I always thought my family was a little strange, but I didn't know what strange was until I was told of my birthright. A fourth generation squire who thought I'd seen it all and lived it to boot.

Willing and able to help any and all Hunters that come through the Big Apple, I can run down a crowded street holding a bag of bagels two cups of coffee in four inch heels and not break a sweat and I can hail a cab with a flick of my wrist - what can I say? The guys love it. I suppose it helps that I know where all the good restaurants are (I've learned to keep a Hunter happy you need to keep him well fed) and as a promotor and publicist I make it my job to keep an eye on the club scene. You can never be too wary of any new Daimons hitting the clubs looking for a quick bite.

I have a soft spot for tough men with a heart of gold and I may not take an order without delivering some sass of my own (someone has to keep the guys on their toes) so far, no one has been able to get the better of this New Yorker - but hey I'll take on anyone the council wants to send my way.