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Gerard nods, and you're sure he'd already anticipated your request. "Very good, ma'am. It shouldn't be more than a night, maybe two, for me to get you something useful."

"Thank you, Gerard."

He returns to his desk and sweeps a handful of papers into a dark leather briefcase. "I should be about my business so you can get to yours." He almost cracks a smile at your unconscious grimace. "Best of luck with the Sheriff."

Next

The first thing that strikes anyone upon meeting Sheriff Qui for the first time is that he's a very tall man. If one were prone to exaggeration, they could say that his head all but scraped the ceiling, and in Qui's case the impression might be accurate, if not the actual truth of the matter. His face has a stately, angular look to it, neither unpleasant to the eye nor what some would call conventionally attractive. In fact, if he didn't possess both his height and commanding presence, he would likely fade into the background of any room he occupied. You have it on good authority that his long, dark hair hides a weeping red scar from his Embrace, wrapping sinuously beneath his right ear and down his neck. A vain streak unusual for a Nosferatu encourages him to keep it hidden. Two sharply dressed attachés stand behind him by the entryway.

Those Kindred first meeting the Sheriff might be forgiven for their disbelief regarding Qui's clan, considering his distinct lack of many typical disfigurements. In fact, Ottawa's rumor mill is rife with speculation—some say he turned in a favor owed by an ancient fleshcrafter, while others suggest he benefits from powerful Blood Sorcery. The truth is known only to a select few, and you don't number among them.

"I appreciate you taking the time to see me," Qui says, slender fingers twitching at his side unconsciously. You decline to mention that you had little choice in the matter. "I intended to seek council from your sire tonight," he says, his eyes flickering to Gerard, then back to you. "But Corliss's servants have been giving my messengers the run-around since I instructed them to set up the meeting. I understand she's a busy woman, but Arundel would never have—" His eyes flick to Gerard again. "I'm sorry, but could you send the help away? This conversation isn't for mortal ears."