Echo let the subject drop then, pushing himself back from the counter with a shake of his head. If there were other ways to deal with an enemy he hadn't learnt of them. Imprisoning an immortal was inefficient; it was only a matter of time before they escaped their confines, be it ten years or one thousand, and the hands of a clock meant little to those who would live forever. Not to mention catching an adversary was rather more exhausting than merely killing them.<br/><br/>'No,<span style="font-style: italic">ma ei usu</span>.' He smiled again, wickedly, as he reached to take up her doll-like hand. '<span style="font-style: italic">Mu kallis väike nõia</span>, you are simply<span style="font-style: italic"> too</span>kind,' he simpered, though the jest lacing his words was blatant beneath the feign of charismatic charm. He leant in to kiss her knuckles with an easy ambiance of well practiced suave, before letting her palm slide from his. 'Try not to torch them.'<br/><br/>He set off down the hall in search of the bathroom, his boots squealing as the mucky tread gripped and sucked at the floorboards and tiles. He didn't bother switching on the light as he entered the sizable room, nor did he bother locking the door. He was quite sure Seria was perfectly capable of unlocking it if she desired to do so, though he was almost positive that she would not.<br/><br/>He wasn't entirely sure if that notion was a comfort or a disappointment.<br/><br/>He stripped quickly, peeling off his rather resistant blood-soaked shirt. The torn fabric had adhered itself to the gashes over his back, and he snarled at the sting induced by his tugging them apart. It too seemed to be beyond repair, though the grey garment was not in the least bit important to him. He discarded of it, throwing it carelessly into the corner, where it slapped wetly against the tiles. His boots were tossed down the laundry chute with a twin set of heavy thuds, and his trousers slithered down in their wake.<br/><br/>The shower embedded into one corner of the room, made up of panels of distorted glass he found to be large and spacious. He didn't concern himself with temperature, spinning only the blue-buttoned knob, and stepped into spray jetting from the shower head, allowing the caress of cool, plummeting water to sooth his abused skin. (It was one thing about his vampire blood that was indeed a blessing, that the cold did not concern him – he could sit naked in a blizzard for a century and he would not feel it's bite). The base of the shower ran scarlet with blood as the stream of water dribbled over his body, washing away the remaining debris of the nights events. His hair had been mattered to resemble the texture of an unwashed paintbrush, and he took up Seria's floral-scented shampoo and dolloped it into his palm, with which he began scrubbing his disheveled mane of bay tresses clean, prompting another onslaught of scum towards to drain.<br/><br/>Half an hour later, Echo shut off the water and stepped out of the cubicle, adequately clean and smelling like a florists shop. He snatched a towel from where it was draped readily over a rack and proceeded to dry himself, before wrapping the over-sized piece of cloth securely about his waste. He found a spare toothbrush still wrapped within it's packaging in the top draw of the bathroom vanity, with which Echo then proceeded to spend the next four and a half minutes scrubbing his teeth clean of the grimy scarlet stains beginning to set in. A Vampire's fangs were their pride and joy, rather like it was with human men and their cocks. The larger they were, the deeper they punctured, the more blood they spilled, the healthier and happier the Vampire (although there was always the argument of 'it's not how big they are, it's how you use them' from what were commonly known as Pin Heads). Echo being less than Vampire hadn't enfeebled his inheritance of Diomedes' rather impressive set of choppers, and - although his status as part-blood scum depreciated such a trait from any extent of notability – he still maintained some dignity in thwarting his smile from going foul. Not to mention he positively delighted in grinning excessively if ever he bumped into a Pin-Headed foe.