"If this 'huge fuckin' problem' is that Ra's Naser is in Noir with a velvet ticket, demanding that Effy's sweet, heart shaped be in his face...I already know all about your earth shattering woes." Samual bitched, less at Gin and more in general. Beads of sweat and on his brow and the back of his neck. He worked well under pressure, but this was too much. "Where the [i]fuck[/i] is Ephesian, Gin?" Samual hissed, dabbing his forehead with a flamboyant, silk hanky. A groan escaped him, he was not prepared to suck any dicks tonight. That was Ephesian and Casey's jobs.

The Necromancer sat in a red, velvet winged back chair, scotch in hand. He swirled the light amber liquid around its glass, watching it intently. Beautiful, exposed women danced around him, pining for his attention...yet he was displeased. He was not here for these average whores, he was there for Effy. She was a priceless piece of artwork, and he wanted her in his collection. He had the perfect spot for her, his bedroom. She would be even more lovely hanging over his bed. "Samual, where is Effy?" he growled.

Samual simply shrugged in reply to Ra's in fear that words may anger him more. He turned his back to him as he spoke to Gin, his voice barely above a whisper. "Gin, protect her. The Necromancer will stop at nothing." With that he ended the call.