The Prince of New York didn't look up as her pet detective left the room, she stared at her books and scrolls intentively, almost like she hoped her stare would scare the books into revealing the solution to her problems.<br/>"She's a tasty little thing, the new one, isn't she?" The Prince closed the book she was reading with a sigh, looking at the direction of the voice. "The mere sight of her made me a little peckish."<br/>From one of the shadows stepped a man all dressed in black. But not ordinary clothes, the uniform he was wearing would make most people angry, to say the least. He was wearing the black uniform of the SS, complete with a black leather coat that screamed Gestapo, and a red arm band with the swastika inside of a white circle. When he removed the uniform cap you could see that his hair was platinum blonde and combed backwards, and his eyes was ice blue. He was of average height and rather thin, with accentuated cheek bones, but looked like he could handle himself well enough. He was actually very atractive, in an unsettling sort of way.<br/>"There you are, Dog," the Prince said, the irritated tone in her voice quite obvious. "I summoned you last night."<br/>The man gave her a not very deep bow, obviously meant to show deference.<br/>"I am sorry, my Prince, but I was otherwise engaged, doing your bidding most vigorously. And I thought the prefered term was Hound...not Dog."<br/>The Prince let his comment slide. He was taking liberties with her that none other of her subjects would dare, but she couldn't deny his usefullness. A Prince had many servants at their disposal, the Hound being one of the traditional names for one of them. The Hound's purpose was, to be blunt, to be the professional torpedo and leg-breaker of the Prince. If the Prince wanted a crime against the Vampire traditions to be resolved with finese and professionalism, she called her Sheriff. If she wanted some heads cracked open, she called the Hound. The Prince of New York wasn't entirely sure were here Sheriff's loyalties lay these days, so she had come to rely more on her Hound than was customary. And he was very good, he and his crew had made hurting people into an artform.<br/>"I tire of this infernal weather," she said. "It's not natural, and no one can tell me it's origin. The Vizier's head is filled with fairy tales, I want you to find the true explenation. I don't care who you have to hurt or kill to find me the answer, just be subtle about it." The Hound nodded, a gleam in his eyes. He was set loose on the unexpecting New York, a rare opportunity indeed!<br/>"Oh, and make sure our detective gets home alright, will you? I've invested to much time in her to lose her to some street thugh. Don't you dare turn her into a midnight snack though, she is mine."<br/>The Hound bowed again. "I will do as my Prince asks, though I confess your words weigh heavy on my heart. She looks good enough to eat." The Prince turned to look at him again.<br/>"Perhaps...perhaps I'll let you have her when I tire of her. Maybe I'll get her to work down at the casino. Or maybe the Dungeon. But untill that time, you keep her safe from everything, and that includes you and your pack of beasts." The Hound licked his lips at the thought of what could be his if he played his cards right.<br/>"Understood. I'll follow her before she gets to far, shall I?" Not waiting for a reply, he was suddenly gone, once again leaving the Prince alone with her thoughts.<br/><br/>Gina woke from a heavy sleep to the sound of her telephone ringing angrily.