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He wanted to say 'what good is a former Disciple to me?', but that seemed cruel, so he only shrugged his shoulders again, and gave his head a small shake. "You think very highly of yourself, don't you?"

Despite the slowness with which he smoked his cigar, it was nearly finished, the ash of which had been slowly sifting onto the table this entire time. For some reason, nobody ever bothered to offer him an ashtray. He suspected they didn't actually have any, and that he wasn't actually supposed to be smoking inside the establishment, but that they were too wary of him to say so.

"Nobody mentioned it. They tend to avoid talking to me altogether if they can."

He waited for Malkav's reply to his question, an eyebrow-raising. "Taken? Most might call having their curse removed a cure, but you did not want that?" He asked though he was aware that his questions might be on the verge of becoming too intrusive.

Finally, he scoffed a laugh. "Ah yes, how awful for you. I suppose you will not have to worry about it for long though. A better curse may come along for you yet."

A moment's pause while he mulled something over. Talk of curses had gotten him thinking. He knew his father had removed curses for many Disciples who had wished for it, but Malkav clearly had not wanted his to be removed. Couple that with him being a former Disciple, and Kieran was beginning to feel suspicious.

He could not argue that Malkav was old. If he was the same age as his father, Ravnos, or even close to it, then Kieran knew that he had been around for a very, very long time, and certainly would have gotten to do and see a great many things. A part of him wished that he could say that he was also that old, that he could have experienced all of those same things. His papa always had so many fascinating stories, sometimes of places long forgotten in history.

"Perhaps you can tell me about it sometime." He murmured, though quiet enough that it was almost as if he was thinking out loud.

At the question, he let out a sigh, though it was loud, and obviously meant to be overdramatic. "Alas, yes. My curses. Though I already told you, that is not what I do. I only tell them of their future misfortunes." And then they thought that it was a curse because apparently bad things could not happen unless Kieran somehow made it happen.

After that, he listened, carefully, to what Malkav had to say. Slowly, he was putting together a puzzle that he did not have all of the pieces to. A Disciple, no longer a Disciple, with his very identity torn from him. There was only one or perhaps two people that he could think of that had enough power to do such a thing, and both were very closely related to Kieran.

The implications of such thoughts were...concerning, to say the least. But he also knew that there had to be a reason for it all.

And then Malkav snapped at him, and Kieran blinked, sitting up slightly, though perhaps snapped wasn't quite the right word. He had touched a nerve at least, that much he was certain. It was unexpected and surprising, and for a few moments, he did not know what to say to make it better. He just stared at him, and then, ever so slowly, reached his hand up to remove the cigar from the corner of his mouth, and slowly licked his bottom lip with his tongue, before pulling it in with his teeth, all while he continued to study Malkav's reaction.

"You're right. I would not like that very much. Here." He finally said, holding out the still-smouldering cigar, with enough left for a strong draw or two. "Try this. It might make you feel a little better. At the very least, it might help you feel a little less." He quirked his lips up in a small smile.

"Yes and no." He shrugged his shoulders, and the motion was languid. "The misfortune will arise from the love. But things may be good for a time." He let his gaze roam over Malkav now, slipping away from the darkness of his eyes, following the curve of his mouth, the sharpness of his jaw, raking across his bare chest, lingering on the almost frightening scars that he felt a strong urge to reach out to touch, to trail his fingers along gently, if the former Disciple would let him. He did not hide how he allowed his eyes to move along him, nor could he adequately mask his appreciation for what he saw. Kieran felt something tighten in his chest. Briefly, a desire flared through him, and his mouth felt suddenly quite dry.

Yes. Things may be good if only for a time, and Kieran couldn't help but look forward to that.

A grin slowly overtook his face when Malkav took the offered cigar. The young vampire watched him curiously, then. He could almost pinpoint the moment the ancient began to feel the effects. The tension seemed to leave his body all at once, and Kieran crossed his arms in front of him on the table, leaning forward, the little baubles that ornamented his hair clinking with light chimes in the process.

"You are welcome." He let his voice lower into a dulcet tone and kept his gaze on Malkav's now. There was a hint of bemusement in his own green eyes before he spoke again.

But now it was Kieran's turn to shift uneasily in his chair. It was not as though he could explain why he felt the need to help Malkav. Not without looking completely delusional, or at least that's how he thought he might come across. The former Disciple had already expressed his skepticism over the vision Kieran had foretold, and giving him the last piece of it felt like going too far.

"Ah, I would do it for anybody." He lied. "But if you want to repay me, I could use a drink myself."

Especially now that his cigar was gone.

“Well,” His lips curled up into another lazy smile, “You would certainly be old enough to know, wouldn’t you? I can’t say the same for myself.” No. Kieran had only been on this plane of existence for a short time. Given his power, this knowledge would perhaps be surprising, but that was just a gift of his lineage and one he kept close to his chest most of the time. “I will just have to take your word for it.”

The desire he had felt flare before seemed almost tainted now, edged with the bitter darkness that came from knowledge. But the way Malkav looked at him now, leaning forward with that smirk on his lips, was enough. Kieran felt then that he still wanted it, no matter how brief or heartbreaking it may end up. His gaze was back on the ancient vampires now, and he noted how the hardened edge of that gaze had softened.

Kieran was rolling a thumb along the rings that adorned his fingers now, elbow resting on the table, quiet momentarily as if in deep thought.

“No. I do not control it. Perhaps I will be able to someday. It started when I was just little.” He paused then, briefly, to decide how much about himself he should give away.

The drinks had arrived, and Kieran reached for his, fingers grazing lightly against Malkav’s hand, purposefully fleeting as he pulled the glass back closer to himself where he left it untouched.

“Our papa did not allow my sister or me much contact with those who visited my father's temple, so the visions did not happen often.” He observed Malkav carefully for his reaction at that moment, waiting to see if he could put together anything from that sentence alone.

The flinch stung a bit, a sharp stab that left Kieran second-guessing everything he had seen or felt up until that moment. His emerald gaze lowered, staring down at the drink he now held in front of himself, his grip tightening on the glass, feeling the press of it against his fingertips which still tingled from grazing them against Malkav’s hand. Had he made a mistake? Had his vision lied? He swirled the glass a little, watched as the ice cubes clinked together, and then lifted his gaze just slightly, peeking at the other vampire through a fringe of fiery red hair streaked with dark strands.

There was still a pull there. Kieran felt drawn to him in a way he had never felt for anyone before. He swallowed back a lump of sudden nerves and lifted his drink for a long sip, feeling the breathtaking burn of the alcohol as it hit his tongue and rolled down his throat. He did not often drink, preferring his cigars to hard liquor, but he had given the last of what he had to Malkav.

Silence stretched between them after Kieran spoke again. He could tell that the dark-haired man in front of him was thinking it through, working out what the younger vampire had said, and he waited, taking another long swig of his drink while he did, letting the liquid amber courage warm him and try to chase away his sudden doubts.

“Yes.” He responded, though Malkav hadn’t precisely asked a question. He observed the ancient vampire again, gaze flicking down to the finger that circled the rim of the glass before it flicked back upward again.

The question came, as he thought it might. He tried to ignore that unnervingly dark gaze and tell himself he had nothing to worry about. For his part, he looked a lot calmer than he felt, and he reached up a free hand to stroke at his beard, claws scratching lightly against his cheek before he let the hand drop again.

“Grendel’s.” A short pause. “My father is the God of Vampires.”