Putting down hooks!
The rest of lunch passed easily enough, although there was an unfortunate moment when Morgan found out that the ‘Council’ was, in fact, the damnable Historic Sites Council from before the apocalypse. How exactly it ended up formally running Red Bank — and how it got taken over by vampires — was apparently a slightly awkward story to tell outsiders. The guards didn’t seem too worried about talking about the Council now, though.
“Mostly they’re politicians,” said Aaron.
“You mean assholes,” said Preet.
“Lemme split the difference,” said Carlos. “They’re asshole politicians.” He drank some more beer. “But they do all right,” he went on. “Lot of scheming, but we do that. They just scheme with each other and leave the rest of us alone.”
“Okay,” said Morgan. “Hey, stupid question, Carlos? Isn’t it dangerous for you to be out during the day?”
“Sure,” said Carlos. “I gotta wear sunblock and keep covered. I ain’t gonna catch on fire if I take off the helmet outside, though. It’s more like I got that thing people used to catch? Albumism? No, that’s not right.”
“Albinism,” said Preet.
Carlos snapped his fingers. “Yeah, that’s the name. I don’t make that crap in my skin you guys do.” He smiled, which was a little disconcerting even though it was cheerful enough. “Pay on the Day Watch’s good, though. They wanna make sure there’s enough vamps available to cover all the shifts. But, hell, it’s usually quiet. I lived in Atlantic City before everything went belly-up, you know? Nothing ever happens here, and that’s just great.”