The Ripper

William Jack Holloway

William could hardly understand what it was about the redheaded damsel that interested him, nor did he understand what it was that made him walk towards the car. The Russian woman was hardly forcing his hand, nor was he in any way unable to escape. She held him within no physical restraints - not that he couldn't have got out of them if he was. She had given him absolutely no reason to think that getting in that black sedan wouldn't result in her taking him directly to a cell within the heart of the Council's grip. And yet, despite that, the man found himself getting into that car alongside of her. The Duke felt positively ill as soon as the door shut and the Russian woman gave those instructions that set them moving. There was no escaping now and no turning back. It was that that had the Englishman inquiring on the name of the damsel beside him. Her noted sigh only caused the man's lip to quirk up into that playful smirk as he looked at her.

"I suppose that is fair." He commented as he reached up to run a hand through his dark locks, making those strands stick up at awkward angles. He made no effort to fix It as she finally gave that name. "Anastasia," He echoed back to her, his brow quirking upward. The name, the Russian accent, that face. He had seen photos of the Romanov family in their prime. And after their fall, it was hard not to see the photos of the family everywhere he went. And now, looking at her in the dark car, he could see those resemblances. Still, despite that recognition that was clear on his features, he made no further display of her name. If he lived to see this through, he would find a time to ask questions of her. But now was hardly the time for that. Still, despite that, he was grateful for that curiosity that - at the very least - distracted him from the worry that plagued him.

It was only when the car stopped and he followed her out of the vehicle did the man look up to regard where it was exactly that she had brought him. Unless the Council worked out of a coffee shop, he found there was very little to prevent him from going inside the Inner Sanctum, and as such he allowed himself to follow her through the crowd and up to the second floor. William offered her a pointed look at the command to stop and wait. Despite everything, he found himself not wanting to be away from the Duchess. She was so rapidly proving to him that her word was true, and though he wouldn't admit it, she was gaining his trust. Still, he did as he was told, moving to lean against the wall as he strained to hear the words the Duchess offered whoever was inside. Alex, she called him, and it was in a tone that was decidedly more... intimate. It was the Russian words that followed that had him frowning. How he wished he could understand whatever it was she was instructing the other man.

It was only at her prompting did he peel himself off the wall and into that den, his eyes falling on the duo. Alexander looked to be an ordinary enough man, though William's instincts so readily knew exactly what he was. It was the introduction that the Grand Duchess provided that had the man's jaw dropping in an entirely shocked fashion. "Anastasia... I..." He started before his attention flicked back to the older man that stood before him. "Impressed?" He sputtered. With brows furrowed, he crossed his arms across his chest as the man continued to belittle him. "And how many people would gain your respect? How many innocent lives should I have taken before it would make a difference in your eyes, Alexander?" His voice sounded much like a dejected child, and yet he couldn't understand why the man's words hurt him anyway. He didn't want respect for those murders.

The Russian lyrics that the man offered next had the Hunter scowling as he continued to seethe about the so blatant dismissal that the man offered him. It was after the attention was brought instead to the bloody bracelet within his hands. "I'm glad I came all the bloody way across town and you'll have bugger all to do with me." He sounded like a child. He didn't even want the bastard's attention or help, and yet the Duke hardly cared to be ignored so entirely. "It's hardly that I'm Jack the Ripper that has the Council so concerned about me. It's my power. I can create blades that can cut through absolutely anything." He sighed when he said the words. It would have been such an entirely useful power, and yet the combination of that and his inability to control it at all had the Council determined to keep him.

But darling -- it's only human nature.