Ah, Agad the Imperishable," Bouchard greets you. "Do let your sire know that my backing of her methods was not intended to be gauche. I just genuinely cannot stand Ms. Grey, and hatred runs deep in one as old as I am." He's still wearing the mask of a middle-aged mortal over his grotesque features. "It seems that Qui is enjoying his little display. Grandstanding in front of the Primogen Council as if any of us couldn't wipe the floor with him single-handed."
Bah," Bouchard grunts. "You're damn right it's not about him. Arundel would set him straight if he were here, but now everyone he's appointed has their heads swollen with delusions of grandeur." He motions you over to a table away from the exit and you sit beside him. "I noticed you looking at my mask. I was hoping to display some civility at such an unusual gathering, but leave it to Alisha to attack me for trying to be polite. My face is made for the sewers—that and scaring the hell out of anyone who crosses me before I kill them. Does it do me a disservice? My talents don't lend themselves to this high-society nonsense."
Able to see the mask closer now, you can tell it's extremely finely painted with an eye for detail. Delicate and stately—a masterwork—and one of a kind. But does that mean he should be wearing it to a meeting of powerful Kindred?