Cazimir Heskel
Brothel, The Underground
Cazimir put the watch back into his pocket, looking back at the commotion. Oh... its Artimeties. Making the girls swoon once more with his heroic antics. He walked out, confidence in his stance as he watched the guy get beaten up. That's to be expected though, who the hell comes here without no money? Only a fool would. As he approached the brute, a few girls stared at him apprehensively. He couldn't help but wink at them suggestively, which made them blush like schoolgirls. He often found that entertaining. He caught the eyes of a few girls he had bedded as well, some smiled at him seductively, others shifted their gaze uneasily.
He didn't really care.
When he saw the brute's face, he raised an eyebrow. It was one of his students. The guy made a nervous gulp, as he saw the look in his mentor's eyes, cold like the sword of ice that he was drawing from his scabbard. He raised it and aimed at the brute's throat, as he felt the freezing sensation whispering against his skin. Cazimir made an irritated smile. "What was your name? Marcus? Or was it Matt? I cannot honestly remember, but I remember your face." the smile faded, leaving an emotionless, dark look on his visage. "What are you doing here, fooling around with not a copper in your name, disgracing my image..." his hand tightened on his sword. "Give me a reason why I shouldn't behead you right now."
The brute tried to speak, but he wasn't able to as Cazimir cut him off, looking back at Dante and Arty with an apologetic smile, never leaving his sword on his student's throat. "I'm sorry. You just can't get nice, capable apprentices these days. Pisses me off." he laughed.