As they went, Gyrus was still thinking of what Zemma had written on his photo. Not just digits, her phone number, but a date, as good as. He was wondering when the hammer would fall, people like him didn't get that lucky. Especially with a girl as nice, and as sensual as Zemma. He'd have expected someone as famous as her to have be far less open, a survival characteristic when you were surrounded by hangers on who would want to get close to you purely for the reflected glory.<br/><br/>Maybe it was just this setting, where she was certain she was away from her groupies, where she could let her tail down, so to speak. There seemed to be a bit of narcissism in some of her statements, but it was innocent enough, not ego so much as the result of being someone who accepted who she was and loved it. He made a mental vow to see she got the best time he could give her.<br/><br/>Having reached the kitchen, it was obvious caterers had been, and would probably be coming back later to pick up their stuff. Spare plates of snacks and party food were laid out, aklong with catering packs of garlic butter, and various catering bottles of sauces. The kitchen itself was in keeping with the mansion, capable of providing for a banquet. Gyrus gave Zemma the vial, and went over to lock the door.<br/><br/>"I think it'll be batter if you get undressed again." He said, then continued hastily, "Otherwise it'll ruin your dress I mean, not that seeing you without clothes isn't worthwhile in it's own right..." He finally gave up. "Shutting up now."<br/><br/>He found two of the biggest serving platters, great round things over a metre across, and set one on the floor. "Step on this, and I'll do the rest."