Damon

Frederick was seated in the bar that I had forgotten the name of. He waved but seemed considerably less enthusiastic. "You look different," I said to him as he patted my shoulder.

 "You saw me, didn't you? By the way, what the fuck happened in the lower City? In a way, I'm still a little shaken up by this whole Cassandra thing, but I'm fine, right? I think I am fine."

He was sweating, and his usual margarita was replaced with a glass of water. "You don't have money, do you? You can tell?"

"I don't. I don't have anybody. Nobody, absolutely nada, zip. The current family head... must...