Nikolai nods to Alena as he turns towards the door.  He turns back to Mikhail just before leaving.  "Call us when you find that new guy, or if anything else comes up.  We will be in contact with you when we sort this mess out."  That is all.  Without any further leave takings, he exits the bar much the way he came in:  with a layer of dread, ominous silence surrounding him, and the eyes of Mikhail's thugs watching every heavy footfall.

The resounding slap of the Brujah's hand across the womans rump earns Mikhail nothing but a slight arch of Alena's brow and a small smile that could only be taken as condescending. She doesn't need to say anything to express that Mikhail has just proven her immediate thoughts of him.

Mikhail had been so easy to aggravate. No surprise given the circumstances really. He was put in a corner. Whether he liked it or not she could become a tentative ally, one that could help pry him out of his sticky situation. Besides, its not as if the Elders have done her any favour by putting her with a woman hater. Russian men were sexist pigs though. This was nothing new, and she had dealt with plenty of them before. The only difference now was that they came with fangs and extraordinary tempers.

She'd find out how to push Mikhail's buttons. So far a three year old could figure them out. But she had plenty of time to get under his skin and work him out. Then she'd see how quickly his crass behaviour would change towards her.

No other word is exchanged from the female Russian, who walks with Nikolai out the door with only the quiet clip of her heel to her departure.

I stew in silent anger for maybe five minutes after Nikolai and Alena leave my bar. I imagine it would be worse if the woman decided to stay and make me miserable from the get-go. At least tonight I will be able to work without her getting in my way.

'Dmitri!'

I bellow, calling my one unjailed ghoul from his place at the bar. Hunting kindred is sensitive business and I wont be using the already shaken men. They have seen enough tonight.

'Come now, We go.'

I wave him out the back door. My usual car, the Old Lincoln is still out on the waterfront, or probably impounded by this point. I can only hope Martin had his vials of coke on him, rather than tossed in the glove box. Not that the car is in my name anyway. Tonight I will be driving, with Dmitri in the passenger seat. Without the Lincoln we will instead be taking the van. Its not nearly as comfortable or stylish, but hell, I could stake the wop and toss him in the back if I need to.