Berlin - 2A (Overtime - Paul's POV)
I had been looking forward to meeting Patricia DeMontfort again. She showed an unusual strength – especially for one of her clan - when facing the Brandenburg Gate, and the hints made at her impulsive nature… well, it can be an entertaining mix. So I pursued an opportunity to see her again.

Former Anarch, former Prince. A sadist, a murderer and a diablerist, if the rumors are to be believed. Patricia is a vampire who, should the occasion arise, merits no mercy. I liked her as soon as I met her. Or rather, I should have, and I wanted to. Her established reputation and her behavior at court suggested that we have a lot in common and that’s increasingly rare – as the elders fade away, the neonates and ancilla taking their places are often overburdened with conscience. As, apparently, I am of late.

As I said, I wanted to like her. I did and do, but not in the way I expected. In fact, I'm still not quite sure what it is about her that attracts me, and that in and of itself is simultaneously irritating and intriguing.

Her aura – a mix of psychosis and curiosity - didn’t surprise me at all. An incurious Malkavian is a rarity indeed. Her manner wasn’t as diffident as it could be to one of my station, which I suppose is a legacy of her Anarch past and American associations. Her clothes were clearly carefully picked out and entirely uninspiring. I’m hard pressed to even remember the color of her shirt. Of greatest interest is her face, and what it implied.

DeMontfort’s reputation is not undeserved, that much was obvious by her aura and her visage. We all struggle to keep the Beast at bay, figuratively and literally, but this Malkavian seemed to be losing that fight. At one point, I glimpsed her true face, not the closely-fitted mask of her mortal features and saw chalky, waxen skin drawn tightly over her skull – a reliable sign that the Beast is constantly close.

If Patricia had been hoping – as I suspect she had – that I would ask her to carve me up like so much meat, she was to be disappointed. I wasn’t interested in her ability to inflict pain, but in mine. I’ve lost track of myself, of my abilities.

I was also curious about Patricia’s strengths and potential weaknesses, following her rather facile offer of “help”. It’s very easy to claim the role of Virgil, but so many kindred haven’t been through real hell. If this court is going to need her to face Brandenburg, well… her weaknesses had to be known. And I wanted to satisfy my own curiosity.

So many vampires are so proud of their dignity. It used to be one of my chief delights to tear that dignity from them – just because I can. I’m sure the psychologists have an excellent name for it, but that’s never worried me. I am what I am, just as DeMontfort. But lately, I’ve come to doubt what I am, hence last night. We’re an excellent collection of mannerisms, the two of us, and so alike as to be able to get underneath each other’s skins almost immediately.

I learned a lot in a short time. She’s used to accepting unpleasant commands. Her sense of curiosity is almost dangerously overdeveloped. She likes to push buttons, of course. And she’s rather repressed, which is strangely contradictory for one so Bestial.

I believe that not one single thing that I did to her was new to her. For one so young, she’s had a varied existence and she’s survived it, another telling fact.

Whereas I couldn’t surprise her – one incident aside, perhaps - she certainly managed to surprise me. In fact, I must admit that she seriously upset me. I was quite serious when I warned Yvette that she could make me the laughingstock of Europe. If Patricia has managed to identify her as the cause of my recent turmoil, there’s no telling who else has.

So, Patricia DeMontfort is stronger than I gave her credit for, and I’m weaker than I care to admit. She didn’t fall prey to the Beast, not even with provocation and self-righteousness on her side. Indeed, she positively danced on the edge of madness.

Then again, surely I shouldn’t expect a Malkavian to do otherwise?

It belatedly occurs to me to wonder: repressed or oppressed? If the latter, oppressed by whom? Given her clan, I’m inclined to believe that it’s the former. She’s no doubt entangled in obstacles of her own making. Those obstacles might be worth investigating. In fact, I think I must. She left me knowing that she had the upper hand, and I can’t let that remain the case. I must regain my strength. I must win.

Although… I can’t still the voice suggesting that, for the first time in centuries, I might have to settle for a tie…