While Sallie explained the customs of a certain Mr. Wilde, Apollo sat his cheek to rest on Sebak's shoulder, leg swinging side to side as it hung off of one of the man's knees. He still was all arms, Sebak a prisoner in Apollo's signature hold, loose and intimate. He really could feel the warmth, and nothing was better than a heater with a pretty face, not to mention the Egyptian's foreign flair was enough to start the Toreador's cold, Italian heart all over again. "Be as crude and filthy as you like, dear! You're forgetting this is the boudoir of Apollonio da Roma!  This darling thing would be shaking in his loafers if he knew all the nasty, daring things that take place where he sits." Teasingly, he raised a hand to pinch Sebak's cheek, making an exaggerating kissing face at him before turning to Sallie again. "So! The Malkavian thrall likes men, I should be an easy buy then don't you think? Even if he was all lace and feathers like me-- well, I certainly know I would sleep with myself if I could!"<br/><br/>Apollo offered a laugh, making casual light out of such crass fantasies. "If this man's already defiled the building with sweat and blood then surely our darling Voss won't mind little ol' me having a bit of fun, would he? I'd hate to be a bother, he's such a sweetheart." The Toreador could feel himself getting all woozy over the thought, looking outright lovestruck.<br/><br/>"By the way.. if you must know how I know that fellow is certainly one strange Malkavian, he made quite the fuss some time ago after I arrived. Surely such a smart, well cultured lady as yourself knows that the Prince is a new addition to Chicago, before that it was run mostly by such unfavorable types-- and I don't mean like yourselves and those of Rainer's stock, more like monsters. Sabbat, of course." Despite their privacy, Apollo was still whispering as if the gossip was so controversial, just loud enough for Sallie to hear. "Well, he was a fledgling if I remember right, can't say I know how long he was around, but his sire was killed without trial, final death! And it was that Malkavian who turned him in. Never saw the sire, you know how they handle those things, very out of sight, out of mind. But it was the talk of the town for a good while. He looks the part, if it isn't a touch of that crazy, don't know how those types work. They're like bastard children, he's lame like a bad horse, blood all backwards. Hear it happens to the Brujah to-- but anyway!" Apollo shook his head and pushed himself back on topic. "Looks the part, all lost, you know? Sticks close to the prince, but I can understand if someone like that's untrustworthy, you never know when they'll pop."<br/><br/>Leaning back out of the gossip, he had a smile on his face, head back on Sebak's shoulder. "Malkavians have no interest in me, and he isn't my type anyway. But I get all the names of our guests anyway! So it shouldn't be any trouble to pull one up for you when the night comes. Or if Rainer shows up, I'll see you there again Sallie?"<br/><br/>--<br/><br/>MacClery looked back at Loretta with an appreciative nod when he heard of her hospitality, which was significant enough to bring her some real excitement, despite being such a small gesture. If her head wasn't such a mess of thoughts, she'd be beaming with pride.<br/><br/>"That I'd probably be resting." He slowly sauntered lazily to Wilde before he got a hand on the door. "So you've been doing your research. That's productive of you. I was actually wondering if since you're here, if you'd like to meet your real clients, my clients. You are.. my ghoul, after all, and this is strictly business so of course you wouldn't mind the trip, would you?" To be fair, it was a spur of the moment thing, but the Nosferatu were getting especially anxious lately, and MacClery hated to keep them waiting. Perhaps if Wilde was more personal with the job he was half willingly roped into, it would make things run smoother. "Surely if you've been reading you've figured out that this is the most important job of your life... And I might speak more on the way there." There was an odd look of sincereity in his eyes, though uncanny compared to the facade he put on the first night. The man had fed twice, and despite a still rocky transition, over the organizing and the sorting and the hallucinations of the night prior, MacClery had entertained the idea of being more forthcoming with his own plans. Not only was it fair, but a part of him felt that Wilde deserved to know where the world was heading, as he himself was robbed of that luxury many years ago.