Just after the crowd had gone and I was about to enter the pool, a pale-faced Cissy approached me.“Can I talk to you, sir?” She asked nervously.�...Of course you can, but I would prefer to be called ‘Roger’, not ‘Sir’.”I waved a hand suggesting that we sat down. She perched gingerly on the deck chair as if it would collapse underneath her.“I think I had better continue to call you ‘Sir’,” Cissy said. “I have been told to apologise to you…”“You,” I emphasised the ‘you’, “Have nothing to apologise. She had a tattoo on her neck, one Antoinette had not noticed from her angle earlier. And from how the woman was speaking, she was more than a little drunk. Perhaps that had been the key to Jack’s success?“Hello,” Antoinette said, grinning her devil’s grin at the woman.“This is Alex,” Jack said, sliding into the booth. “She listens to that god awful dubstep crap.”Alex punched the Ventrue in the arm. “Sorry my stuff makes you want to move your body, instead of put in earplugs.”A bit of that. More

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