<div style="
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/*NAME*/
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font-size: 12px;"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#fff3bf">"Tour went well, sir?"</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#f7dc6f">"Fantastically, Frederick,"</span> he beams as he slips into the backseat of his Bentley, allowing the hotel's bellhops to shove his bags into the trunk. He's exhausted — but it's a good kind of tired. The successful, I-just-finished-touring-the-world-to-be-worshipped-by-adoring-fans type of tired. His reflection in the rearview mirror of the vehicle, though, doesn't <i>look</i> all that tired. Good, his skincare regiment is working perfectly.<br/>
<br/>
The vehicle's clock reads 3:52 a.m., which seems about right for how dark it is outside. Poor Frederick had to wake up in the middle of the night just to pick him up. He's getting up in years; he could probably use the sleep. But this isn't the first time Isiah has required his services at such a late hour, and it will certainly not be his last. He'd like to blame his vampirism, but it's honestly mostly just because he's Isiah Fisher. If Frederick really hated it, though, he could just quit.<br/>
<br/>
Besides, it's not his fault his flight ran late. The plane was initially meant to land in Black City at 8 p.m. but was delayed due to bad weather and thus arrived at about 10 p.m. instead. He hadn't been able to get much sleep on the plane despite the comfort of first-class seats, so he'd been aching for some rest. He'd hailed a taxi and headed to the nearest highly-rated hotel, slept for a handful of hours, and then rang his driver over and over until he'd roused the man from his own sleep.<br/>
<br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#f7dc6f">"I'm going to assume the house is still perfectly intact? Soos didn't manage to blow it up while I was gone, did he?"</span> The question is primarily just for the sake of conversation — obviously, the maid would have alerted him if she'd seen anything amiss during his absence.<br/>
<br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#fff3bf">"Everything is as you left it."</span><br/>
<br/>
He hums appreciatively, flopping down on the backseats with a contented sigh. Goodness, just the car's vibrations could lull him to sleep. The bellhops must have finished their job because he can feel the car moving now in earnest as Frederick pulls away toward the road. Pulling out his phone, he finally takes a look at all of the messages he hadn't bothered to look at when he'd first landed. He shoots Soos a quick text to alert him that he'll be home in an hour or so, adding a brief minor threat that he better not have destroyed anything. It's unlikely the man is up at this late hour, but he wouldn't put it past him to still be awake, either. He's only known the man for less than a month now, but considering they'd met when he'd found Soos inside a dumpster, well... it was immediately apparent that he didn't always make the best life decisions. And that assumption held up over time.<br/>
<br/>
Cordelia might very well be up, though. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#f7dc6f">Hello, my darling ~ Flight ran late, but I'm driving home now. Are you busy later this evening?</span><br/>
<br/>
He moves down his list, sending similar messages to his friends, as well as a quick note of arrival to Orion, his boss. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#f7dc6f">I can be back to work on Saturday if that works for you. Still need to sleep off this jet lag. Kay, thanks, love ya!</span> And he does. As much as any employee can love their boss, anyhow. Isiah doesn't need the money he makes at <i>The Lotus</i>, given that he already makes as much as he needs from his concerts and royalties on the few songs he has written in his lifetime. It's more to give him something productive to do and an excuse to hang out in a casino that doesn't make him look like an alcoholic gambler. Orion has been extremely lax in scheduling and pretty much allows him to come and go as he pleases as long as he's there when most needed. The benefits of being a high-demand pianist. He's just glad that Orion respects him like that. Unlike certain <i>other</i> bosses that he has had.<br/>
<br/>
His fingers hover over Vince's name, a smile tugging at his lips without his permission. Should he tell him that he's back? Hit him with that 'guess what, asshole?' Or should he just show up at <i>Dionysus</i> unannounced? Or...<br/>
<br/>
He presses the phone against his mouth to hide his wicked grin, the glass cool and smooth against his snickering lips, and contemplates if this is really the move he wants to make. Yes. Yes, it is. Before he can think too hard about it, he dials the number. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#f7dc6f">"Hello, police?"</span><br/>
<br/>
<div style="text-align: center"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#f7dc6f"><i class="fa fa-coffin"></i> <i class="fa fa-coffin"></i> <i class="fa fa-coffin"></i> <i class="fa fa-coffin"></i></span>​</div><br/>
At one in the afternoon, consciousness comes to him gradually like a tide lapping at the shore. He feels much more energized than he did hours before, but that might be because of the sun as well as the sleep. Unlike most vampires, Isiah doesn't feel as sluggish during the day, and he gets a particular zap of energy around this time when the sun is bright. That is, of course, because he isn't <i>just</i> a vampire. Not that anyone needs to know that. He can't even imagine the horrors he'd have to experience if anyone noticed his insensitivity.<br/>
<br/>
But now, since he's alone, he allows himself to enjoy the heat and light coming in through his white, sheer bedroom curtains. He stretches lazily like a cat, the silk of his champagne robe barely covering his modesty as it flows around his shifting legs like water. He has no responsibilities to deal with today, so he could very well just stay in bed if he wanted. But no, his friends likely want to see him. He should definitely at least stop by <i>Dionysus</i>.<br/>
<br/>
Speaking of the club, how's Vince holding up? He doesn't expect him to be in any real trouble — he's much too clever for that. Sending the police to his place on a tip is just a way to inconvenience him for a while. Has he sent them on their way yet? Is he angry? His face probably got all red. It does that. How he hasn't dropped from a heart attack yet, the world may never know.<br/>
<br/>
He rolls over, snatching his phone from the nightstand to send the man a quick text. He never did send him a notice that he was back, after all. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#f7dc6f">Just got back — did you miss me? ;)</span> he sends, along with a flattering selfie that took him way more attempts than he'd care to admit. There. Vince has no proof that he was the one who called the cops.<br/>
<br/>
Now he can actually start his day.<br/>
<br/>
<div style="text-align: center"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#f7dc6f"><i class="fa fa-coffin"></i> <i class="fa fa-coffin"></i> <i class="fa fa-coffin"></i> <i class="fa fa-coffin"></i></span>​</div><br/>
Of <i>course</i> it would rain the day he gets back. Of course. During his bath, he'd heard that familiar sound of drizzling, and the sound had only increased in volume as he went about his time-consuming morning routine. He'd been so looking forward to a night on the town, but that seems unlikely to happen now. The rain doesn't let up until around five, so he might as well eat dinner here, right?<br/>
<br/>
He winds up cooking up a basic dinner of steak and potatoes, making sure to keep the steak on the rarer side for both his and Soos's sake. Especially for Soos, as the man struggles to ingest any blood that isn't either presentable like this or entirely hidden within a smoothie. Irresponsible, indeed.<br/>
<br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#f7dc6f">"SOOS! I MADE DINNER!"</span> he shouts when he's finally done around 5:30, hoping that the man will hear him from wherever he is in the mansion. He moves to the kitchen island to eat, feeling utterly silly for being dressed in one of his nicest suits while stuck inside. He should have kept the robe on for comfort's sake.</div><div style="
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color: black;"><abbr class="bbc-abbr" data-trigger="hover focus touchclick" data-xf-init="tooltip" role="button" tabindex="0" title="HOTEL → HOME • BLACK CITY">LOCATION</abbr> | <abbr class="bbc-abbr" data-trigger="hover focus touchclick" data-xf-init="tooltip" role="button" tabindex="0" title="BASICALLY EVERYONE HE KNOWS VIA TEXT">INTERACTIONS</abbr> | <abbr class="bbc-abbr" data-trigger="hover focus touchclick" data-xf-init="tooltip" role="button" tabindex="0" title="N/A">MENTIONS</abbr></div></div><div style=" margin: auto; margin-top: 5px; height: 10px; max-width: 100%; text-align: center; font-size: 8px;">Code by Jenamos</div>