There was nothing natural in his nature as he delivered the commencement speech, although it may have appeared that way to the Kine within the audience. Nearly two centuries of frivolous public speaking had molded the young man into a near perfect orator. So it would come as no surprise to anyone to find the blonde haired Ventrue carefully scanning the faces of his audience and rummaging through the mental decades the images of each visage his emerald eyes fell across.

[i:89f9973e1c]"...of course, none of this would be possible without the expertise of my interior consultant, Ms. Katherine Belvadere."[/i:89f9973e1c] Gabriel stepped aside and allowed the polite applause to wash over the gleaming Toreador. Even from the furthest corner of his vision, her beaming smile exposed her vulnerability to flattery. His attention, however, was focused keenly on the balding man standing three rows from the front, smoking a cigarette within the interior of his plush, new casino.

***************

[i:89f9973e1c]"It's good to see you again Gabriel."[/i:89f9973e1c] Woodrow stated as he shut the door behind him. The conference room was small, yet suitable. All the essentials were present.

[i:89f9973e1c]"I wish I could say the same. It's unlike you to show up at such a "public" gathering. I take it you're..."[/i:89f9973e1c] Gabriel glanced down at the guest manifest supplied only moments before by Tyler, [i:89f9973e1c]"...Rick Blaine?"[/i:89f9973e1c]

[i:89f9973e1c]"I couldn't resist."[/i:89f9973e1c] Woodrow smiled, his canine's glistening brilliantly. He was certainly not an imposing figure. He stood quite shy of six feet, spectacled and balding. He wore a child's face, a hint of alcoholism in his mortal days evident in the dark tints on his nose and cheeks. Even in undeath, vices caught up with a man.

In the world of Kindred however, Woodrow's mortal attributes had served him well. From the little Gabriel knew of the man, he had formed quite an admirable opinion of him. The young Irishman was a prodigy in his own wright, but Woodrow, a mere sixty years undead, was threatening to overshadow him.

[i:89f9973e1c]"Very cute. Why are you here?"[/i:89f9973e1c] Gabriel posed at last.

[i:89f9973e1c]"The Strategoi have a little task for you."[/i:89f9973e1c]

((tis short, but i simply HAD to post SOMETHING...even if it's nothing.

yaaay!!!

The Casino Gabrielle.

Poe thought his father would have appreciated the sheer silliness in that name. The pure vanity of it would have had Porter in hysterics. He imagined he would have gone out of his way to offend the guests. Probably by pissing on someone’s leg.

He smiled. It was an amusing image. But Poe was a different sort from his progenitor.

He fingered his beard as the Chrysler Crossfire drew to a stop outside the extravagance that the casino building resided within. Locking the car as he stepped out, he straightened his tie, neatly folded his jacket over his left arm and walked in, smiling a little too toothily at the doormen. They had seen it all before, they were Ghouls after all, but something about the blonde gentleman that passed them set their teeth on edge. Something about his eyes? His smile? Or maybe the quiet power and litheness of his gait as he oozed confidence with each careful step.

He was here for three reasons.

One, he held a peculiar fondness for gambling his estate away.

Two, his guts drew him to seek an alliance with the Irishman O’Brien. After all they had something in common. More than either had yet to realise it seems.

And last but not least, he wanted blood. Not any blood you understand. But the blood of a particular prey. One he had it on good authority had something to do with his and his father’s fate.

He moved with a feline grace. Chatting and greeting the others with equal measure. Never becoming cloying in his compliments when faced by women, and never displaying too much bravado when the assembly of men and Kindred alike threatened to overwhelm him.

His Sire would have been thrilled to watch his protege in action. He paused between the shoulders of a couple. Sipping from his fluted glass as he listened to Gabriel’s announcement. Smiling at the appearance of his prey, and adding his own appreciative sounds to the applause as Gabriel officially declared the Casino’s opening.

He watched each muscle twitch on his prey’s back. Measuring and considering any effective response he could be capable of. Before quashing them with a few of his own. The couple giggled at his self-assuredness raising a purr from his bearded throat.

He smiled at their amusement. Kissing the woman’s hand before moving sinuously forward. His movements like ink as he moved closer.

He had dressed for the occasion. The smooth, flowing lines of his suit, only interrupted by the fold of his jacket resting on his forearm. The fawn softness of the fabric offset by his sun-kissed complexion and the angular trim of his beard, his tousled hair pulled into a pony tail and held in place by a tight loop of an expensive cord.

His shirt ruffled as he feigned a yawn. Deliberately revealing his minutely elongated canine teeth, his tongue curling cat-like between them. The vision of which sent the couple politely scrambling away. Hiding their unease exceptionally well with a cough and the man suggesting they acquire another drink.

Poe found humans amusing. Mortality, a condition he had only recently lost, had been a perplexing one.

He was a mere four feet from Gabriel’s shoulder when Gabriel’s manserf approached. A curious look on his handsome but boyish face.

[i:eae03d61d6]“Sir. This was just delivered. I think you should see it.”[/i:eae03d61d6]

Poe froze. His eyes locked on Gabriel. But also on his target.

Gabriel looked at the small envelope. He noticed Tyler had opened it already, but dismissed his curiosity as simple concern. Unfolding the tiny package revealed a simple swan white business card. Embossed lettering overlaid with a scrawl only achievable by using a fountain pen and a steady movement. He read the words silently.

[i:eae03d61d6][b:eae03d61d6]We need to talk. We have mutual concerns.[/i:eae03d61d6][/b:eae03d61d6]

His eyes fell on the embossed text hidden in part by the ink.

[i:eae03d61d6][b:eae03d61d6]Grendel![/b:eae03d61d6][/i:eae03d61d6]

yaaay!!!

Gabriel's anger seethed inside him, outwardly the only noticeable difference was a lack of a smile. Woodrow's smile, however, beamed as brightly as ever. Ventrue etiquette stated that a united front was to be maintained above all other things. Here, in the relative safety of his own building, he felt he could at last express his true feelings.

[i:096d684efb]"Does that upset you Gabriel? That I would come down and deface your grand opening with a request? Surely you haven't forgotten those who've helped you achieve what minimal success you can claim?"[/i:096d684efb]

[i:096d684efb]"Of course not. But unlike yourself, I'm not so willing to whore myself out as the Directorate's errand boy."[/i:096d684efb]

Now it was Woodrow's turn to lose a smile. He shrugged the insult off and pressed forward, his pudgy little fingers forming a tight ball.

[i:096d684efb]"There were no less then three robberies last night...transportation and mining equipment stolen primarily. All from a group of warehouses in a small hamlet in Maine. This equipment is more or less property of the Directorate. They want you to look into it."[/i:096d684efb]

Gabriel ran his finger along the edge of the business card within his pocket. He had never known Porter to invest in calling cards before. It seemed awfully....civilized. He was shocked that he hadn't noticed the old Gangrel in the crowds, unless he was outside the Casino...who did Tyler say gave him that card?

[i:096d684efb]"Well?"[/i:096d684efb] Woodrow looked impatient. His beady-rodent like eyes peered at Gabriel with hatred.

[i:096d684efb]"Why should I waste the manpower? What interest is it of mine? I thought the Council had 'blacklisted' me."[/i:096d684efb] the Irishman replied, taking his statement as a definative answer he turned his back on the man. He heard a scoff from behind.

[i:096d684efb]"You mean you don't know?! HAHAHAHAHAHA!!! Gabriel, you've become lazier than even [b:096d684efb]I[/b:096d684efb] could've expected!"[/i:096d684efb]

The slim Ventrue turned on his heel, and for a moment wondered in the Directorate would mind if their messanger boy returned with a fountain pen embedded firmly in his shifty little eyes.

[i:096d684efb]"I want you out. Tell the Directorate to take a walk down a sunny beach, I'm not interested. If you think..."[/i:096d684efb]

[i:096d684efb]"The equipment was stolen from your company!!"[/i:096d684efb]

The next several minutes were blurred out in a haze of hatred and humiliation. By the time the reality of the situation hit him, Woodrow had left the conference room, his hysterical laughter still echoing from down the hall.

Gabriel clearly wasn’t happy. And even though this could have made an excellent moment for introductions, Poe elected to pursue the prey he sought after.

He made his excuses, watching as Gabriel, still fuming, was led away by his men. He watched as the Irishman clenched and unclenched his fists, trying to subsume the anger the Ventrue’s slight had riled in him.

Woodrow, unaware of his follower, walked out to his car. An ageing, but still beautiful Porsche. The gleaming, polished black body glinting as the Casino lights danced over the hood.

Woodrow lit a cigarette, drawing a lungful, just one of his mortal habits he still had time for. He chuckled darkly as he sent the message to his benefactor’s pager, not seeing the Crossfire coupe purr into life behind him.

The two cars moved away from the Casino, pulling slowly onto the bridge that crossed the ancient river. Cascadia stood gothic and imposing, looking down upon the two sports cars as they began their game of, dare I say it, cat and mouse.

Poe sloped back in the seat, the interior cocooning him, moulding him into a position not unlike the overall line of the car’s body. He tapped the automatic box, shifting gear as the Porsche 911 rolled onto the highway that led to the hills. Woodrow dragged on his cigarette, blowing plumes of stale lung-air and pungent French tobacco smoke out of a window. He switched on the car sound system, smiling smugly as the opening strings of a Bach symphony rose. He glanced behind himself, shrugging off the approaching headlights of another car as an impatient commuter trying to get home.

[i:55ad1303a7]“Forget it pal. This is my road tonight.”[/i:55ad1303a7] He said to no-one in particular.

He would have happily maintained his dominance of the road ahead, had it not been for Poe’s insistent nudge to his rear bumper.

The leonine Gangrel grinned as he pushed the needle onwards. Woodrow, somewhat surprised but not yet alarmed, accelerated. Intending to leave his annoyance in the dust. But Poe had other things in mind.

Matching the Porsche in speed, and toying with Woodrow’s driving skill or lack of. Poe would begin to over-take then sideswipe before letting Woodrow move ahead again. Woodrow’s long dead heart wanted to thunder in his chest, but he managed to retain an air of dignified calm. At least for a little while.

The nudging became more savage, brutal even, as the two vehicles drew sparks from each other. Poe gunned the Crossfire on, entering a dangerous game of chicken with his prey as a timber-laden truck rounded the bend a mile down. He stuck to the Porsche’s wing until the very last second, a sudden jerk to the side sent the Porsche tumbling and spinning over the embankment. Rolling and bumping through the foliage.

The truck driver, too scared and too late to stop, drove on without looking back.

The Crossfire seemed to roar like some platinum skinned cat as it rolled to a stop by the side of the road. Poe climbed out, tossing his suit jacket and his tie onto the passenger seat.

[i:55ad1303a7]“Woodrow. I’m coming for you. If you don’t play the game I’ll make you suffer you son of a bitch. But if you run I’ll make it quick. It’s your decision. Not that you deserve one.”[/i:55ad1303a7]

Woodrow shook fuzz from his head, stumbling out of the wrecked car and staggering as he looked back at the road. He watched as the headlights of a car peered over the edge, and a powerful engine, a V6 he assumed, came to rest. He reached for his .38 as the driver shouted.

The gun was more of a visual aid in sealing deals. He had never fired a BB gun, never mind a small calibre revolver. Taking careless aim he fired, hoping to scare off the crazed driver that had stranded him.

[i:55ad1303a7]“The gun won’t help you, Woody. Now I’m going to take my time getting ready. I’d strongly advise you use it.”[/i:55ad1303a7]

The Ventrue kept hold of the weapon, the weight some form of reassurance even if his unseen, unknown foe paid it no heed.

------------

Poe stripped now to his waist, stretched his back, relishing the popping sounds as bones seperated and began to knit together in new locations. The sensation was still painful, but he felt it a baptism rather than a curse. He growled as his spine elongated, curving into a tail that moved slowly, snake-like. Dropping to all fours he released the change in its full. Wriggling free of his trousers as the change from man to beast was complete.

The great cat’s forelimbs still retained something of the man in their structure, the clawed pads seeming to cling to the grass verge like fingers.

Woodrow would have liked to soil himself as the first roar reached him. But his bowels remained inert as he began to run into the fern and thicket. He stumbled, tripping forward into a dark stained stream as the second roar called out. The water splashed over him as he crouched on his knees.

A third sound from ten feet to his left made him start, a childish gurgle coming from his throat as his mortal fears came storming to the fore. He fired the gun three times in reply to his bestial hunter’s voice. The shots rang out, deafening him for a moment. The thing that stalked him, went silent too.

Had he killed it? Was it injured and had run off? He wasn’t waiting around to be sure.

Running, his trousers soaked through, he tripped as something got in his feet’s path. He was sure it had been a large paw!

He raised the weapon again, emptying the last remaining shells into air as it disappeared again.

[i:55ad1303a7]“What do you want!? Huh!? What the fuck? Money!? Is that it!? Tell me!”[/i:55ad1303a7]

He sounded desperate, and somewhere in the lion’s head, Poe enjoyed himself.

A deafening roar echoed around the tree stumps and marsh grass that surrounded him. He looked up, pants wet now from the stream, and the panic-blood he’d released.

The creature was like every child’s nightmare. A rippling thing of sinew and claw. It would have, in low-light resembled a lion or another big cat. But it was more than that. It’s head had the square aspect of a lion, it even had a feral attempt at a mane, but the body was leaner, more sleek. And its face was like Old Nick himself. All fangs and fury.

Woodrow raised his hands over his face as the beast ascended.

------------

[i:55ad1303a7]“Wake up!”[/i:55ad1303a7]

[i:55ad1303a7]“Wha?”[/i:55ad1303a7]

A sharp sting shook Woodrow to his senses.

[i:55ad1303a7]“I’m going to be nice to you, Woody. Though by rights I should just dust you right now.”[/i:55ad1303a7]

Woodrow opened his eyes, closing them again as a harsh light was shoved in his face.

[i:55ad1303a7]”Who are you?”[/i:55ad1303a7] He peered through half shut eyes at the semi-shadowed figure. Poe smiled making himself known.

[i:55ad1303a7]“Don’t you know me, Woody? You watched me die and be reborn. And I want to know why.”[/i:55ad1303a7]

[i:55ad1303a7]“I won’t tell you anything! Go ahead, kill me! You don’t scare me! Dumb fuck! Do you know who [b:55ad1303a7]I[/b:55ad1303a7] am?”[/i:55ad1303a7]

Poe grinned, letting something of the lion pass under his face.

Woodrow’s face fell. Hard.

“You! Porter!? It can’t be! You’re dead! I saw him kill you!”

The Gangrel’s face darkened.

[i:55ad1303a7]“No you saw my father, if you like, die. Now I’m collecting his dues. Who are you working for?”[/i:55ad1303a7] He turned a handle, tightening the restraints on Woodrow’s seat. A small stump pushing a millimetre further into his back, just below the neck.

[i:55ad1303a7]“I can do this till your back breaks, or you can make it easy on yourself.”[/i:55ad1303a7]

Woodrow spat blood, a gob splashing on Poe’s left cheek. The Gangrel reacted in kind.

Talion drew a thin line across the Ventrue’s face, just missing his right eye.

[i:55ad1303a7]“The second time won’t be so painless.”[/i:55ad1303a7]

[i:55ad1303a7]“Fuck you! Freak!”[/i:55ad1303a7]

Woodrow wouldn’t show it, but he was terrified. And he knew in his gut that tonight he was through.

[i:55ad1303a7]“Who is Von Ritter? And what has he got to do with O’Brien?”[/i:55ad1303a7]

Woodrow laughed mockingly.

[i:55ad1303a7]“You don’t know? Ha! You’re just as pathetic as each other!”[/i:55ad1303a7]

Poe’s face darkened.

[i:55ad1303a7]“You aren’t going to talk are you?”[/i:55ad1303a7]

Woodrow grinned, shaking his head. His glasses missing a lens. [i:55ad1303a7]“You don’t really think you’ll win, do you?”[/i:55ad1303a7] His tone was mocking. Teasing. Like that of a child with a secret it won’t share.

Poe thrust forward, the point of Talion ripping effortlessly through Woodrow’s chest. He twisted the elegant weapon before pulling it back, destroying the Undead heart. Woodrow crumbled to dust as he sheathed the sword.

He stepped over the dust that once was a vampire, his fingers reaching for the stop button on a video camera. He smiled knowingly into the camera lens....

[i:55ad1303a7]“Things change.”[/i:55ad1303a7]
------------

The next night, a padded envelope arrived at Gabriel’s quarters. Inside, Tyler found a video cassette.

double yaaay!!!!

[i:d1faef97a5]Enough foreplay, pup. Thy time is up.[/i:d1faef97a5]

Pain. An unnatural feeling. Draining. Defeat. A cataclysmic flash of blinding red and yellow light. A desperate attempt to cling, to resist. To return.

A receptive option. Hope.

A sudden surge of alien memories, unexpected, unwanted.

"[b:d1faef97a5]AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!![/b:d1faef97a5]"

Eyes opened (again) for the first time. Confusion. Bubbles. Tubes. Acute ears perceiving noises. Voices.

"What is going on!?"
"Number One Eighty-Two is having some sort of seizure, sir!"
"Brain activity off the charts!"

Dull, fog-like figures moving. Immersed in a sea of blinking lights.

"Increase IV anesthetic! Get its heart rate back down, goddammit!!"

Slipping back. Eyes slowly close. Sounds become dull, meaningless, irrelevant.

[i:d1faef97a5]Porter!?[/i:d1faef97a5]

[i:41d75543b8]"Maybe there was a horrible accident and he's been mutilated."[/i:41d75543b8] Tyler was in rare form tonight. Apparently, the pickings had been ripe at the previous evening's event. The youth had worked his way into the slip, and more importantly the affection, of several young hereisses. His mortal tendencies sated, the Curse of Caine seemed less burdensome tonight.

Gabriel's face remained stern, his thin lips drawn tightly together. His desk, generally kept tidy, was awash in papers. Security reports, loss estimates, inventory manifests and other odds and ends cluttered the sizeable workspace. He sat behind the tide of papers in a red satin robe, a chilled glass of blood in one hand, his other placed thoughtfully on his chin.

[i:41d75543b8]"Very entertaining Tyler."[/i:41d75543b8] he stated dryly. The ghoul nodded and went about his work, but the smile did not leave his face. Gabriel noted this and continued: [i:41d75543b8]"Porter has never been a fan of correspondance. It seems odd that he would communicate through notes and now..."[/i:41d75543b8] he placed his hand atop the black cassette, [i:41d75543b8]"...this."[/i:41d75543b8]

[i:41d75543b8]"I don't know what to suggest Gabriel. Gangrel's never make much sense."[/i:41d75543b8] Tyler offered.

Gabriel nodded and glanced down at the numbers on the manifest. Three dump trucks and a Cat. Gone. How could security be so loose? And why would the Directorate [b:41d75543b8]really[/b:41d75543b8] get involved? Gabriel refused to believe it was simply because they considered any property of his to be indirectly theirs. There had to be something else.

He glanced at the address of the warehouse. New Haven, Maine.

[i:41d75543b8]"Well, put the video on Tyler. Let us see what the old dog says."[/i:41d75543b8]

[i:41d75543b8]"Alright Gabriel. Tell your friends to send DVDs from now on eh? There wasn't a VHS player left in the house...we had to send Felipe out to get one."[/i:41d75543b8]

The tape disappeared into the VCR's maw and after the brief sound of film turning, Gabriel turned his attention to the screen...

((wow a posting fest!! ta for mentioning Kay Gabe....I'm a bit tied up with packing at the moment, but I have a night free tomorrow so I promise I will post summat :)

Gabriel watched as the image, initially somewhat fuzzy, cleared showing a small metal walled room. A light lit the room, its own image hidden just off screen, but its effect was apparent. The sound was filled with static before a blonde haired figure dressed in a tunic, and baggy leggings stepped into shot, his muscled back to the camera. An elegant cage-hilted sword hung from a simple belt at his waist. From behind he looked every bit the buccaneer. The blonde disappeared from screen and the camera focused on a slumped figure strapped to an archaic looking torture chair.

[i:358ebbc691]“Wake up!”[/i:358ebbc691]

The voice, evidently that of the swordsman, snarled a command at the prisoner. Gabriel’s eyes widened as he recognised, even through the mudstains and torn silk, the form of Woodrow. Granted a Woodrow the likes of which he had never even imagined seeing. He watched as his previous irritation dribbled blood from a cut lip as the blonde swatted his drink reddened cheek. Hard.

The Ventrue stuttered with shock.

Gabriel stifled a morbid grin as his Clan-mate was interrogated, forcibly. He turned the volume up slightly as the two figures spoke. His jaw dropping as the blonde spoke of Porter’s destruction.

He half mumbled to himself... [i:358ebbc691]“Porter? Dead?”[/i:358ebbc691]

As if listening, the blonde answered his questions.

[i:358ebbc691]“No you saw my father, if you like, die. Now I’m collecting his dues. Who are you working for?”[/i:358ebbc691]

Gabriel fumbled with his words, [i:358ebbc691]“father?”[/i:358ebbc691]

He watched the taped drama unfold. His mind reeling at Woodrow’s taunts. What had he known? Who was this Von Ritter? He silently witnessed the destruction of a fellow Ventrue. And in his elation he failed to hear the door to his study open slowly.

Poe stepped in, one hand on Tyler’s mouth, the other shushing the young Kindred.

[i:358ebbc691]“Please excuse me. But yes, I said father. Forgive my intrusion, but it would appear we are in deeper water than I...fathomed.”[/i:358ebbc691] Poe’s eyes glittered, the blue tint flashing with cheeky humour.

(('tis a tad brief, but I wasn't sure where to go with it :/ Post please Gabe :D

((I especially liked that mysterious 182's post.....im intrigued!! awesome writing, by the way!!

For a moment, every nerve in Gabriel's body stood on end. The sensation in itself was entirely unfamiliar and worked only to further the Ventrue's distress. He stared blankly at the figure clutching his trusty retainer. The frazzled Kindred collected his thoughts and began to think logically once more. The resemblance to Porter was striking, Gabriel noted.

[i:9f08f30011]"You're half right. You're in deeper trouble than you fathomed."[/i:9f08f30011] Gabriel said, his voice passive. [i:9f08f30011]"You've murdered a ranking member of the Ventrue Clan, broken into my home, and on a slightly more personal note impersonated a close friend of mine."[/i:9f08f30011]

Gabriel stood from behind his desk, his finger discreetly pressing an inconspicuous black button on it's underside. Downstairs, well beyond the scope of even their tuned ears, an alarm cried out urgently and a response team burst into action. The ghouls, sired from Gabriel's own vitae, burst into a frenzy of activity, collecting their arsenal and gear.

Upstairs, Poe received the accusations agreeably enough. The Ventrue's stern words failed to rile him as they might his slightly more haggard doppelganger, but Gabriel took notice as the slim figure dropped his hand from Tyler's mouth.

[i:9f08f30011]"The enemy of my enemy is my friend Mr. O'Brien. That outdates even you."[/i:9f08f30011] he smiled slightly.

[i:9f08f30011]"Who are you?"[/i:9f08f30011] Gabriel snapped, moving from behind his desk now. Poe stood his ground.

[i:9f08f30011]"I had hoped the video would serve as an ample explanation."[/i:9f08f30011]

[i:9f08f30011]"Porter has no children! He's a vampire for Christ's sake."[/i:9f08f30011] the Ventrue could feel his anger rising and he struggled to keep it in check.

[i:9f08f30011]"Had."[/i:9f08f30011]

[i:9f08f30011]"What?"[/i:9f08f30011].

[i:9f08f30011]"Porter [b:9f08f30011]had[/b:9f08f30011] no children."[/i:9f08f30011] Poe said solemnly. Gabriel searched his eyes for some glimpse of deception but found none.

The door burst open and figure clad in black kevlar swarmed in, their automatic weapons held high. Like sharks they circled the intruder and Gabriel could smell their bloodlust.

Poe had not reacted to the assault, but stood watching Gabriel with his feline eyes, chin slightly uptilt.

[i:9f08f30011]"This man has violated my domain. I have the right to react accordingly."[/i:9f08f30011] he motioned to two of the agents, [i:9f08f30011]"Take hold of him. If he moves or resists, dust him."[/i:9f08f30011]

The agents took hold of the man, who merely stared at Gabriel. The air took on a static that was evident to all as the Ventrue invoked his blood magic.

[i:9f08f30011]"Who are you?"[/i:9f08f30011] he asked. The Irishman's normally green eyes now took on a crimson hue, and his pale skin flushed with life.

[i:9f08f30011]"I,"[/i:9f08f30011] Poe said evenly, [i:9f08f30011]"...am Porter's son."[/i:9f08f30011]

He closed his eyes and listened. The words resonated in Gabriel's mind as the talent of the Ventrue deciphered their earnestness. At last he opened his eyes.

[i:9f08f30011]"Release him...and leave us."[/i:9f08f30011]

((Wow! Jeez how do I follow that?

((with what you do best. :D