Location: NYC Compound, Wit's End - 2:58 P.M.
Mentions & Interactions: Anyone nearby.
Bartholomew let out a sigh as he slowly rotated his head, causing his vertebrae to pop as they were subtly readjusted. Leaning on his cane more heavily than he had been earlier, Bart did his best to shield himself from the sun's harsh rays as he made his way towards the only reputable bar in the immediate vicinity, Wit's End. Turning onto a narrow side street, Bartholomew paused momentarily and leaned against the wall of a nearby building as a man clad in blood red robes, a strange ornate mask, seemingly of Venetian make, and an ancient yet well kept suit of metal armor beneath it all.
The mysterious man folded his arms and nonchalantly leaned against the opposite wall, regarding Bartholomew with his slightly glowing, yet inhumanly cold amber eyes.
"You look like shit." The man says, his eyes narrowing slightly.
Bartholomew lets out a scoff. "Anyone would after spending several hours out in the hot sun trying to recruit two Deviants to the cause without making them suspicious of the motives behind your actions."
"So they didn't decide to join the resistance then?" The man says, tilting his head to the right slightly.
"Not exactly." He said, running a gloved hand through his hair. "The immortal, Jenny, said she'd think it over and left. I gave her instructions on how to contact me again should she wish to join my branch of the organization. As for the shapeshifter, Cameron, she joined Damon's branch of the D.R.M and has left my sphere of influence within the group."
"Eh, don't worry about it. Deviants like her will come around to our way of seeing things soon enough." The man says, pacing back and forth a bit. "Anyway, I just felt like checking in on you. See how the task I gave you was coming along." The man says, walking back into the shadowed portion of the street.
"Well I appreciate that mas-sir." Bartholomew says, bowing slightly.
"Think nothing of it Bartholomew. Anyway, do you need any healing before I go?" He asked, looking back at Bart from over his shoulder.
Bartholomew shakes his head, "No, I'm alright."
The man nods and steps into the shadows, disappearing from sight. Pushing himself off of the wall, Bartholomew continues on his way to the bar, his cane making small tapping noises that echoes off the surrounding buildings as he goes.