"You  should sleep soon, you know." The old kindred sat cross legged in his armchair, two stacks of books beside him. It had been many years since he last cleaned through his library, many of these books were untouched, others read countless times to sate his eternal boredom. Instead of rushing to bed, Loretta splayed arms across the back of the chair, looming over him, staring whichever way between the sides of his head and the pages. Times were at their most calm when it was just them in that house at night, without the terrors of MacClery's rest to dread and the frightful squabbling of other ghouls. At times men from the Camarilla would visit and rob her regnant of time best spent not working. She'd always wanted a peaceful life such as this, without a family to slave over a stove for, babies to dress.<br/><br/>The hurried steps of Bailey as he entered the room caused her to stand up, hands clasped together, at attention of which MacClery seemed to ignore. He waved the both of them off like before, Loretta silently pushing past Bailey to go answer. In her absence the boy only got a stern "Run on then, I pay you next evening..." Shutting a book, he brushed a thumb over the binding, "in full."<br/><br/>Shaky hands pried at the locks on the door, slowly opening it, but the one she saw she knew enough was no kindred. Did Andy say he was expecting someone? He often did on nights he stayed home, but rarely spoke of his personal meetings with her as much as she so craved it. "Please, come in, yes. Come in, come in." She mumbled, the man seemed out of breath, and less predictable than the stone faced men of the masquerade that often pried at MacClery with business deals and occasional check-ups.<br/><br/>MacClery was standing in his foyer now, not far from the door. It was an old house for sure, for anyone but him. Despite being clean, everything from the furniture to the wallpaper were remarkably ancient in fashion, as if the place had stagnated for a century or more. If anything, he was afraid of changing it. Even now, there was a room of the house he'd locked off permanently, forbiding entry by even Bailey's cleaning regime...<br/><br/>As his wonderful guest entered, MacClery set some more books back on the newly dusted shelves, a pile sorted off to the side to be hauled off to storage, or sold, whatever Loretta wished to do with them. They weren't his problem anymore as he saw it. The man stood clad in formal wear, replacing the usual overcoat was a dark, velvet robe. Perhaps the only other things that would make the scene more warm and comforting would be a couple glasses of liquor and a lit fireplace, but MacClery would have the head of anyone who suggested either under his own roof.<br/><br/>"Did you find a ride...? Or did you really run all this way?" He gave the man a scowl, less worried and more perplexed. There was no need to put on such a soft-hearted visage, but some hospitality was still a point of pride, especially so for a Malkavian trying to hold on to his humanity. "Not the worst thing you could've done. Just like I said, we know where to find each other, either was bound to happen eventually."