Markus glared at his brother for reasons too unknown for the vampire. Maybe he was hungry... Or maybe he just needed to chew somebody out over something. But he wasn't in a good mood. Glowing crimson eyes narrowed slightly before he leaned back in the chair he was sitting in. All Zaou was doing was read a book... In friggin' English. That language whose mysterious under cuttings was always the downfall of the Greek vampire.
Eventually, Zaou sighed and flicked his swirling silver eyes up from the book. "What, Markus?" the Cherokee said, a bit exasperated.
"Bored," muttered the albino.
"Then call Rosette. I'm sure she'll be happy to oblige your needs," Zaou said shifting in the chair he was sitting in. While he was a rather old vampire, he rarely drank human blood; preferring to drink the blood of animals as he has done throughout his entire existence. His master-ship over Tiffany was more of a... formality. He provided her protection from the other vampires.
The Greek tch-ed. "Don't want to."
"Then quit bemoaning," snapped the Native. At his brother's sudden confusion, Zaou sighed. He had used a word the Greek didn't understand in the English tongue. "Um... It means to express discontent." Markus nodded quickly. Like a bird. Zaou managed a small chuckle.
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