20120204 Making An Entrance


<NIGHT> La Pomme Rouge: Cabaret Lounge - Cermak Road: Crimson District

Guests of La Pomme Rouge are welcomed to indulge in the soothing comforts of the lush oversized beds surrounding the dance floor or dance the night away to the softer, more sultry side of progressive music mixes- grooves that one can just as easily and contentedly relax to as dance to. The black stone floor of the vestibule stops and dark hardwood takes over the dance floor. Black stone steps lead up to the beds. Champagne-coloured and crimson-coloured sheer, silk curtains are layered to create the illusion of privacy between each downy, red bed. Small tables rest at the foot of each bed with a golden bowl of edible red apples. Overhead, three floors high, the ceiling is ornately carved and painted in rich gold, white, and red. Modern lights make the room glow, the few lights over the dance floor shift in various honey-hued patterns.
The bar is against the wall to the right of the entrance and backed by a golf-framed, six-foot-tall mirror. The mirror's length is equal to the bar. The bar is made of the same dark wood as the floor with a red granite top. Dim lamps are dispersed along the length of the bar-top. Stools are draped in burgandy velvet slipcovers and tied on by silk ropes and tassels.
While this is a restaurant, there are no dining tables with chairs. People are seen carrying small trays of food- the main courses portioned into finger foods. (See +view) There are, however, small tables in front of the beds in this room and more tables dispersed throughout the salons where patrons may relax and nosh on posh nibbles throughout the night's revelry. And, of course, guests are welcome to dine at the bar, too.




The Cabaret Lounge is quite busy this evening, with a mixed crowd dancing, relaxing and generally trying to enjoy themselves. The air carries just a trace of nerves with it - subtle, but obvious enough to those who can read it for what it is. There's a hint of desperation, of people enjoying themselves now because they aren't sure what tomorrow will bring. And on one of the oversized beds lounges Grayson, the tall man making the bed look to be a rather more standard size than it really is.

The door opens and someone enters, posing at the entrance. His hand on either door, his head thrown back, a broad grin on his face, flashing white teeth and fangs in a dark face. He waits for people to notice, before he strolls down the stairs, heading for the bar. "A drink! A drink, to loosen lips, to loosen everything!" His voice is projected, power behind it, making it flutter around the room and he grins broadly again. Every movement is done for effect, for maximum attention and drama.

Grayson glances at the door as it opens; when he sees the poser within, his own grin just as broad and just as fanged. He lifts himself on one elbow, facing Mercutio, and applauds. "Bravo, sir. Bravo!" The white-haired vampire speaks with a crisp English accent, Cambridge-born but not university educated.

Mercutio turns, a movement lacking only a cloak to swirl around himself and offers Grayson a bow that comes directly from the Elizabethian era, flashing a broad grin. "I live to amuse, to bring a smile to the lips of those whose hath hearts that lie heavy in their chests!" He lifts a hand, reaching to take a glass up as the barman puts it down, and strolls towards Grayson.

Grayson rolls to his feet, offering Mercutio a perfectly-matched bow. "Then tarry here and be welcome, sirrah," he replies, sounding amused. Mercutio's getting a few odd looks from the other clientele, though Grayson's now getting some of those looks himself. "Always 'tis better to pass a day in merriment than with a heart of lead."

Mercutio offers Grayson the glass, moving as if they were fencing, a circling movement that lets him move his gaze over the other man. That gaze is done deliberately, before he replies, "'Tis better to live a day as a Lord, than to scrabble in the gutters for a moment but if we must be in the gutter, the stars lie above us." He grins again, flashing his teeth, "Mercutio, at your service and your pleasure!"

Grayson takes the glass as offered, touching Mercutio's fingers as he does so. "My thanks," he replies, his smile perhaps a little too knowing. "I am Grayson, and likewise - though I have not met you ere now, sir, nor unless I misjudge have the others here with us." His smile broadens. "But welcome inside and out of the cold."

"If you had met me before, would you not know me now? Am I changed so dramatically, but no, thou art new to mine eyes, and marvelous in them!" He speaks the words softly, but his voice flutters around Grayson, whispering from one direction to another. "Doth thou offer me warmth, little one?"

Grayson chuckles softly, though his eyes flick to the side as the voice moves there. "What I offer you is friendship, sirrah," he says, focusing on Mercutio again, "And perhaps a shared understanding? I am new indeed, but I have never been what one might call 'little'."

Mercutio's laugh also flutters around Grayson and he blows him a kiss from his fingertips, his grin flashing again. "A friendship and a shared understanding? But I'm for a party, and a dance. Do you dance?" He widens his eyes, the movement making them appear whiter against his skin, "Doth thou dance, or has noone taught you to do so yet?"

"I danced, a little," Grayson admits, "But I have yet to grow accustomed to my strength - and forgive my lack of manners, sirrah, but I am wary." That wariness is very much present - Grayson has none of the security a new vampire with a powerful mentor should have, and he doesn't know he's letting on, never mind how to hide it.

Mercutio rests a hand on his hip, tilting his head, his voice dropping to a low purr, that taste of power in it offering pleasure with just a touch of pain mingled in. "Oh my, someone has been neglecting his boy. Ducky, come and sit with me…" He moves to drape himself on a couch, offering a hand to Grayson with that broad grin, his head slightly lowered, his eyes lifted to watch Grayson through his lashes.

Grayson inclines his head to Mercutio. "I fear I am sworn to another," he murmurs, his power rising unbidden to match Mercutio's, although without even a fraction of the older vampire's finesse. He takes the hand, though, meeting Mercutio's eyes as he bows and lifts the hand to his lips. "But I am in sore need of aid - ducky."

The grin remains in place, but Mercutio's eyes are momentarily serious before they sparkle with amusement once more, a merely flicker in the shine of power. "Oh my, my oath that if I can be of service, luv, I'm all yours." Again, he lets his power flutter over Grayson, turning his hand to cup Grayson's cheek, a brush of his thumb against skin. "What troubles you, little one? Tell your Uncle Mercutio all about it."

Grayson's own hand lifts to touch Mercutio's jawline; he's showing far more of himself to the other vampire than he realises, and all while fully dressed. "I'm not sure I should," he admits, then adds, "But to be honest, I'm not sure I can afford not to." He swallows, then looks Mercutio in the eye again. "I've passed word through the Kiss that I'm new and in need of a mentor, and so far I've had no replies."

Mercutio turns his head, his other hand taking Grayson's to hold, as he turns to kiss it lightly. He watches Grayson with his eyes rolled up, to watch him through his lashes. "Tell me all, Ducky, and I'll look after you, just the way you need." He brushes kisses up Grayson's arm before releasing him abruptly with a broad grin. He throws his arms wide, resting them on the back of the couch, and crosses his legs. "I've had no contact with your Kiss little one but they should not neglect you so! It doth not ring my bell rightly!"

"I am led to believe that it is not appropriate," Grayson agrees. "And yet, if you have had no contact with the Kiss, you should not be in Chicago." Grayson withdraws a couple of steps, his arms folding across his chest and his eyes cold and calculating. "Unless I am mistaken, Mercutio?"

Mercutio laughs, his voice fluttering around the room, a joyous sound. "Oh you are mistaken! I am here with the right of entry, little cabbage, ducky!" He tilts his head back, his grin flashing broadly, the white teeth and fangs bright against his skin. "I am the Kiss, I am the Life and Soul of the Party and I bring you what you need." He pauses, adding softly, "Ducky."

Grayson's eyebrows lift. "Right of entry? You mean that there's no-one strong enough inclined to keep you out? Well, I've no real desire to match my strength against yours, Mercutio - but I can take no instruction from one who is not of the Kiss." He offers Mercutio a formal Elizabethan half-bow. "But then of this you are aware."

Mercutio leaps up, a graceful movement that lands him on his feet, once against seeming to lack a cloak to swirl. "I mean that who would wish to keep me out, to keep the Life from dancing at their party, and I bring with me the meat of the thing, the heart of the kiss, and the brains!" His voice flutters again, rising and falling with dramatic timing, his grin flashing. "And when you are in my Kiss, and welcomed to it, doth thou take instruction from me then?"

"Right gladly," comes Grayson's answer, his hand extended to the other vampire, lean and pale to Mercutio's active darkness but with a matching grin. "When I am welcomed into your Kiss because your Kiss is also mine, then shall I take instruction from you, and right gladly."

"Then let my Kiss become yours, little one, and be welcomed to learn from me, and thus from my Masters." Mercutio reaches out, takes that hand, bending to press a kiss against it with a flamboyant bow. Then his voice, a whisper, flutters around James' ears. "And right gladly will I take you on your journey, ducky."

Grayson chuckles softly at Mercutio's bow and kiss. "I shall look forward to it," he says; still guarded, but rather warmer now. "May that day - um, night - hurry and come soon."

"Oh it shall. Your new Masters hurry to your side, little cabbage." The whisper sounds as if he is leaning over Grayson's shoulder, whispering into his ear. Then, with a broad flash of his grin, he turns and strolls towards the door.

Grayson watches Mercutio turn to go, a thoughtful expression on his face. With slightly-narrowed eyes he watches the other depart, staying where he is until Mercutio is out of sight.

<NIGHT> La Pomme Rouge: Cabaret Lounge - Cermak Road: Crimson District

Guests of La Pomme Rouge are welcomed to indulge in the soothing comforts of the lush oversized beds surrounding the dance floor or dance the night away to the softer, more sultry side of progressive music mixes- grooves that one can just as easily and contentedly relax to as dance to. The black stone floor of the vestibule stops and dark hardwood takes over the dance floor. Black stone steps lead up to the beds. Champagne-coloured and crimson-coloured sheer, silk curtains are layered to create the illusion of privacy between each downy, red bed. Small tables rest at the foot of each bed with a golden bowl of edible red apples. Overhead, three floors high, the ceiling is ornately carved and painted in rich gold, white, and red. Modern lights make the room glow, the few lights over the dance floor shift in various honey-hued patterns.
The bar is against the wall to the right of the entrance and backed by a golf-framed, six-foot-tall mirror. The mirror's length is equal to the bar. The bar is made of the same dark wood as the floor with a red granite top. Dim lamps are dispersed along the length of the bar-top. Stools are draped in burgandy velvet slipcovers and tied on by silk ropes and tassels.
While this is a restaurant, there are no dining tables with chairs. People are seen carrying small trays of food- the main courses portioned into finger foods. (See +view) There are, however, small tables in front of the beds in this room and more tables dispersed throughout the salons where patrons may relax and nosh on posh nibbles throughout the night's revelry. And, of course, guests are welcome to dine at the bar, too.

Late evening verging on morning, and the Cabaret Lounge has emptied somewhat. Sprawled on one of the oversized beds and making it look positively standard, Grayson is lying back and watching the ceiling. Fluctuations in his power are palpable for those with the ability to feel it, the new vampire experimenting quietly.

Late evening verging on morning, and the Cabaret Lounge has emptied somewhat. Sprawled on one of the oversized beds and making it look positively standard, Grayson is lying back and watching the ceiling. Fluctuations in his power are palpable for those with the ability to feel it, the new vampire experimenting quietly. (re for Cherish)

The doors fly open, and Mercutio strikes a pose in the doorway, holding it with his hands thrown wide, his head tilted back and that broad grin flashing his white fangs in his dark face. "Ladies and Gentlemen, I beg your attention." His voice flutters around the room, the power behind it offering a mingling of sex and seduction. "I give you the Master of the Ring, the Puppeteer that pulls the strings, The King of the Kiss, the Brains of the Outfit!" He twirls, stepping to the side, a gesture that begs a cloak. "The Master of the City!"

Cherish is dressed, as a lady should be dressed, for an arrival at the Pomme. No ratty jeans, or simple t-shirts. No combat boots or worn jackets. Instead, red silk and satin, sleeveless, thin straps holding it to the curve of her neck while the rest of the dress lays against her curves with a possessive whisper. Heels, matching, give her a few inches on her frame and her hair is loose. A tumble of waves and curls, loose and free to frolic down her back and across bare shoulders. A small clutch purse tucked in one hand, she arrives on the tail end of the introduction. Perhaps just in time to hear it. A small lift of her head, her eyes flickering to the man that now claims… Master of the City.

Maximillian's footsteps can be heard before he is seen, the distinct 'click clack' as he approaches the door echoing around the club. His shadow is seen next as he starts down the corridor towards the doorway, he's obviously had practice at this and knows how to keep to the shadows. When he finally steps into the club proper he blinks briefly as he enters into the light, there is a crooked grin on his face and he surveys the room before offering a slight bow, his hand on his heart. "Salutations my lords, ladies and gentleman." Maximillian isn't using power to project his voice but he still manages to speak loudly enough to be heard around the room. With a slight nod of his head to Mercutio he makes his way down the steps, nodding and smiling her and there as he notices people glance his way.

Grayson turns to look at the door, smiling to see Mercutio again - but at Mercutio's introduction his eyes go wide, his smile vanishes, and he acquires that deer-in-the-headlights look. He goes absolutely still, and what blood is left in his system drains away from his face. He's not the only one in that state, either.

Mercutio moves, a graceful movement that is almost a dance, following Maximillian. His gaze flickers around the room, resting briefly on the woman and he pauses to offer her a flash of his broad grin. He makes a gesture towards the other vampire, murmuring softly into Maximillian's ear, before he sweeps a deep, elegant bow, a gesture lacking only a cloak. "Master, may I present to you the ever amusing Grayson, the little one whose tolerance I beg for you?" His tricks with his voice ease as he speaks to the Master Vampire, but the look he slants to Grayson is flirting distilled, concentrated, and shot through the man's eyelashes as he straightens from his bow.

Cherish is a whisper of energy, a warm breath among the cool masses and with trained patience she waits for the Master of the City to enter, hanging back. The clutch purse is drawn to settle between her breasts, the cleaver cut of the dress revealing just enough to be tantalizing. Eyes sweep the room, watching the vampires and she notes the rather pale one who sits upright in his bed almost as abruptly as if rising from a coffin in one of those trite horror movies. If she can, she shadows the Master and his exuberant friend, only close enough for those shifter ears to hear. As she does her eavesdropping, she is careful to look casual.

Maximillian steps further in to the club, stopping when he gets close to the tables. Slowly, lazily he rolls his neck and shoulders, working out some imaginary kinks. "It's is so very good to be back", he says to the room at large before stooping slightly to listen to Mercutio. The grin on his face widens as he listens and he turns his head to look over to Grayson, crooking an eyebrow as he examines him. Without saying another word he looks into Grayson's eyes and beckons him with a crooked finger.

A few moments behind Mercutio and Maximillian, Dominic Cole moves without nearly as as much drama - woefully casually dressed for somewhere like La Pomme, he lags behind enough for it to be questionable that he's with the two, but the heavy sigh at their introduction and a look of almost boredom about the pomp and circumstance of the arrival of someone like Max might link him to them. The power that accompanies Dom is cold, clammy - but not entirely vampire-like at all. He takes a slow, disinterested look around as the pause inside lets him draw closer to Maximillian and Mercutio, taking up a position behind and to the right of them, an obvious placement to communicate lesser rank.

Grayson pushes himself up and rolls easily to his feet, moving with casual grace and lowered eyes. He straightens, facing Maximillian, then starts pacing towards Maximillian. "I know the Master of the City," the English vampire remarks quietly as he moves. "I apologise, my Lord, but you are not she." In his black outfit with the coat left by his 'seat' he looks slender, fragile, and not exactly certain of where he stands.

"But that was another country, and besides, the wench is dead." Mercutio's grin flashes and he takes a dancing step sideways, glancing at Maximillian, before he adds softly, "Or at least in London, which becomes the same thing if you misstep with a Lady there." But he slants that laughing look towards Cherish, offering her a bow that comes direct from the Elizabethian court, a sweeping courtesy offered with a broad grin. "And she leaves her city unguarded, uncared for, and the young ones unguided."

Cherish moves onto a seat at the bar, one of the few places to settle that isn't a bed. "Martini, dirty please." The woman speaks with a practiced eloquence. Resting with a gentle lean, she places her clutch purse on the bar top and when her drink arrives she lifts it to rouged lips to sip. Legs cross, a flash of flesh before she adjusts the lengthy skirt portion of the dress to conceal most of what might be an eyeful. As Grayson speaks, a single brow juts upward in an expression that might be one of interest, leaning a little towards shock. Fingers still caressing the neck of her martini glass, she simply watches. Listens. And waits. As Mercutio turns and gives her a bow, she smiles, a rather shy and girlish smile, her lashes lowered. The expression however contends with the twinkle in her eye. A bow of her head, in return she gives him a saucy little wink.

Maximillian offers Grayson his hand, palm down so that his signet ring is prominent. Even though he has to look up at Grayson it seems almost like he's looking down on him. "I am Maximillian, Master of the Padma line. You may offer me your oath." Maximillian fixes Grayson with his piercing gaze, his pale green eyes almost glowing in their sockets. The look of amusement has left his face, calm sternness replacing it, as he awaits the younger vampires reply.

A few moments of peering at Grayson, then a sidelong look from Dominic off at the other source of power in the room - the warmer, stranger source of power - at Cherish at her seat at the bar, then back at Mercutio during their little exchange. Dom leans forward, taking a half-step to come closer to Mercutio, murmurs close to the man's ear, "Does that mean I get a night off from being the main course? I could certainly use a rest, you have no idea how many unused muscles have been worked to aching having to fend you off constantly. I'll buy her a drink in your name if it will help."

Grayson pauses for a moment, then drops to one knee to take the hand in his own and kiss the offered signet, being ever so careful about how much pressure he applies. "Blood of my blood," he says, eyes closed and head lowered in defeat. "Flesh of my flesh, the two shall be as one. One flesh, one blood, one soul." The words said, he waits for whatever reply will come, not even remembering to breathe.

Grayson Oaths to Maximillian with some "Blood of my blood, flesh of my flesh" phrase.

Mercutio's grin widens at the wink, flashing his fangs and watching her through his lashes before Dominic's words draw his attention away. "But how could I demote you to a mere starters, less than the meat, the main of my life, of my night, ducky? Would I sorely neglect the best of the beef?" His voice is teasing, thrown to flutter flirtatiously around the serious man's ears, and his turn ends in a pose of offering a kiss to him, the flamboyant vampire's eyes closed, his lips pursed. The oathing, serious business that it is, is ignored for the softer arts of byplay.

If Cherish can hear Dominic's plea, she makes no expression of such. Brushing a length of hair from smooth shoulder, she props her chin on her curled fingers, her elbow on the bar and continues to watch the display with thoughtful gaze. So very interesting. Another sip on her martini, she is careful not to interrupt such politics and to do. A little movement of her foot, clad in those delicious heels, keeping a gentle beat to some song that playing only in her mind. Or perhaps she keeps time to the tempo of her heart.

Maximillian nods as Grayson speaks the oath, speaking his own half at the appropriate moment. The smile is back on his face now and carefully gripping Grayson's hand he starts to pull him up. "Rise Grayson, you are among family now." Now that the serious business is over Maximillian seems a lot more jovial. "Come, lets take a seat, I'm curious as to how you came to be in this tricky little situation." Glancing over his shoulder to Mercutio and Dominic he says "Feel free to join us, or entertain yourself as you will."

"Even the best steak pales, in time, to the offering of a sweet piece of veal." With a nod off toward Cherish, Dominic urges, "Give me -one- night where I can walk around without my ass clenched tight, and tomorrow I'll let you sit in my lap. For five whole minutes." There is a tone of exhausted affection from Dominic, which is communicated further by a reach outward and a couple of firm pats on Mercutio's ass. "Go, mighty hunter, and slay the fatted calf. Make it a night of conquest for the visiting heroes. I will consider my freedom for the night a conquest of its own, and we shall acquire a hat trick of victories that shall serve as good omen for Chicago."

Grayson rises as he's commanded to do so; his shoulders relax as he exhales, most of the worry and tension he's carried all evening dissipating in that moment. "Master," Grayson bows, an elaborate formal courtesy from the court of Elizabeth, and then he's waiting for Max to select a seat rather than presume to choose one himself. There's a warm sidelong smile at Mercutio, and a curious glance at Dominic.

Mercutio sweeps a bow at Maximillian's permission to entertain himself, his grin flashing at Dominic's words. "A promise is given and accepted, and tomorrow I shall use those moments of pleasure, of delight!" His voice flutters around once more, his power offering the seduction as he sweeps down the stairs towards Cherish. He gives her a bow, a leg extended and an invisible cloak swept around him, "Most sure, the goddess on whom these airs attend! Might a humble slave make offering to the Goddess of the night with a drink?"

Maximillian grins to Mercutio and offers him a small nod of his head before turning back to Grayson. "Come then, let us talk." This said, Maximillian starts to head towards the bed that Grayson was occupying earlier, not waiting to see if Grayson is following. Maximillian waits for Grayson to arrive before beckoning to a server, "Some refreshments before we start?" He asks, genial and kind, trying to put the younger vampire at ease.

Shining eyes look to Dominic, a sliver of something bestial passing in that playful and twinkling gaze. As Mercutio approaches, Cherish tilts her head gently, unintentionally, or perhaps intentionally revealing the gentle curve of her throat, bare to him. Manicured fingertips move along her collarbone, a lowering of her lashes as she smiles a coy and seductive smile. "Perhaps. But I know your kind to be not humble but wicked of tongue and quick of fang. Is it me that you offer a drink to, or am I to be the vessel? The cup, clad in shining jewels, filled to the very brim." She lifts her head, straightening subtly, drawing dark hair over one shoulder. "One should know, that while I have been tasted before, to invite one wolf, is to invite the whole pack." She motions to the seat beside her, "But sit, if you are still brave."

There is a visible relaxation in the buttocks area of Dominic as Mercutio sweeps off toward Cherish. A slow, cautious breath inward, held - let out in a rush. And it is then that a much more relaxed Dom makes his way toward the table at which the Master and his newly Oathed vassal sit. A chair is selected, a moment of pause - polite enough to give Max a chance to nod approval of his joining, presumably, and granted that said nod occurs, the seat will be taken. "Thank all the gods that ever were, he's going to be -straight- for an evening. And, Master, I do hope I would not be amiss at requesting leave from being refreshment - your will commands me, but sometimes I fear my veins will be scoured clean by dust storms and rolling tumbleweeds."

"Brave? I am but a foolish knave, lost in admiration of the jewels that adorn the vessel!" Mercutio makes the words a declaration, dramatic and sending his voice to flutter around the room. He takes a seat, leaning back against the bar, his head tilted back, watching her through his lashes. His grin flashes easily and he adds softly, "Besides, you are the prettiest thing in the room, ducky." He winks and slants a look at Dominic's direction. "Even including the ass on that one." His accent is London, but the drama eases a little with those words.

Grayson follows Maximillian, pulling himself back together as he moves - but for all that he still cuts an impressive figure on his own, next to Maximillian he's very obviously younger, even though he looks physically older. He moves with a wary care for his surroundings, the hallmark of one not yet used to his new strength. He waits for Maximillian to sit before seating himself, and when he does so he takes care to make sure his head is lower tham Max's, taking a pillow on the floor if necessary. "I'm fine, thank you, Master," Grayson murmurs, then slants a faint smile at Dominic. "This is just a guess, sir, but I suspect he won't be straight for the entire evening with you here to torment."

Her smile warms, as any woman she does so love to be complemented. A flash of tongue over her lips, she casts a gaze in the direction of those gathered around the table. "See, already you speak with forked tongue." She chides, reaching with warm, soft hand to light upon your elbow as you rest against the bar, back to it. Gently, her warm energy brushes, coaxes and cajoles him, teasingly. "And you should know, you may loose yourself in admiration as you like." She smoothes the silk at her knee, letting it drop, the slit on the dress allowing for a little more flesh to be seen. Silk stockings beneath. "But to touch, maybe… poisonous to one's health." As she speaks, she leans towards him, as if sharing a secret. "Now, we shall play tit for tat. I will go first." Cherish sips her drink, looks to the other vampires, "Your companion there, is he as you introduce him? Is he really Master of the City?" Fingertips of her free hand light on her pulse, a beating tempo at her throat.

Max nods to Dominic. "I think young Grayson has a point, as for the other… consider this an evening off, I wish to see what this fine establishment has on 'tap'." Max confers with one of the servers for a few moments and waits until they return with a glass containing viscous red liquid. Maximillian offers those around the table a silent toast with the glass before taking a sip. "Hmm, not too bad. Not a scratch on you of course Dominic." He adds with a grin. "

"Steak, veal, variety, spice of life. Dust storms, tumbleweeds, cardiovascular system." When the order goes out, Dominic orders wine - actual wine, red, but actual factual not-sucked-out-of-a-person wine - that maintains an appearance of conformity without actually conforming to the general order for the table. The tone Dominic has when speaking to Max is one of careful familiarity. There's a wariness there, a readiness at any moment to snap into a more formal tone - and the man watches Max's face frequently with the same look one gives a tiger professed by its trainer to be safe, but unbound by a leash to guarantee its cooperation. It might be noted that the man does -not- avoid the eyes of either Max or the new vampire, especially when he reaches out to offer a hand to Grayson to shake. "Dominic Cole," the man offers. "Servant to Mistress Josephine. Who shall, no doubt, be arriving in Chicago soon." That might, though, be the 'vampiric' soon, encompassing the possibility of hours or months.

Grayson takes Dominic's hand in his own. "Grayson," he replies. "Pleased to meet you, Dominic, Servant to Josephine." He's not looking at Dominic's eyes, and his handshake isn't exactly limp, more very, very careful. "I was a Pomme du Sang for thirty years, but I was granted the honour of vampirism when I sustained wounds that would have been months in healing, last week." He only looks to be in his mid to late thirties. "The one at whose command I was Turned gave me my first meal, but she departed that night." There's a lot he isn't saying, but the hurt and confusion sneak out anyway, despite his attempts to keep them from view.

"Forked tongue? I? You wound me, fair lady, to the heart! Or would if I could find mine and had not lost it the moment I saw your fair face!" His energy, cooler, but offering seduction, sex in energy form. "Ducky, did you not hear me? Did I smell of a lie?" His hand rests on his heart, the brown eyes widening in his dark face as he gazes at her soulfully, and then flashes his broad grin quickly. "Luv, he is the true Master of the City. If one leaves a trifle lying around, then another is wont to gather that trifle up." He glances towards the table, and extends a hand, "Shall I introduce you? A gem in this fair city's crown!"

That little mental stenographer, is indeed taking notes in her head. Grayson. Mr. Cole and Cherish believes she heard the man beside her referred to as Mercutio. That leaves simply -the- man, what might be the most important man, to be named. A sip of her martini again, setting down the glass gently. "Do you not know, that …" she leans towards Mercutio, closing the distance, letting her own warm energy lap at his cool seduction. "That one like me relishes in pain." That wicked twinkle, it seems to hone into something that is downright devilish. "For if my words do wound, I can offer but to kiss and make them better." A press of two fingers to her glistening lips, a soft kissing sound. If his senses are keen, he might hear the puncturing sound. That of teeth to ripe fruit, or teeth to slim finger, breaking flesh. If Mercutio allows, she presses the 'kiss' lit on her fingers, to his own cool mouth. "I would like that, indeed. But then I fear that I must depart."

Maximillian offers Dominic another toast when he has his own glass before turning to Grayson. He looks mildly surprised as he listens to him recount his tale. "Well that won't do at all, it's hardly a fitting introduction to the Kiss." Maximillian looks over his shoulder and smiles as he watches Mercutio chatting with Cherish. Nodding to him he turns back to Grayson. "Well, you're going to need instruction and I think lovely Mercutio is up to the task. I understand you've already spoken, I assume this would suffice unless you have another in mind?" Maximillian settles back on the bed, shifting back until he can lounge more comfortably.

"You're in good hands, with Mercutio," Dominic assures Grayson. The squeeze from Dom -is- firm, a tight hold on Grayon's hand - a bit tighter than should likely come from a human - before it's released, slips back. "If rather grabby, presumptuous hands. The kind of hands that rather do not know what the words, 'No thank you, I prefer the company of women' mean. Still, competent hands." There is a look back toward where Cherish and Mercutio converse, as though fearing that the vampire shall ghost across the floor and accost him from behind at the statement.

Grayson's gaze flicks over to Mercutio, and he smiles. "No objection at all, Master," comes the reply, Grayson nodding to Max. "And thank you." And then he's grinning at Dominic, revealing fangs without realising it. "I prefer the company of men myself, but I much prefer to be on top. I suspect there will be more than a few interesting nights ahead." As Max relaxes, so does Grayson, ending up lounging almost like some form of great cat.

Mercutio allows that kiss against mouth, his grin flashing at her words and he straightens, taking her hand to lead her to Maximillian's side. He sweeps his master a deep bow, his spare hand thrown out dramatically, as his voice proclaims, "A lady as fair of face as she is wise requests an introduction, Master of Mine, Master of all he sees, Maximillian, Master of the City, and therefore I beg the indulgence of a glance, a moment." His voice flutters around the room, offering that shiver of pleasure, of promise. His grin flashes, shooting a look at Dominic, and then Grayson. "I swear, her manner rivals even Dominic's fair charms, but my grabby, presumptuous hands are rejected, and woe is me, I comfort myself with the Gem of Chicago instead, whose mouth glistens with promise of wounds made better!"

Maximillian grins widely as he listens to Dominic, and his cautious look over his shoulder actually causes him to chuckle. "You really should relax a little more Dominic, you're starting to squeak when you walk." Still chuckling he shakes his head. "He has the right of it though Grayson, you'll be in practiced hands." That said he looks over as Mercutio reaches their table, as nods patiently as he's introduced, giving the other vampire a warm smile as he finishes introductions. He offers Cherish a slight dip of the head, not getting up from his reclined position. "Charmed, I'm sure."

"May you find multitudes of mouths that glisten more brightly than imagination could conjure," Dominic mutters, quietly, "And render mine duller in the comparison. Thank god for new toys, Mr. Grayson, I shall pray that the struggles between you shall prove so entertaining that I might live no longer in fear of the loss of my…" The word that comes next is said with self-aware sarcasm, "Innocence. Mayhap, one day, I may even be allowed to take the advice of our Master to heart." And with that, Dom's eyes turn to Cherish, who has been made, rightfully, center of attention by the oh-so-talented introduction of Mercutio. "Charmed and delighted," he adds to the Master's salutation.

Were the dress a little more forgiving in line, she might curtsy, but such an outfit simply does not allow it with grace. Instead, placing one foot behind the other, she does give a compensating bow, "I do beg forgiveness, for my intrusion, dear Sir but having been Servant to a former Master of the City I find myself attempting to keep with the changes in throne. It is a pleasure." She straightens, "My name is Cherish, if I can be of any assistance, then please feel free to seek me out" Likewise, a gentle nod of her head to Dominic. "Gentleman." She adds softly. "Unfortunately, duty calls." She slips her fingers into her clutch purse which was grasped as she was led to the table. "This is my number." A card is offered, it appears from the title on the card the woman is a interpreter.

Grayson inclines his head to Cherish. "Pleased to meet you," he murmurs, straightening a little to do so before relaxing back. His eyes go to Dominic, his smile amused but with a touch of slyness to it. "Or it might mean that there are two of us after your… innocence. Working together." He glances at Maximillian, then back to Dominic.

"Innocence? You mean your ass, ducky." Mercutio's grin flashes easily, his eyes widening with a brightening of the mischief. "Little one, I promise to be gentle with you, and may our partnership bring forth a loosening in Dominic's …" He pauses, shooting Cherish a broad grin, drawing the moment out dramatically. "Lips." Then he takes her card, releasing the woman before he leaps over the arm of the seat, one graceful movement to land him in Maximillian's lap, his head tilted back, lips pursed provocatively. He offers the card to his Master with a grin, flashing his teeth.

Maximillian crooks an eyebrow and Dominic, obvious amusement showing in his eyes. "You're integrity perhaps?", he is about to speak further when he is surprised by Mercutio's sudden movement, although he makes no effort to deflect him. Maximillian nods to Cherish as she hands over the card, "I'm sure we'll run into each other again. Have a pleasant evening." Turning to Mercutio he carefully wraps one arm around him, taking care not to unbalance him. "You've done well this evening." He says offering him a warm smile, grinning he adds. "Although you're incredibly fortunate that I dressed on the 'left' this morning."

A long, deep draught from his glass of wine. "My innocent, virginal, never-going-to-happen ass. And this," Dominic comments, looking up at Cherish as though conspiring with her, "Is why I sleep only after sunrise, and awaken always before sunset, and -always- under guard, just to be safe. A million thanks, madame, for the moentary reprieve - and my eternal gratitude if you will repeat your visits frequently, at much much longer durations." Teeth - straight, human teeth, in case it need be said - show in Dominic's grin. "Good evening, madame, and again, it was a pleasure to be distracted from this utterly terrifying duo."

Grayson's chuckle is both soft and throaty as he relaxes even further. "I have a feeling that the near future is going to be interesting in all sorts of regards," he remarks. "Have a good evening, Ms. Cherish." And then his eyes are focusing on Dominic again, and even though he's been a vampire for less than a week there's something about his patiently predatory look that says it's had an awful lot longer than a few days to mature.

"Dominic keeps his integrity where he keeps his innocence." Mercutio's response is quick, his voice lifted with that light push of power behind it, making it flutter around the room as if on wings. "Ah, Dominic, me thinks thou doth protest too much, and all of your desires lend you to be in my bed and in my arms!" Maximillian's praise does bring that grin out, making it widen in a flash of white in his face, but there is a caution to his movements as he tumbles out of the Master's lap, to land in Grayson's lap, to wrap an arm casually around the other vampire. "'ello Ducky!"

Maximillian is having a good night and he doesn't try to hide it. "Dominic, you really should eat something. To keep your strength up if nothing else, you also don't want that wine to go to your head. I'd hate to have to explain to Josephine why her human servant has taken to chaining his door shut at night." Looking to both Mercutio and Grayson he adds "Anyway, I'm sure they'll both behave admirably, I've never listened to any complaints about Mercutio."
Maximillian checks himself briefly before adding, "Sorry, I meant 'heard' no complaints." He says with a grin.

Grayson catches Mercutio with aplomb, moving so that his lap's a more comfortable place to be. "'Ello, Ducky," he replies, then leans in to kiss Mercutio squarely on the lips. He doesn't seem to be in any hurry to break the kiss off, either. His eyes flick to Dominic, checking for reaction.

"That is, I'm sure, because Mercutio has studied more witchcraft than I have had the occasion to encounter in my brief existence, when it comes to convincing his victi—ah, paramours that they enjoyed his…tender ministrations." Dominic reclines in his seat with his wine glass, looking quite relaxed for a man with his anal sphincter under siege. He gestures dismissively with one hand, "I assure you that my constitution is not so delicate as to be rendered faint - even if one were to, say, slip a date rape drug into my wine in an attempt to render me more pliable. So no need to even try."

"Oh ducky, I am always well behaved." Mercutio makes his voice flutter around Dominic, the push of Belle's power in it obvious, blindingly sexual. He returns the kiss lightly, with flare. But Dominic's words actually cause the vampire to tense, sit release Grayson and sit up. His easy grin vanishes and there is a flash of power, "Do you imply that I must roll my lovers to gain one, ducky? That I would lower myself to drug a man to take him?" His voice slides into a low purr, anger in it, the bitchy tones of teasing vanished.

"Yes of course, I keep forgetting that you are hardier then you look and I'm absolutely sure that Mercutio wouldn't be so crass as to slip something in your drink." Maximillian's tone is firm but the amusement lingers. It is hard to effect his general mood it seems, with the words spoken he turns to watch Mercutio and Grayson with a certain amount of interested amusement, all the time taking careful sips from his glass.

"I suggested that one such as you, fair Mercutio, know witchcraft that is beyond the powers of your line or your kind, that transcends into the realms of supernal, celestial skill, and which could render even the most reluctant of lovers pliable to your will after knowing your embrace - and may have even suggested, my lord, that fear of this ability is what keeps one such as I reluctant, out of the cocnern that once I'd tasted the pleasures of your flesh, that even my devotion to my mistress might wane in comparison." Flattery - heavy, obvious flattery - is obviously the balm that Dominic has chosen to apply to the wounded Mercutio's pride. "And perhaps that those around you might go to any length to acquire for you that which you covet, even the ill-advised application of unneeded pharmaceuticals."

Grayson releases Mercutio as he's released, the taller of the three vampires leaning back to watch this. His smile has vanished, his pale eyes sharp on Dominic's face. "There's no fun in Rolling your conquests," he murmurs, "Or in drugging them. The most fun of all is to be had when they volunteer themselves into your bed, fearful and hopeful at the same time."

Mercutio's each grin returns with a flash, his eyes rolling at the obvious flattery but he leans back, looping his arm around Grayson once more, shooting the other man a look. "He speaks with a tongue heavy in the mead of flattery, balm to an ego he rejects in the next moment, ducky, but still, the insult is withdrawn and my sword can rest." His voice, thrown carelessly out into the room, travels with that lazy showmanship, all the time to amuse his Master. "A reluctant pet is no pet at all, and I make slaves of noone but serve willingly at my Master's pleasure."

Maximillian nods. "Indeed." His obvious pleasure that the matter has been resolved showing on his face and he gives Mercutio and Dominic and affectionate smile. "Mercutio, you were quite right, I think young Grayson here will fit in nicely." Adding a small cough he says "If you'll pardon the pun." Maximillian then turns to Grayson "I don't suppose you've seen any other members of the original Kiss in your travels? The masters perhaps?"

With everything calming down, Dominic falls quiet with a small, amused grin curled firmly along closed lips that part only to takes the occasional sip from his wine glass. As he sits back, he slumps in his chair, lefts one leg up to let his ankle rest on the other leg's knee, and watches the reclining vampires with the calm affection of a familiar outsider observing rituals he can't ever -quite- understand. There is a steady, tidal flux of cool power that the vampires can likely detect quite easily, a contented lapping against the auras of the others.

Grayson's arm goes round Mercutio in turn, but as he's addressed by Maximillian he straightens ever so slightly. "The Master Amalesh holds the Chateau du Fumant. I think he's the Second. Master Brand, the Master of the City before Stasia, is in Paris, dealing with the Council, though his Human Servant, Lexine, is still in town." He goes on to name a few more Masters and where they can be found, and other powers in the Chicago Kiss. Every now and again he gives Dominic sidelong, curious looks at the lapping power - but only when it's at its strongest.

Mercutio lets his fingers play lightly over Grayson's skin, his power a thing of sensuous teasing. He watches Dominic with the gaze of a lazy cat watching a fat mouse, the one too lazy to catch the other. "And yet, these Masters leave their fledgeling unguarded, unguided. We'll soon put paid to that neglect, ducky." His fingers slide more deeply into Grayson's hair, abruptly closing into a sharp tug. The movement is done with a flash of his grin, before he looks to Maximillion. "I seek permission to retire, my Lord, to take my student and teach him the first lesson."

Maximillian nods. "Well, I'd like this 'transition' to go as smoothly and as painlessly as possible. There's no point in wasting good talent if we don't have to." His own power is flowing in a steady ebb, touching but not encroaching on the others. "Of course, I can see that you're both eager to get started." To the room in general he says "I think I shall retire for the evening as well, there is still much to be done." To Dominic he says "As I said earlier, your time is your own this evening but do be careful, I've heard tell of odd things in the night here in the city."

"There are odd things in the night in every city," Dominic says, still sounding extremely relaxed. "The power of my Mistress sustains and protects me even when she is absent, even in this city as yet still being tamed, Master, I shall fear the night air very little - although I thank you quite sincerely for your kind concern. My Mistress, I am sure, is warmed by your regard for her." With that, Dominic comes to his feet, rocking forward as he draws up, and bows low, ees dipped to the floor.

As the fingers tighten in his hair, Grayson's fangs bare in a narrow-eyed snarl - and then he remembers where he is and who he's with. His fangs vanish behind his lips, his eyes lowering. "There are a vampire and a hyena causing trouble," he murmurs. "I was the first of their victims, but there have been several more. Be wary of shadows where there shouldn't be any."

The fingers give a tug, the grin flashing before Mercutio surges to his feet, slipping behind Dominic and reaching out his hands to grasp the other's hips, pushing against him lightly from behind. Then he leaps back, dancing away, lifting a hand to make a mocking swooning gesture. "My heart be still but I felt those buttocks of steel! I shall away, to lie down and soothe my fevered brow!" Theatrics aside, he too bows to Maximillion, lifting a hand to crook his finger to Grayson, "Come, ducky, let us away before my lust overcomes me further."

"And, pray, soothe his fevered cock, that its heat might not overwarm me," Dominic remarks, dryly.

Maximillian nods to Dominic and offers him a smile. Rising he also offers a nod to James and Mercutio, grinning all the while at his antics. With a last glance at the others in the club he makes his way towards the door, leaving the others to their business. He is still in high spirits though and can be heard to chuckle as he walks, listening to the bantering going on behind him.

Grayson chuckles softly, rising to his feet and catching up his neatly-folded coat. He shrugs into the long garment, then offers Maximillian a bow. "Master," he says respectfully, then offers a nod to Dominic before turning to follow Mercutio out. He's a dark-clad sinister shadow to Mercutio's dark-skinned jester's japes. "And will you allow another to soothe your brow, Mentor? Or would you seek to persuade me that it is my brow that requires the soothing?" His tone is mild, amused, and definitely arch as he follows after Mercutio, his coat flaring out theatrically as he moves.

Mercutio drapes an arm around Grayson's shoulders, his grin flashing easily, "It is you that seeks the comfort of a firm hand, ducky, and I willingly provide! Lead me to your takers!" He speaks in a light tone, joking easily, adding softly as they leave the bar, "And you must give me the number of your tailor, for the clothes maketh the man, and this man is unmade!"

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