The room was a cacophony of over indulgence; overpriced crystal twinkled from the lighting, silk caressed the darkened windows that blocked out the uninitiated and gold licked at the same silverware as the silver tongued occupants. Her three companions were taking turns verbally coaxing orgasms out of one another with practiced tact of blue blood breeding. They had completed the merger only hours ago and her wealth had increased once again. She was leaning back, flawlessly manicured nails clicking at the long stemmed wine glass gently as she bathed in the progeny of her capitalistic heights. But her mind was away from these mortal follies, still ruminating over the wolf attack on their sheriff. Her company was blissfully ignorant of these events and failed to notice anything strange about their unusually passive ‘leader’; though if they had noticed they were probably counting this as pleasure and would not have questioned it. Johnathan Milbanks the Third, an abhorrently greedy individual that had gained all the skills to back his chosen endeavors was intoxicated and laughing sharply enough that she turned her head to avoid the direct assault. Her eyes took this moment to roam across the room. This establishment had always been one of her favorites. They lacked the nouveau riche and ostentatious celebrity classes that clawed at beauty only to destroy it. The establishment hand selected clientele to the degree that often the great hall seemed almost barren. They would sooner turn someone away than break the basic merits of this place, for all that entered were guaranteed to have two commonalities; they were wealthy and enjoyed their privacy. Her head canted just slightly as she caught the beckoning gaze of one of her Brujah bodyguards. He received a slight nod and then she turned her attention back to the table. 
 
She placed her glass on the table and turned on the charm, literally. Presence was no longer something she worked at, but rather a natural and fluid action, such as breathing is for the kine. “I apologize my friends, but I must depart on some personal business.” Adoration glimmered in their souls as she stood and started heading towards the door. There was a flicker of rejection from Milbanks, but his yearning was not enough to raise a question to Eriko.
 
As she stepped into the chill night air Peter and Francis moved to her elbows. It had been Peter who had come inside to coax her out so it was he whom she addressed while placing a cigarette betwixt her lips. “So, what is this all about?” Francis lit her cigarette with a steel zippo and she inhaled, her face lacking any of the previous faux joy as the smoke trickled about.
 
“You’ll want to sit down for this.” He really meant they didn’t need to be talking about this on the street. He motioned towards her black overly tinted limo and her mind, always skittering about, started to imagine the probable to impossible, weeding through a hundred thoughts as Francis opened the door and her lithe form slipped in, Francis and Peter once again entering to be at either side of her. A third Brujah named Jay, smaller yet smarter than the other two, was occupying the driver’s seat.
 
Across the back of the limo sat a twitchy ghoul. She had never been a fan of the ghouls; most likely stemming from her inability to respect them on any level. They were necessary, she understood, but to have one sitting across from her tickled something vicious inside of her so that her lips slipped into a scowl. “Speak.” She glanced down at her skirt, adjusting and picking at the fitted hem in favor of continuing eye contact. She feared she may ‘accidently’ let something evil slip into his mind. Once he finished stating his piece they pulled over and discarded the man on the side of a street without so much as a thank you. But do you thank the man that tells you your Prince is dead? He should be thankful none in the limo viewed him relevant enough for accountability.
 
The limo held pause on that corner for a moment while two fingers pressed and rubbed her temples. She knew the action did nothing for a being that lacked a pulse, but it helped her to think. It was only a matter of seconds before orders began to flow from her in an almost subconscious wave. She had commanded pirates, she had commanded respect, but to command the Camarilla of Boston until a replacement was found, in a time of war no less, this would require her to be on the top of her game and so each order became a little more infused with dominance as she tried to place her bearings. She removed a cigarette which was again lit by Francis who moved to allow her access to the slightly cracked window.
 
“Jay, make Inigo aware we will be slightly late. Head towards the Prince’s house. I also want an extra man on Bishop. Francis, I need some favors called in. I want a line to New Orleans Camarilla opened, specifically one of the LeDeaux clan if possible. They appreciate discretion. We don’t need to deal with encroaching or pillaging Camarilla on top of our current issues, so let us attempt to keep this in house and quiet beyond the requests I make, understood? Send your progeny to New York to locate Laurna Crest, she is one of their Primogen. Fill her in on the situation. We will need to notify Elders but I will speak to Bishop in these regards. He should be meeting us. Peter, be sure that the inner circle and those with information will be at this meeting. I want the Primogen to meet afterwards. I also specifically require the help of Tosh so be sure he is in attendance. Get the word out that any unaligned kindred who wish to remain neutral should check in or vacate Boston for the time being.” At this declaration she looked to Peter and raised a brow, making sure her next words were pointed. “This is not a joke. This is not a drill. Unaligned still traipsing around the city in the next week will be treated as Sabbat unless their true intentions are known.”

The limo pulled over a few blocks from the Prince’s house. There was no reason to get any closer and draw attention to themselves, or to the Prince’s house. Eriko’s form moved from the back of the limo into the shadows quickly and soon she and Francis were jumping the large wall that surrounded his home. Peter had made his way to the back while Jay watched from the Limo, keeping her running. They moved quickly, silently, though the only other life they could sense came from the sounds of the city a few miles off. Once Eriko was comfortable with the fact they were alone she stepped into the house. She stopped walking about once she located the Prince. She stood there, shifting her weight to her right leg and examining the work. After a couple of minutes she walked about the scene, taking it all in. There was a hint of something in that scowl. One artist of death to another. Yes, that curl that laced amongst the scowl seemed to be a bit of respect. Surely there was no emotion for the dead Prince. She wasn’t much for sentiment. “Hmph. Ok. We should go now.” That thin digit rolled in the air the symbol for wrap it up and take off.

Not 20 minutes later they were pulling up to the theater. The exiting of the limo was highly reminiscent of their last stop. Peter exited and headed to the back of the theater while Eriko and Francis headed for the front. She had some strong opinions to share and there was much to do. The haste was apparent in the nippy sharp clicks of heels that touched the pavement. Francis opened the door for the small ferocious little thing, his large form fully capable of covering her back and possibly enveloping her tiny form in a bear hug if necessary. It was not something he had tested, and randomly as he stepped through that door he was counting on one hand the amount of time he had actually touched the Ventrue whom’s wake he followed upon.