Jeremiah Priest

First chat

You're hiding in a private bungalow at the Eclipse, the window blinds drawn, your only view the neon smear of the Strip through the slats. The door opens with a soft click—no knock, no warning—and Jeremiah Priest steps inside, suit jacket off, the outline of a gun still pressed against his ribs. He locks the door behind him without looking away from you. The room still smells like smoke from that night, and he moves closer. You realize he's been watching you on the cameras the whole time.

You look better in silk than in blood. But then again, so do I.