"AK's are right here," he gestured to the bag he'd stashed them in when they were coming down -- because he didn't need Bobby to see that shit and freak out, "But we'll handle that after..." he shrugged as if to point out that Parael's nose was probably a bigger concern than explaining firearms, particularly safe handling, to Sturm Und Drang.

Well, the Kalashnikov was ideal in one sense. It was designed to be taught quickly to Siberian peasants. He tried to disengage Parael's hands off him so he could go over to one of the footlockers in the place -- he seemed to have more storage here than things stored, and grabbed an outfit that was essentially a copy of the first. Tony knew how to wear a suit and tie and look stylish when he was doing it, but this place wasn't set up to support his not for profit operations, it was set up with the idea of survival in mind. So he had a lot of the sort of gym clothes that lycans wore when expecting trouble, including shoes, because changing would fuck up a pair of nice dress shoes in a heartbeat.

In any case, he pulled on the clothing and laid the AK's and the ammo on the table -- not much, but hey, it was there if they needed it. He waited for the healing of Parael's nose to commence before he put in his two cents.

"Taking the offensive? Shit, man, I don't know. Those goons we encountered were thralls, I could smell the v-blood on them. Nemsemet might be old fashioned, but he's got at least one of the vampire elders on his side, which maybe explains why he wiped out Caradoc's court left and right -- promotion opportunities. That's the only way I can figure on so many thralls showing up well armed and with a plan like that." He drummed his fingers on the table as he took a chair, once the AK's were laid out -- they weren't exactly dirty enough to bother cleaning, yet.

"Guess it depends on what you want to hit. Until we know how to kill Nemsemet, we're as bad off on odds as Augustus was. Of course, that boy was kinda dumb and entitled, but you know what I mean."