<strong>John</strong><br/><br/>The Gangrel chuckled at her self-assurance.  "So, you know about the FBI guys in the parked van three blocks up the street?" he asked innocently, "The ones with the directional mics and advanced listening gear?"<br/><br/>He was completely making them up, although there had been a van back there when he'd passed a few minutes ago.  The mild amusement kept him from responding to her belief that she was respected by the city's undead.  Somehow, from the little he remembered, he doubted there was much respect among her kind, especially for collaborators.  Then again, he'd run with Brujah, borderline Anarch Malkies, and other sorts.  Not to mention having little respect for the Cammies.  A necessary evil at best.  A convenient shield against the much more numerous mortals at best.  Not to mention the fact that the other alternatives were either utterly disorganized or bloodthirsty psychos.  In his opinion.<br/><br/>As she left, John simply said, "Enjoy yourself."  Neutral.  Could be taken positively, if she so desired, or not.  The best politics were conducted that way.  Kept people unsure of where exactly they fell in the scheme of things.  Or, rather, it let them decide where they thought they fell, based on hopes and desires instead of reality.