Bring me a drink

[Storyteller]

Heh...stop and wonder. Anything else?

[Treyvon Johnson]

Wow, I'm more worn out then I thought. Still, there's plenty of snooping to do. I pull out a random untitled book and thumb through it.

OOC: In my defense, I took a nap right after that post.

[Storyteller]

Haha, no worries, i'd guessed you'd had to/had gone off somewhere, it just threw me a little with what to reply! ;D

This one seems a little odd. From what you skim, it seems to be a 'thesis' on the ethics of ghouls, and the viniculum. Interesting stuff, you're sure, but a little scholarly.

If possible, i want to try and push things on a bit, as Smoothie, and LadyCin (if she still exists) are both ready to move on to the meeting. If you want to poke around some more, just list a few things to do, and i'll resolve it in one big post, and we can always 'anachronise'. Cheers

[Treyvon Johnson]

I put the book away and pull out a couple more books to look at. Then I also decide to thumb through the book on Thaumaturgical creatures, looking for anything that would be in the New Orleans area. Once my curiousity's been satisfied, I try to find the space Michael normally uses for sleeping and I sit down and pray.

[Storyteller]

Skimming through a few books yields nothing of great interest or importance.

The book on Thaumaturgical creatures seems to be more a work of fiction, given how fantastical some of them sound, despite all you know now. Still, you never know, and it might come in useful, so you try and pick up on a few things.

You can't locate any sleeping area, and the only place that remains is the locked door off the upper level.

[Treyvon Johnson]

I head up to the upper room, getting the key ready. This is probably where he rests for the day.

[Storyteller]

You try a few of the keys in the door, but none of them seem to work. It's a standard 'bolt' lock, with a turn-key action, rather than 'auto-locking'.

[Treyvon Johnson]

Screw it. I'll get there later. I'm already getting tired. I check my phone to see what time it is.

[Storyteller]

Your phone reads 1:34.

[Treyvon Johnson]

I have time. So I try to find the way to enter this last room.
What can I say? I'm nosy.

[Storyteller]

Short of kicking down the door, which doesn't really seem an option, the only way through seems to be picking it - there doesn't seem to be a key or anything lying around.

Lacking any proper tools, it's a near impossible task, and, after ten minutes of trying, you still haven't got anywhere.

Be sure to post on the 'current' thread on the main board as well

[Treyvon Johnson]

With nothing else to do I head back to the kitchen, locking the door to the library, and find a nice corner. I sit down and begin to pray as I do every morning.

Trey'll pray/meditate until he falls asleep or Mike gets back, whichever comes first.

[Storyteller]

You spend a while in peaceful contemplation, sitting in the kitchen.

Eventually, after about an hour or so, you hear the front door open, and go out to greet Mike. He looks slightly startled, seeing you come out of the kitchen, but immediately grins, and greets you.

"S'up. Everything good?"

[Treyvon Johnson]

I smile back.

"I'm good. Just finished enjoying my me time. Whatabout you? Everything breezy?"

[Storyteller]

He chuckles, and looks up to one side.

"You could say that. Hah. If only; it's never easy. But we've seen worse."

He looks at his watch.

"You'd best be heading off soon, or you can crash here if you want."