Days like today were the kinds of days when Molly didn't really know whether she was going or coming. There was, as usual, a ton of business to attend to, along with the joys of being Sire to a new Childer with a serious Brujah attitude. She adored Jett. She really did, but the truth was that she very simply was learning as she went how to be a Sire to a Brujah Childer. She was nearly 300 years old and had never Embraced anyone before Jett, if only because her life had always been such that she thought that adding a Childer in the mix would be too much. She was hardly footloose and fancy free as Primogen of her Clan, but the responsibilities of that didn't allow for too much free time. Still, when she'd first heard of Jett's heroic actions in saving one of his comrades in the line of duty, it had left no doubt in her mind that she needed to find this kid. And when he'd been injured himself beyond the ability to live a normal life, there was no doubt in Molly's mind. She never would've taken him against his will, but she couldn't let someone with that much inner strength suffer without at least giving him the knowledge and the option to change it.

Molly was always very aware of what was going on around her -- it was a Kindred trait, one that was especially well honed when her lover was the Prince of the City. She had to know her surroundings. So she saw the young man smoking close to the Knightshead building. She was on the prowl for a feed, but something told her that this kid was looking for her, and when he stepped out in front of her, that was that question answered quickly. The accent was unmistakable, and she crossed her arms over her chest, taking in the young man's attire with a tired huff. She was hungry, and not really in the mood for a confrontation with a mortal tonight, but he seemed very fucking serious about this, and she wasn't going to just blow him off. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about, darling. Are you sure I'm who you're looking for?"