Alisha's herd of blood dolls spend most of their nights working for a high-end escort service unimaginatively branded "Ladies of the Night." Out-calls are the norm, but they do provide special in-house services for particularly wealthy or well-connected clientele—and Kindred. An immaculately dressed woman in an almost otherworldly form-fitting red dress answers the door a full second before you intend to knock.
"Mr. Agad the Imperishable, I presume?" she says in a sultry voice that probably goes over well with mortal clients.
"Yes," you say, falteringly. You haven't been to the building in years, and you're quite certain that you've never met this woman in the long nights since your Embrace. "Do I know you?"
"I don't believe we've had the pleasure." The woman extends her hand delicately. "Abagail. Pleased to meet you. The Mistress insists that her hostesses know to welcome her personal associates. Please come in out of the cold; you must be freezing." You're not sure the Prince would approve of Alisha giving her help the names of high profile Kindred, although you suppose she would need some way of identifying who is who to avoid a disastrous mix-up. The Masquerade can be surprisingly flexible depending on who's doing the flexing.
You follow the woman inside and she closes the door behind you. The decor doesn't exactly suggest "escort service" more than it does a luxury hotel. A small fountain bubbles in the center of a wide lobby flanked by twin carved mahogany columns supporting the weight of a majestic interior balcony overlooking the room. Beautiful women and equally gorgeous men congregate with two well-dressed clients above.
"So. How can we help you this evening?" Abagail asks.