A gaunt... man shambles into the Nexus. He's wearing what could best be described as Victorian evening dress, albeit dusty with a few clinging particles of earth in the seams. His body is thin and gaunt, his features exaggerated from what looks at first glance like malnutrition. Upon closer inspection, he seems healthy, or at least in no danger of
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"That is something I have been attempting to ascertain for many years."
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"Maybe you need someone with a fresh perspective to help? Two heads are better than one, and all."
((So, WOD?))
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He eyes her appraisingly. "Perhaps. What do you have to offer?"
((Nah, this is the Orlok from the Murnau's 1922 Nosferatu: Eine Symphonie des Grauens))
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"That depends," she answers with an almost impish smile, "on who's asking."
((Oooh, very cool.))
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Not that she's scared though. Just cautious. She hasn't the sense to be scared of things.
"Oh, I see. It's a pleasure to meet you, Graf." Her German isn't so good, so she switches back to English for her question. "From the Carpathians, I presume?"
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