“Yes, okay,” said Milo, putting his hands together pensively. He had to remember not to overstep his boundaries. He had been relatively surprised with the amount of authority he was allowed to exercise for being so new, but he knew that was non pareil to Lucina’s. So in response to being scolded by Vicente, Milo coughed awkwardly and said, “Yes, yes. Apologies. I will stop with the meddling with Lucina.” Milo thought about the younger Italian Nightkin briefly. He liked to think they had a repertoire of sorts going. He had known her since the beginning of his undeath, and was one of the only vampires young enough for him to keep up an engaging conversation with.<br/><br/>The Polish vampire was on a little bit of a tirade, trying to feasibly explain why a vampire president would be entirely possible. “I mean, there was the Ted Cruz man. He had a thirst for blood and kind of got the… second place of the Republicans? I do not know how this government works. If he could do it, so could anyone who was more, uh, socially adept— and also a vampir—“ Milo was cut off as Vicente’s hand hit his chest. He mimicked the Nightkin leader, nostrils flaring, trying to get a scent for what was ahead. He couldn’t quite tell what exactly was coming, he could smell the familiar scent of a Nightkin, which he didn’t think was that important, and other things he couldn’t identify.<br/><br/>Milo broke out into a smile and placed a hand protectively on the sheathe of his dagger. He had been itching to fight for a while. In fact, the plane ride had made him stiff and he could really use a way to limber up the old joints, and nothing was quite better than the heat of a melee. He shadowed Vicente, his steps quick and eager.<br/><br/>—<br/><br/>Eli nodded when Mariko spoke. He had heard about the archeological study while slipping into some public places with televisions. Almost every diner on the east coast so far had the channel tuned to something about the dig. Advantageous to have the thing from the archeological dig? That didn’t sound very good, or very safe. He was just about to ask whether both Catarina and Vicente were here in the flesh, when Drake cut Mariko off.<br/><br/>He turned his attention to the redheaded vampire. As per usual, he was packing quite a lot of a fire power under his jacket. He watched Drake disassemble his guns and shifted slightly away from him when the younger Gifted decided to plop down on the couch as well.<br/><br/>“Raziel,” Eli repeated, looking a bit wide-eyed. While his obvious clan knowledge and lore wasn’t too great, he knew enough to somewhat understand what Mariko was saying. When she began talking about some person being shredded, he raised an eyebrow quizzically. Personally, he didn’t care much for humans— except for food, of course. He didn’t quite understand what the big deal was if one human died when someone expected more than a one course dinner. Apparently this was a cause for concern in clans, because Drake started cursing again.<br/><br/>Eli brushed off Drake’s insult with an indifferent shrug and a shitty smile. “Thanks, I missed you too.” He shot Drake a look that was as equally as toxic as the one he’d been sent.<br/><br/>“Huh? Oh,” mumbled Eli when Mariko called his name. “I never come to just ‘hang out’ and ‘relax’, Riko,” he said as he cracked his back and put his feet up on the ottoman. He thought about his next words carefully. “I’m here. I can help. I can help sometimes,” he muttered, not sure if he was actually committed. “Y’know, like old times, yeah?”