<div style="text-align: center">“Fuck,” he groaned once she had left his office, the door clicking shut behind her. Closing his eyes, Pace pressed his forehead against the wood and half grinned, half grimaced. His more primal nature had gotten its way. Again. It was still letting him know, even now after she had gone, reacting to the lingering scent of sex and her own female scent left behind in the small space. His pulse rushed and his cock pulsed in his pants, enough that he reached down to adjust himself or else tent up against his jeans. Instinct demanded he whip the door open and drag her upstairs to the room that he stayed in and keep her there until…<br/>
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Well, just keep her there until they were both sated. So. At least several hundred years.<br/>
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With his face still a mask, he waited until he knew she had gone from the premise before he opened the door, stepping back out into the fray at the Crossroads. Whisking himself behind the bar, he grunted at his bartender as he poured himself a drink. The scotch he threw back with one hit, then cast his stare down at the diminutive red head that stared up at him knowingly. Though despite her porcelain features and flamed hair, her face was all angles, suggesting an Asian heritage.<br/>
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Japanese to be exact.<br/>
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“What?”<br/>
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The woman’s amber lit eyes crinkled at the corners as she grinned, looking away from him and instead moved to fix another drink. “Nothing. You smell like sex. It’s musky, though. Like when you get when things get… possessive.”<br/>
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Pace ignored the woman’s knowing little grin and turned away, eyes raking the hustle and bustle within the Sanctuary. Poured himself another drink and downed that one as well. “Why did I let you work here again?”<br/>
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The red head only smiled, moving further down the bar. If one looked closely enough, the vulpine qualities could be seen traced along the line of her jaw, the ears poking from her hair line, even a bushy tail from underneath her skirt. But only at a glance. To anyone else, she just looked like any other young, mortal woman. “Do you want me to call one of your usual playmates to tire the beast out?”<br/>
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So casual. Pace closed his eyes, the grin turning edgy. “....No, thank you, Kit. I’ve got this.” <br/>
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The woman rolled her eyes, pursed her lips, and meandered down to the opposite end of the bar where a busty brunette was seated in a short skirt and low crop top, long nails tapping on the counter. Just her type with that red, red mouth pursing into a little pout when the red head bounced on over with a salacious smile. Rolling his eyes, Pace refilled his glass once more and left the bar to disappear upstairs, presumably to burn off some of the pent up heat left behind by his … new hire? What was Nora, if not that?<br/>
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~~~​</div><br/><br/>The next night he closed the doors of The Corner Bar to all but her, at least for as long as he could hold time in place for the next several hours. This was a Sanctuary, after all, and it was selfish if he had closed shop for his own reasons. Being as much of a monster as he was, he could at least take liberties with time, even if the witch didn’t know it. Plus, it had changed since the last time she had seen it -- last night. The ambiance was dark, with only filtered blue light playing on dark mahogany tables and plush carpet. The smell of cigar and brandy, oil and wax, old leather and wood set the mood as well as the sound of a piano playing from where she headed to the back. Instead of an office, however, there was a dance floor, lit, from what it seemed, by starlight that twinkled on the floor. A baby grand was situated in one corner, a long bar in the other. The dulcet tones of Sinatra played itself along the keys while Frank’s voice moaned through the room.<br/><br/><br/>Luck be a lady tonight… luck let a gentleman see…<br/><br/><br/>“Boo,” came the voice in her ear as she knocked on what was now a closet door. He held the laughter in the back of his throat, but couldn’t hide the way he smiled when he drew up and back away from Nora, taking in her appearance from behind. Pace himself had gone the extra mile, with dark hair slicked back and a dark stubble shadowing his jaw. One stray strand fell over his brow, stubbornly curling there.<br/><br/><br/>The three piece suit and wingtip shoes on his feet didn’t hurt the appearance of casual sophistication, especially since, with his height and length, it was tailored to fit over the pair of broad shoulders and chest that tapered into a trim waist. Not that Pace was bulky by any means; he more resembled a lean predator - like a jackal - than a gorilla. He fixed adjusted his tie, striped navy against the charcoal grey of the suit, grinning boyishly.<br/><br/><br/>“Don’t you look ravishing?” The quicksilver eyes twinkled. “I hope you’re in the mood for Chinese tonight, Nora, because we’re going to Hong Kong. Do you gamble at all?”