#and then getting confused when Cammy prince girl seems -- reasonable

[victorluvsalice]

Merry Christmas SlyCooperandCarlosFox!

@slycooperandcarlosfox I remember your brief asking for a sequel to your birthday fic, with Ventrue!Phillianne going to the Last Round to meet with the Anarchs. Poor woman got a bit more than she bargained for with Damsel, though. . .hope you like!

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“I cannot believe you expected to just fuckin’ waltz right in here without gettin’ your fuckin’ face torn off, you fuckin’ Cammy!”

“I did not waltz! I came in perfectly normally because I am trying to see what the hell the political situation is here in Los Angeles!” Phillianne Tropy yelled back, one hand held protectively over her eye. “You’re the one who immediately tried to throw a punch at me!”

“Because you’re some fucking shit-faced Camarilla prince who just walked into our bar!” Damsel shot a look at Jack, in his usual corner, but he just crossed his arms with a smirk. “Oh yeah, sure, fuckin’ hilarious that one of them thinks she’s such hot shit she can just wander straight into Anarch territory like it don’t even exist!”

“I was under the impression there was a truce!” Phillianne shouted, keeping her back to the door in case she needed to duck out and make a quick exit – which was looking more and more likely, frankly. The fiery redhead in the beret and Che Guevara shirt wasn’t the only one glaring at her like she was rancid blood on the pavement. “Because of the whole Kuei-Jin thing?”

“Oh, yeah, totally,” Damsel snarled, sarcasm flavoring every word. “Ivory Tower lets most of us die to those foreign soul-sucking bastards, then sweeps in to ‘clean up the mess.’ And then acts like that gives ‘em any fucking right to our city! This is an Anarch Free State! We ain’t bowing to any fuckin’ prince!”

“I’m not asking you to! I’m here because–” Phillianne stopped briefly, huffing. “You know Alice, right? Alice Liddell?”

Damsel scoffed. “Her? Yeah, we know her. Bitch might make a decent Anarch if she could stop licking LaCroix’s boots.���

“. . .that is not the way she tells it.” Phillianne shook her head. “Anyway, I noticed she was looking stressed, so I told her to take the night off, I’d take care of anything with LaCroix or anybody else. Which is why I’m here – I’m making sure you guys didn’t have anything that she was supposed to do tonight! I mean, she mentioned doing favors for you before – something about plaguebearers?”

Damsel paused. Glanced at Jack again, who seemed similarly confused, then at her compatriots, still tensed and ready for violence. “Uh. . .yeah,” she said cautiously. “Helped us smash up this fuckin’ stupid death cult. . .the hell you mean, you told her to ‘take the night off?’”

“Exactly that! I know she’s been running all over this city doing every odd job for every other Kindred for – frankly, what seems like not great compensation,” Phillianne said, wrinkling her nose. “I thought she deserved some time to herself! I’m not so high-and-mighty that I can’t go down into the streets and figure out who needs help on my own.” She straightened her suit jacket. “And, frankly, I thought she needed a break from LaCroix too. That asshole has his head so far up his own ass it’s a wonder he can talk. Jerks like him give Ventrues a bad name.”

The other Anarchs were untensing now, sharing baffled looks like the one she’d just had with Jack. “. . .you’re sure you’re Camarilla?” Damsel blurted, unsure of what else to say.

Phillianne managed a smile. “We’re not all like him, trust me. I run a much different sort of city back home.” She held up her hands. “Look, if there’s no errands, all I want is a quick chat with whoever you’d call your leader. Just so I know what I’m looking at, factions-wise.”

“Hah – good luck with that,” Damsel growled, folding her arms. “LaCroix’s got a blood hunt on him.”

“. . .how about you tell me what’s going on so I don’t immediately go punch out my fellow prince.”