since Juli's out, you'll be my escort . . . or, what exactly is the correct phrase nowadays?"

"Wingman? Bro? Take your pick of any of the shitty phrases."

Zeke sighed and stood up, his red and black embroidered robes straightening out as he stood.

"Who cares? You get the idea. Get suited up, I'll get myself a drink, throw on something fitting, and we'll hit the road."

Charlie nodded and walked out taking a left down the hall, Zeke following after him and closed the door, taking a right out of his study and into the living room. The living room of Zeke's house looked like a tornado had hit it. Clothes were everywhere (none of them his), furniture was moved all haphazardly to accommodate for sleeping bags or makeshift beds, there was leftovers or trash laying around everywhere, and the stereo was on playing some kind of music Zeke had no taste for, but knew the four young adults who splayed out in various configurations around the room were into it. 

This was Zeke's Cult when it wasn't actually doing Cult business. He made them stay over at his house every night and paid for their expenses to do whatever the hell they wanted within the house. In exchange, they were effectively his security guards and disguise for the house. For one thing, they were all his Ghouls, so he knew they wouldn't go poking around where he didn't want them (namely his basement), and they could handle any Kine problems with ease. Plus, they were his herd, and an easy source of blood for him.

Calmly approaching the one nearest to him, a young woman who was busy vaping (Zeke abhorred actual smoking in his herd), and with routine ease and mutual understanding she stood up and twisted her neck slightly for his ease. Carefully supporting her in his arms, he barred his fangs and starting drinking. He stopped after half a minute, the moment he felt her heartbeat starting to waver just slightly. He slowly laid her down as she reacted dazed, but retaining consciousness. He had hardly felt the stir of The Beast within him, but then such was the fortune fact of abiding by the Camarilla's traditions and practices, they offered serenity and secrecy to Cainite existence, if at the cost of some freedoms. The blood itself wasn't prime quality, but it was definitely sweet and invigorating. 

Zeke rolled his shoulders, feeling the fresh power within him. As he silently walked out to the closet by his front door. Opening it, he switched his robes out for a leather jacket of similar length, and checked his face in small mirror, wiping up a small trickle of blood left behind by his feeding. Satisfied, he scratched his shaven head and walked out the door. Charlie had already slipped by (must have been while he was feeding) and started the car, an older model black Oldsmobile. Charlie had decked himself out in similar black leather to his Master, and pulling the thundering car out of the driveway, they headed into downtown LA for Zeke's first real night out in months.