7/21/15I have made an error in calculations. See, I thought she was useless… Harmless… Clearly, this is one of those rare fuckin’ occasions where even I was wrong. The last thing I remember I was havin’ a smoke, waitin’ on Mekere fer a night on the town. The next thing I know I’m wakin’ up in some fuck’s basement with nothin’ but me clothes and some near useless odds n’ ends. Obviously, me situation was not one that I relish experiencing, so me first order o’ business was ta get the fuck out. The door gave me a little trouble, but it was nothing a Nocker couldn’t fix with some “knocking”. Once free of the basement, that’s when I saw ’em. It was Aeslyn and that wide-legged loony from the nuthouse, only… Different. All wrong. The satyr was unsettling enough when I realized I was considerin’ shearin’ those legs o’ hers fer a good go at her lambchops, but the sidhe? Until now, she had been the bloody poster-child fer a participant’s trophy; pretty and worthless. Now, she oozes power and glamour from every perfect damned pore. I thought I hated sidhe before, but this woman had a way of makin’ me dance ta her words all the sudden that didnae sit well with me at all… No, that got right under me skin. After a few half-arsed escape attempts from this house-o-borin’ we were squattin’ in, I met a fella made entirely out o’ shadow. Lambchop, however, met a little girl who got the drop on her with a blade. Once I figured out the key ta dealin’ with Mr. Black, (I did and don’t let that fuckin’ rabbit-eared shithead tell ye different!), I did the whole heroic act and rescued the satyr from the Basement o’ Stabs. That’s when things escalated. Aeslyn hadn’t had enough o’ her fuckin’ power trip and found a way ta whisk us all ta the trap she’d gotten caught in. One thing led to another, and before ye knew it everybody was covered in bomb-cheese. Yeah, I’d tried ta kill us all, what of it? I don’t care how powerful she looks, now, if ye had ta be the little bitch-boy o’ that twat ye would’ve done the same! Now that we’ve escaped the Shack-o’-Nonsense, we’re guests o’ some countess or other and I’m once again surrounded by fuckin’ sidhe. Fer a pitiable, dying kith there certainly are a lot o’ these shitwits, but ta say I’m uncomfortable here would be one helluvan understatement. At least I finally get ta calm down and take stock o’ where I am and what I’m doin’, away from Aeslyn’s fuckin’ voice. Clearly, I can’t let her get away with treatin’ me like a toy, a fuckin’ plaything. However, now that she’s not so useless, perhaps there’s some way I can turn this bitch ta me advantage. “Fer every tool, a use” I always say. Ah well, first on the menu is gettin’ me arse back ta Manhattan. I’ve about had it with this Far Dreamin’ shit. Cogs, I can smell that satyr from 2 rooms over… Y’know, I’ve some time ta kill, maybe I could make meself a set o’ shears… Bah, I could check on her, at least.