"Three confirmed including Faith. Lucifer'll try 'n wring out a display of 'em" Marc caught a tapered, thick rimmed mug of cafe noir off a trembly kneed alp called Koki who resembled a piggy bat with V-shaped , floppy ears, patchwork socks and a bright, enthusiastic beam. Koki, the youngest of De Gaul's alps with the relative age of a six year old, was new to the service industry, which in Alp society is regarded with the criticality of enlistment.

Marc regarded the clumsy baby alp curiously. Koki had taken a shine to Faith who had a maternal soft spot for adorably kooky creatures Koki the kookiest a critter could get. Separated from his mother several weeks too early Koki had begun snooping on Faith to oddball deduce what she might be needing at any given moment. Faith for example had quickly bitten down a reply to Blair, reflecting on the coffee pot, in Gremory's presence that past evening. At the snap of Faith's teeth Koki had cartwheeled in on a puff of lime green smoke with a pack of dental floss and a sealed dog chew in the shape of a hamburger.

"It'll ney hold chaos off. They're bored. We're all bloody bored. Sitting on our arses. Debauching ourselves 'till our balls sag blinking glazed-eyed into the existential petite moir” Marc dragged several centimetres of bitter-smooth coffee into his mouth dismissing the over-helpful alp “Immortality's too long, the damned too powerful and civilisation long past dull" Marc glared at the building amber-autumn sun spilling with morning's crispness into the drawing room.

She doesn’t want t’ come downstairs.

Koki, still holding the coffee pot by it's handle, stung by Marc's dismissal, glanced between Marc and this morning's copy of The Omen where Faith's photo trended front page. She was upstairs. Koki blinked. But there she was. She'd shrunk. Was this what happened when they didn't get breakfast? Koki looked anxiously up where Gremory sat opposite Marc. He'd been instructed not to take her anything. Koki began shuffling from sock to sock.

Marc checked the belly of his halved espresso and heaved himself out of the swallowing, flowery upholstery "The NUGET alone'd start in-house warfare" he unscrewed the thin aluminium cap of a sickly Supermarché brandy dropping a couple of fingers into his cup.

Gremory cocked his head examining around his son's arm to the bottle, glanced at the better quality decanter resting at the drinks cabinet and shook his head into his own mug “She is wary. Give her a moment” Gremory shrugged “She must come down in good time. I did not send up coffee. Lynceus was a good acquisition. A control of the public eye"

Marc tilted his cup to look into its innards "why is the coffee always gone" Gremory straightened with a flicker of low-amp delight but Marc cut him off "Aye. Ye've Netflix"

Gremory sagged as much as it was possible to sag with regimentally trained posture and gestured to an older alp with his own cup "Only God stands higher than Lucifer, Marc" he held his palms out for a moment "all new enemies made pale by comparison"

Marc studied the breaking sun on an iron twist chair and table by the patio doors "Mm" he sniffed snatching the bottleneck and dropping a couple more fingers blandly into his empty cup "I saw you. Two twenty Decatur Street”

Gremory’s eyebrows bounced and he inclined his head “I came looking for you in the French quarter”

“Said she couldn't curse the academies without Louisanna's land beneath her toes and its current through her veins. Ours is an infamous POE for press 'n tourist" Marc shrugged placing a thin cigar from a gold tin of Cafe Creme between his teeth and digging in his jeans back pocket for his flip lighter "Over-priced. Shit view. You were standing on the park corner. Calve length Valentino. Piccioli's romantic side of masculinity. That navy against your gold"

Gremory's chin dropped smirking "Oh you liked that, did you? I very much enjoyed the studs. Very modern"

Marc dropped leisurely back to his seat "The silver"

"I considered altering…"

"No" he held Gremory's eyes opposite him "You were stunning"

Gremory gave him a knowing look "Hm. I did not sense you"

"No. Cathy. New game. Deferred attention. Could be right there" Marc threw a hand out to the terrace "and us rough-neck ape-men,wouldn't know. Three part play in the male-female negotiations: they think they let us think we're in control whilst we let them think they're in control of us thinking we're in control. Boys are easier"

Gremory let the final three words slide in an effort to keep the mood warm "Mm, there is something captivating in a woman's confidence when she believes she plucks the power from our fingertips" Gremory breathed a soft laugh "How was Agares' Malakhim?"

"Vegetable with a millennia of general information" Marc reclined backwards "Distinction 'tween an abundant information log and thinking well. Caught him before Agares' houses were informed. Would of been one of the six, now five. Lucifer'll keep word low and Lynceus it out of the press for insurance. Saved the skin for Cathy. She's 't making a corset"

Gremory's golden brows bounced "You flayed him?"

Marc leant forward elbows on knees "I had great fun"

Gremory's head fell through a dreamy arch "A corset? That's very sweet"

"Mm. I thought so. She was very taken with the lad. Literally trying to get inside him. Advantages' being a man we can express these raw, primal emotions much simpler" Marc pushed back straightening in the seat and glancing back up at the ceiling "T'll make good armour for her" on subject of breakable females "is she healthy?"

"She is in liver and kidney failure, revolves in and out of diabetes, is an alcoholic on par with yourself, appears to have a dichotomised personality disorder taxing her mental health and has the bone density of" Gremory jerked two locked fingers "Dans d'autres pire, something is keeping her alive"

Marc considered this "The TOL scandal of '91. House Orias. Agares'. All over the headlines"

Gremory blinked twice with conversational whiplash "Oui"

DED states the following on TOLs or fibers of reality:

A TOL or Thread of Life is a summary of an existence spun by the fates Clotho, Lachesis and Atropos. Based on the original Moirai tapestry TOLs are composed of a near infinite number of TOL filaments [See: The laughable accuracy of Human String Theory] and hold the contents and general plot of any given existence whilst being significantly more space convenient. The Moirai Tapestry is now on display in Picasso's Museum of Obscure Non-Art, Limbo, as this is the only space large enough to hold it. Earlier TOL productions resemble a half inch lattice seemingly composed of wheat.

Upon the human cereal Shreddies’ launch in 1939 TOLs have been spun in a circular formation to allow rapid identification should any human be likely to consume one and thus forth subject any one of ninety nine billion one hundred million and two pre production existences to an acidic, stupid, futile, and on basis of these adjectives, relatively customary, end. Many conspirators believe the scenario stated prior [See: previous sentence] a likely origin of God.

"I remember 'cause of the date line up. Nothing’d give the houses of Agares more pleasure than tearing a new hole in your shiesera. But. Came out, the TOL was returned to the fates untouched. I didn't worry. Date of, Faith's, conception goes by" Marc made a gesture with his hand as though waving away a gust of smoke "Lewis-

"Louis"

"Has an informant in Agares' house. The houses of Agares need to pay more attention to their lower order legion prep, bloody elitists. 'Twas an attempt t’ kill her. The TOL wasn't tampered with, what there was of it in its original state, but, Faith was on artificial fibre placed there by Lucifer. No. That was their original plan. They couldn't unpick her from reality. Something, like ye said, was protecting her. They did manage to destroy some of the filament taking her origin from level 0 down to Level 3.G. Born to kisnick. Shoulda been a death sentence"

"She told me she was born to a mortal family"

"And she successfully lied to ye. I'm already proud"

"You believe Agares ordered an attempt for her assasination"

"No. Agares, earn of Solomon crap, doesn't know what era we're in let alone the intrinsics of our love life. Orias acted as an off-the-shoulder gift to their god"

"Which is why you took Agares' malakhim descendant"

"Aye. One less next gen noble for the press ta feed on"

"Mm. Marc" Gremory placed his cup carefully down "There is something else in relation to Faith"

Koki dematerialised.

Koki popped back on the coffee table. He landed with a thud and a rattle of china in saucers. Dazed he blinked rapidly, recovered and then zapped up into the air before diving back down bunching the newspaper in his claws. Desperately he jabbed his bulbous nose into the paper's folds his crumpled snout leaving a moist snail trail over the image of Faith.

Alps compose an idea of their surroundings more dominantly by scent than sight so Koki became very confused and withdrew the full length of his oyster-grey tongue, which extended out coiled at his ankles, to lick the ink. He squealed loudly and hopped onto Marc latching his toenails and balling his fists in his shirt whilst oinking urgently.

Marc wrapped a fist around Koki's abdomen winding the alp and holding him at arm's length. Koki wheezing kicked his arms and legs pointedly towards the newspaper.

Gremory scooted forward in his chair "Ah. He's very young. He doesn't-

Koki, who could not understand why no one was listening to him wailed a little louder.

"She's up-

Marc was cut off as Koki switched to bellowing isolated blasts of wale left and then right like a possessed siren. Marc dug his boot into the rug pulling himself forward and flipped the crumpled newspaper over. Koki blinked his watery eyes searching the tabletop.

"Try upstairs" Marc drawlled

Koki, who'd cried so hard fluid was collecting at Marc's ribs, gulped, hiccuped a toxic green bubble and then popped in a dash of purpose driven Slavic fermented smoke.