The packs on the back of his Aprilia RSV 1000R are filled with books, most of which are even older than even he is. He parts the bike by the side of the Metropolitan and slings the heavy saddle bags over his shoulder with little effort. Once within the safety of the museum, he removes his helmet and continues through the deserted hallways. Only once does he encounter another. A young man armed with a pistol he is ill trained to used and a flask light. The young man smiles and greets Jiaolong who in return nods and smirks at the kid, making the poor thing stumble over his own feet.
Humans. Always a sources of endless amusement.
Jiaolong has been studying text, after text since the meeting ended on Halloween night. Only once or twice has he ventured from his windowless room in the basement of the museum to find food and pick up things from his apartment. After feeding earlier tonight he feels quite a bit more refreshed.
Once Jiao reaches his study room, he changes into more comfortable clothes than his motorcycling leathers. There are texts, books, scrolls and random papers scattered on every surface of the large room. Three of the four large walls are filled with shelves of books, while the fourth wall holds racks of carefully labeled boxes. A desk and tables are scattered in the center, as if pushed away from the walls. Jiao seats himself in a chair at the worn desk and pulls one of many books out of his saddle bags.
He searches through the texts and his notes for a while before leaning back in his chair and sighing. Enough time has been spent here. He looks back down at the pages in front of him and an idea begins to form in his mind.
Well, that’s one way of looking at things…if I were an insane man with a thing for obscure linguistics.
Jiao takes out his cell phone and first dials Fatima. Not surprisingly he gets her machine and not the woman herself; after all she is very busy and has been meeting with other lately.
“Evening Fatima al-Luban, Primogen of the New York City Venture Clan, this is Jiaolong Ito of the Toreador Clan. I have researching the Malkavian prophecy since the night it was spoken and have come across some discoveries and information that you might find useful in your investigation. I do not wish to discuss such matters over the phone, so I propose we meet somewhere and speak in person. You pick the time and place and I will accommodate you, though I plan to contact Skiouros and meet with him as well, hopefully before I meet with you. If you need to reach me my cell phone number is 555-235-6785. I look forward to hearing your ideas and what you have uncovered about the prophecy as well.”
With that he hangs up and flips through the many numbers in his phone before finding the Malkavian Primogen’s number. The line rings for a few moments before the other picks up. Jiao is almost surprised that the other is answering his phone and that his assistant is not the one on the line.
“Evening Skiouros. This is Jiaolong Ito of the Toreador Clan. I am sure you remember that we met at the party during All Hallow’s Eve. I have been researching the prophecy you delivered that night and would be honored to speak with you again; the sooner the better. Is there a time and place that is convenient for you?”