@catacomb-cherub
Their midnight chase was slowing to a crawl. The train of sleek sports models and sturdy Jeeps was edging towards the outskirts of some irrelevant Heartlands town or other which was a rather welcome sight. The drive from Sonoma to Miami was a long and lonely one. There was a gas station that would serve for now, refill the tanks, change a tyre. And the young ones needed to feed, badly. Lestat was mostly out of commission, with his fledglings to dote on him, so Santino made no plans to check on his state. There was nothing the boy could tell him right now that would amount to more than senseless babbling.
Santino parked his car and got out. In a few hours the sun would rise. It was best to prepare his sleeping arrangements and look after the machine. He spied Marius and Pandora, a withered portrait of the once so admirable Ancients. There was Khayman, too, who fascinated Santino beyond measure and dwarfed them all with his presence. He also saw Armand and he was likely the one he had the least to say to. They locked eyes for a moment. The Italian gave a curt nod in greeting before he opened the hood of his car and checked on the engine, his unclipped hair falling in front of his face like a curtain. Another moment passed and the wandering glance he had felt returned. Santino didn’t turn to look back but only pushed up his sleeves to reach into the intricate maze of cables and machinery.
“Are you not going to hunt with the others?” He asked blankly.
