<b><i>Sebastian Richter, Tremere</i></b><br/><br/>With his brief yet taxing conversation having come to its natural conclusion, Richter showed little hesitation once the Seneshal announced the true beginning of the Elysium. His inner equilibrium regained, he offered a brief nod towards Art as a way of showing his respect, then briskly made his way towards the small stage, wondering what sort of opening act he would have to suffer through this time.<br/><br/>Of course he applauded when the time came, the slow methodical clap of a man with dignity -- the European aristocrat he aspired to be. Though he had no fondness for such displays, the individuals gathered upon the stage were all impressive in their own right, even if he had to quietly admit that the Prince outshone them all with his self-assured charisma and mannerisms. He brushed through his graying hair once, as the introductions began, then proceeded to watch and listen with keen interest, preparing his mental checklist with intention of assessing every single potential use or weakness to be found.<br/><br/>The first, the Caitiff, was an odd one. Her voice was certainly her best feature, its lull pleasant in his ears, but with distaste he quickly found her awfully presumptuous. 'Cannot be faulted'? He almost made a slight gag of irritation, but managed to stop himself in time. The moderate distaste he always projected was one thing, to audibly laud such feelings during Elysium quite another. Not to mention that those 'modest riches' she spoke of made for a good reason to approach her afterwards -- and the Prince didn't exactly look displeased with her. Criticizing this Altagracia Santiago now would be the same as to criticize Vitel's judgement of her - not a very healthy thing to do. Personally, he'd have at least made her recite and explain those traditions she claimed to honor so closely, but perhaps that had already been taken care of before the public outing.<br/><br/>Dietrich Anderson, like many Ventrue, proved foolish enough to announce the potency of his own Vitae to the entire room. One could only hope that there were no traitors leaking information to the Sabbat in attendance today. Though between all the scheming and back-stabbing in Kindred courts, Sebastian thought that optimistic at best. Still, the businessman sounded quite well-off; smuggling connections were a rather useful thing to dabble in. He'd have to speak to the Ventrue afterwards.<br/><br/>Ingrid. His fellow apprentice (though, with no small measure of smugness, he still maintained a higher rank within that particular station) forced the bitter Sebastian to suppress a groan. Why would she even consider asking the Prince such nonsense? Things that were common knowledge? Did she want to give the impression of lusting for Giovanni blood? That in itself wasn't bad, but it was also never a good thing to look<em>too</em>eager in seeking another kindred's destruction.  Between her arcane spiel and those odd questions, he briefly wondered what sort of impression she was going for - first mystery and competence, then a bumbling mistake? Maybe she'd done it on purpose, to make herself look grand-standing and thus be underestimated in some subtle way he couldn't quite follow?<br/><br/>Mulling over those thoughts quietly, he once again vowed to himself that he would not lose an inch of his own standing to her. Perhaps with some proper guidance she might prove a useful tool against the others. There were still more Circles for him to climb, even if he could already claim the title of High Apprentice.<br/><br/>Barir. He didn't reveal much, except that he had collected himself again in order to stand before the Prince. The Tremere regarded him with a look of cautious neutrality, not too keen on provoking him again by sheer happenstance. He'd likely look back on their encounter after the evening was over and convince himself of his own intellectual and moral superiority, but for now the Assamite had put a good scare into him.<br/><br/><em>Onto the others ...</em>