He rested there, his mind left to wander.  Before, he could’ve occupied it with the activities of his garden in the next room over.  His most inner rooms were forbidden to them, for their own safety as much as his own, but he had made space for them before the most secured area.  They would’ve been having some debate right then, some drinking coffee, others more into wine or cocktails.  This latest bloom he’d gathered to him were bright, mostly college students with promise.  There had been brilliant minds amongst them.  Now, those who might’ve survived were scattered to the wind, in hiding.  If there was a survivor out there, they had not yet returned to the club, and it was likely they never would.<br/><br/>The lawyer responsible for letting that monster run free…  His scent had not been unpleasant.  Most human filth had a dirty sort of scent to them, even if they were well manicured and wore expensive cologne, he could still pick it out.  Dorian had smelled pleasant and delicious.  Was he so deep in his own deceptive appearance as a decent human that even his body hid his evils from the world?  It was an interesting thought, and it made him look forward to the first taste to see how it translated through his blood.  Would he be sweet?  Would he be tangy and rich, like a proper villain?<br/><br/>His phone rang.<br/><br/>“Yes, Matthew,” he spoke into the receiver to the soft voice on the other end.  “Thank you.”<br/><br/>So Dorian had made his way there to his original club, as expected.  The vampire moved from his bed, only to stop before a series of wardrobes.  He had plenty of clothes, though not all of them were appropriate for just any situation.  He took a moment to choose the right thing, settling on a more casual outfit.  Tight, black leather always spoke to him, so he settled on that and a dark blue silk shirt, which was left open at the top.  His pale skin stood out against the colours even more, but he had always thought the contrast was nice.<br/><br/>He headed up to the club, never bothering to find acceptable footwear.  The VIP section was beautifully carpeted, and he liked the feel of it under his bare feet.<br/><br/>“Mr. Michaelson,” he greeted as he stepped into the private area.  Kade seemed comfortable there, but then this was his home.  He had never hunted there, and while he might’ve been given sacrifices underground, the patrons of Karmosinröd were safe from his hungers.  “I’m glad you were able to come.”  Kade sank down across from the man on a plush sofa, one leg elegantly folding over the other.  Despite the clothing choice, he was still poised, the image of refinement.<br/><br/>The same young man who had escorted Dorian came to see to what Kade wanted, but he waved him off and uttered a soft<i>Kiitos</i>.  The only thing he thirsted for right then was a taste of Dorian.  With time and patience, he would have it.<br/><br/>“I assume you spoke with Jacob.  Your presence here, I hope, means that you accept the case.  If that is the case, I will transfer your fee into whatever account you wish,” he offered.  “I have a feeling there might be paperwork involved?”  He was sure there was, but he had already scanned the man and found no briefcase or file folder.  There was a faint hint of something in Dorian’s jacket, though.