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The Disciple had decided to stay where he was, just on the other side of the lush greenery dotted with white, night-blooming flowers. Their heady perfume drifting across the mild evening breeze that suddenly picked up, lifting the ends of his long hair as it slithered across the bacony. The snake that had coiled and paused on his forearm continued to gaze up at him obstinately, as if chastising him for nearly choosing to ignore the desire to investigate. Why was sticking his nose in their business so important? More infuriating was that part of him was drawn to the idea of it. A burning curiosity taking root and spreading. Very well. He hadn't indulged in sport in some time. Not since he'd left the seclusion of the inner chambers, racking up quite the body count during his time alone. All cattle. Specifically chosen for his return. Nonna knew how to prepare, that his hunger always ran deeper than normal. She'd had plenty ready to sate him.

He waved away the small serpent who disappeared in a haze of iridescent smoke and rounded the large, beautiful plant with a purposeful stride, as if he had business with the two instead of accidentally having stumbled upon them while trying to get some air. That liquid gold gaze remained illuminated softly by the silvery light bathing everything in a dreamy glow. It's vibrancy increasing as the clouds began to roll further away, exposing more of the moons potent light, the image of the two males finally coming into clear view before him. He didn't appear awkward or ill at ease, in fact his expression was more that of having found them out of place, obviously having missed the introduction of their god and the toast inside. "Good evening." The Disciples voice broke the silence, calm and silvery, that intimate tone shaping every word into a smooth delight to the senses. Like silk. Though behind it he added a little more purr than usual, the sensation of fingers down ones spine again, rippling out as the tone struck the air and drifted across to the two males. Augustus had no hesitation in approaching once he'd been seen, his tall frame moving between them and the house with his back to the ornate glass windows. There was a look of tempered interest on his face, like he was studying an anomaly, his gaze carefully roving over both while trying to place them.

The darker haired one he felt he recognized from some point in time, though much younger. Those striking eyes were hard to forget. His companion, equally as lovely, was unknown to him but not for long. "Are you enjoying yourselves tonight?" His claws clicked across the edge of his empty wine glass, chin lifting subtly as a coy though pleasant smile pulled at his lips, his posture perfect. Lifting his arm up he curled the hand holding the wine glass into his chest, waiting to see how they responded. He knew almost every Giovanni but so many had either grown up and aged or come into being while he was asleep, it was a game of connecting the dots at this point. Luckily it didn't take long. There were many telltale traits of each family and their blood or energy usually told him instantly who they were or who they belonged to. He had already pegged them for Puttanesca and Della Passaglia. A curious mix. Not that he cared. The infighting was left for houses trying to gain rank and favor, cultivating an image of being better than one another. To the Disciple they all belonged to the Giovanni. So long as they worked their aims towards the clans strength and success he could give a s**t who was banging whom. Unless it brought heat on the clan as a whole of course.

The “Crusade” as Riccardo had so put it left Rafaele little time to socialize himself. And it was no surprise when people were shocked he appeared at parties or meetings at all. Unlike Edon, Rafaele has little responsibility in keeping up family appearances. So he was given a lot of sway when it came to being able to decide when and where he would show up if he felt such an itch to be seen. If anything important happened he was certain Edon would tell him, his older brother was always good for keeping him in the loop. Not to say his social skills were lacking, they just weren’t as entirely polished as they might have been in his youth. He found beating around the bush never got him anywhere anyhow.

But his lack of socialization and his crusade has cost him in the end. No body wanted to wait around for him forever. But he hadn’t been given the opportunity to make a choice, it had been taken from him. Was he a bit petty about it? Perhaps. But he kept his mind busy so that he did not dwell on it. Continuing to tell himself that what he was doing was important. Not only to him but to the famiglia too.

Too all of them even if their gratitude was lacking.

“Sempre.” His reply to the Puttanesca’s question came quick and without hesitation. “Non dimentico i miei amici. E che ti piaccia o no, sei davvero un mio amico.” It was the truth. Just because they had not seen each other in a very long time didn’t mean Rafaele would forget their times together. How close they had gotten out there while just trying to survive.

He chuckled into his glass as he took another sip. Letting a claw drag along the rim as he savored his drink. It was one that was often his drink of choice. It was always stocked in his office along with other liquors that he would sometimes offer guests or business acquaintances.”I do believe I then used the word charming afterward.” Another smile on that handsome face. When was the last time he had actually smiled this much? The jewel set into the gold band of his pinkie ring reflected a stay flicker of light as his hand moved to swirl his cup once more. An eyebrow raising as he watched him stroke that stark white beard. “No, I suppose not. It is your face after all and you may do with it as you please.”

Crusade. That’s what they all called it. Not any term of endearment but a jest, a joke. Would they all still joke knowing just how close they were to possible annihilation? They would all be pissing themselves if they knew. Right, the reason he had come here. Of course, one of his targets was milling about, of course he would be. Along with several co-conspirators too he was certain and Rafaele had made note of everyone he had spoken to so far that the ORG head could see since his arrival. His attention split between intel and his hood friend. For now it seemed Amadeo wasn’t going anywhere and Thane was close behind him. But he had yet to see the one he was really interested in. The younger one.

“No, I am still working even now. “ When he had arrived the Koenig informant had been with him but Rafaele had sent him to do some digging while they were there. The gym comment brought out a breathy laugh, eyes closing in amusement as he tilted his head slightly. Pale, wavy hair cascading over his shoulder. “Have to have something nice to house the brains.” He tapped a claw against his temple. Rafaele had always been the physical sort and it wasn’t that hard to maintain a relatively good looking physic. He was naturally muscular so most of it was just maintenance and also when he worked out he could think without anyone disturbing him. That was when his mind worked it’s best.

“Other than that I have been busy as always. It’s too bad you don’t work for ORG anymore. It’s not quite as exciting as it used to be in the early days.” Hunting down Cappadocians always brought a thrill for the Machiavelli. The hunt, the chase. But what he delighted in even more was exposing traitors “You should come by my office sometime. We’ll have drinks and can catch up better that way, if you can find the time in your busy schedule of course.” The large male wouldn’t hold his breath. Riccardo had a house to run, Rafaele had ORG. Finding time would be a stretch for both of them but the offer still stood. Rafaele was in his office most of the time anyway when he wasn’t handling something personally in the feild.

April 4th was, of course, a Big Important Deal, which meant that Columbina was, of course, present at the party.

"Party." It was a family gathering, she was pretty sure that by all reasonable definitions that could not possibly be a party. Maybe if you had some saucy romance with someone from one of the other families, like her brother, but she, at best, had Millie, and Millie was probably busy.

At least the gardens were nice. As dramatically as vampirically possible, she draped herself on a bench, fanning herself with a pretty, lacy hand fan that, in her opinion, just enhanced how amazing she looked. surely someone would be around to appreciate it.

Eloisa knew her schedule inside and out. She took pride in her little front because it was the only thing she could show for herself; the only proof that her existence was worthwhile. She enjoyed what she did, and took pride in giving someone a new look -- either through a new style, or a work over to get them to talk. Whatever the family needed, Eloisa was ever eager to assist.

"Next week should be perfect," she agreed, confident she could convince Franny to cover, and maybe Addy to come help. She would do whatever she had to do to ensure she didn't have to put it off or cancel. Perhaps she'd take her sisters out shopping tomorrow? She'd need to find some new clothes for the country side trip. Small heels, he'd said... Well, she'd do her best, and bring a few things to go with some of her finest heels.

Her eyes all but sparkled with pleasure. Even if their nights consisted of nothing but stargazing and walks through the countryside, that would be more than fine -- perhaps he'd regale her with some more tales of his adventures at sea, or as a valiant knight; perhaps she'd entertain him with some stories of her own -- she certainly had some, though they were likely less grand as his own. And if nothing else, perhaps she could get him to share some of his favorite stories, and she could sketch out some.

Eloisa savored the kiss he gave her. Her eyes closed, and she leaned fully against him, just happy to be there with him. She had little interest in the rest of the party, little interest in the happenings inside. She highly doubted either God or Disciple had any interest in someone like her, so she highly doubted she'd be missed by anyone. Romeo, she knew, had duty and important things.... but stealing a few more kisses beneath the tree was just fine by her. Her hands slipped gently around his shoulder and neck, holding onto him while she enjoyed his scent, and the warmth of his mouth upon hers.

A night to remember, surely.

—-
It was true that Riccardo Milliner was not a man known for his poetry or passion. However, Rainier could draw out true depth of feeling from the vampires iron heart with absolute ease. It wasn't something he'd known he possessed, but it came so easily with the red-head. Hearing the laughter spill from pleased him, causing his typically stoic expression to slip into a smile. "Dass sie so viel Glück haben sollten. Lassen Sie sie aufstehen und Ihre Schönheit selbst sehen." The kiss upon his cheek had his chest tighten, and a happy sigh escaped his lips. Slipping his arm about his waist, he gave it a squeeze, more than happy to have him close. Let him have him on his arm -- there was nothing more to hide now.. "Immer, mein Mond. Immer."

Moving through the garden, he hardly noticed any others -- not Acheron, nor Columbina, nor anyone else. He was content just to drift through and find a bite to eat with his lover. Though his eyes did sweep over the vampires they passed, making note on whether or not he had any business to conduct with them, or if any were associated with the Milliners, most everyone seemed caught up in their meal, their thoughts, or their own personal conversations. That was just as well for him.

When Rain pointed out a dark haired mortal, it was perfectly fine for Ricco. "A fine choice," he concurred. "It would be nice to hunt him down together, but there's not much thrill when the game walks right up to you with their throats bared," he mused with a smile.

He guided Rainier up to the stranger, who was so ensorcelled by whatever ability that there would be no running, no fleeing, no fuss, no fight. He was indeed a find choice, and would feed both of them well. "Take your pick, beloved -- wrist, neck, somewhere else?" Already his fangs were present, the Beast within alert knowing that food was so near. While it would not be a battle or fight, the creature desired actual sustenance that liquor or passion couldn't saste.

Yayoi

Riccardo’s own life after he’d gone to take on the role he inherited had left him little time for anything else. The Puttanesca was a volatile lot, and they needed to be handled quite firmly, if only for the family’s survival if nothing else. The unruly vampires of his house were often so passionate about their little vendettas, but it was up to the Elder to ensure that those vendettas were never against the wrong people. Add to that the overseeing of every job, the movement of money, the hits, the exchange of information, and on and on the duties continued, a never-ending and relentless deluge that would leave a weaker man gasping for air as he drifted away in the flood obligation. But Riccardo was not weak. He had never been. He knew what needed to be done, and he always followed through.

His position left him so little time for anything else, though who did he really need to make time for? Not his wife, for she was long turned to dust. Not his children, for they wanted nothing to do with him, and for the most part, the feeling was mutual. Not anybody at these ridiculous family gatherings because if he wanted to see any of them, he’d simply make a ******** appointment like usual and speak to them on his own terms. So, a social life. What was that again? Clearly, it was not something that he missed.

And yet here he was. If there had been one person he had ever met in his unlife that he could see himself making time for, it was Rafaele Machiavelli. They had been through so much together, and though the connection they had formed what felt like a millennia ago was only a tenuous thing now, it was still enough to draw Riccardo toward him, to turn an icy blue gaze toward stormy grey, if only to exchange a few pleasantries before they both went back about whatever other business they had.

Ah friends. Even now, after all this time, Rafaele considered them friends. For some reason, that almost seemed to warm the Elder's gaze as he took another long drag off of his cigarette.

“Amici lo è allora, prima di oggi e oltre.” He assented with a nod and a raise of his glass as if in salute. He meant the words just as much as the Machiavelli did, and smiled into his glass as he took a small sip and turned his back to the bar, leaning back against it while staring out into the crowd once more.

“Ah, I suppose you did. I am just not used to compliments, you see. I presumed you must have meant somebody else” He cupped the bottom of his drink in one hand, with the other lifted to brush a thumb along its edge, his tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth. “I suppose it is nice to hear that somebody still thinks it so.”

A silence seemed to fall between them then. Not awkward by any means. They were just two men enjoying a drink while being in the near vicinity of one another. Idly, Riccardo did wonder why Rafaele would turn up tonight. Was it just because of their Disciple’s return? It seemed more likely that he was here on his own business, perhaps a lead of some kind that he was following up on. Well now, that was an exciting thought, wasn’t it? The head of Puttanesca shifted his glance that way, catching the tail end of a smile just before it melted away, the other man's attention was obviously divided.

“Of course. I would expect no less.” He replied, but something in the way Rafaele laughed drew Riccardo’s attention more fully on him again, soon enough to catch sight of the roguish charm the Puttanesca had known him for. It had not changed. He seemed to have not changed at all, save for perhaps some added muscle and the faintest hint of aging in his eyes, the only place where that might be visible among their kind.

“Indeed. Though it seems less like a house and more like a temple. Tell me, how many worshippers do you have these days?” It was still just a joke, some light banter between old friends. And yet Riccardo was at least somewhat curious of the answer, a rough chuckle parting his own lips next. “I’m afraid I did not keep up with the routine. My strength, fortunately for me, comes from age. No working out required.” Riccardo had once been a much more bulky physical sort himself, though time had certainly changed that. He was much leaner now, though lithe muscles still slid beneath his skin when he moved. One would be silly to presume he could not hold his own in a fight. In fact, he couldn’t think of any fight he hadn’t won, in the past or present.

“It is a pity, isn’t it?” He let out a sigh, the half-cocked smile slipping as he gave his head a slight shake. “Those were times I will never forget. Sometimes I even wonder what may have happened had I refused my station and stayed with it.” More so now than he did in the past, his mind drifting back to the glory days of his time hunting down Cappadocians with Rafaele and the others.

The offer of a drink was an unexpected one. It was not often, if ever that Riccardo was given a genuine invitation to spend time with anyone outside of business meetings. It was…nice? The idea of actually sitting down, just the two of them, and conversing like they used to.

“If you, of all people, are able to make time in your schedule for me, I am sure I can do the same for you.” It would be tricky but for Rafaele? Yes. Yes, he would do it.

There was a special sort of comfort he felt having Gigi standing so close beside him after all these years, a warmth at the brush of an arm, the sound of her voice, the scent of her perfume. Everything about the strong woman next to the Machiavelli made him feel a sort of dreamy invincibility. That this time it was forever. This time no one could tear them from one another, derail their future onto paths they'd never meant to walk without one another. His calm grey eyes shifted to her face as she spoke, to those rich brown eyes, the feeling of that hand on his arm and the tightening of her grip bringing a smile to his face. "You know what my heart desires, mia cara." His voice soft and low, only for her.

Edon had never had strong feelings about the family dinner one way or the other. In all honesty he was surprisingly relieved by the absence of it. He'd always preferred open mingling. You covered more ground that way, touched base with more families and had more time to enjoy the fruits of the clans labors. Being stuck at a table full of strategically placed individuals, some of whom used it as a torture device, was uncomfortable at best and homicidal at worst. He would much rather spend as much time with present company as he was able instead of watching the wasps sting one another over the carcass that was old grudges and harbored wounds. The Elder seemed to pause as his gaze caught sight of a couple familiar figures, his brother and, as lowkey as possible, his brother's informant.

Edon did his best to remain neutral, to move his eyes quickly off the informant and onto other guests before returning back to his brother. Apparently tonight was the time and place for another family tradition. A hunt. What else would the Koenig be doing here? Celebrating April 4th? He doubted it. Yet before he could find an excuse to push himself through the crowd and greet Rafaele he spotted the Machiavelli at the bar with the head of the Puttanesca. Perfect. Raf was high profile enough, eyes were on him, and now he was gathering more attention in the friendly company of what basically amounted to the head of the mafia. He could feel the headache brewing, nibbling at his temples. His entire family seemed to be losing their minds. He waved a waiter down and took a glass of champagne, placing his now empty glass on the tray. The waiter stood, offering the contents of the tray to Gigi as well while Edon closed his eyes and contemplated deeply on how he was going to manage the attempts at infiltration upon their household. The Puttanesca were coming in at all angles. At least a couple Machiavelli seemed unscathed by their advances so far. As far as he knew anyway. "What do you say to a dance? I find it suddenly too crowded to think straight in here."

------------

Armando mulled over the kiss Santino had given him before they'd joined the rest of the Giovanni out in the main foyer, he could still feel it lingering there, making him feel a few degrees hotter the longer he dwelt on it. The male's comment about not taking up his time at the club was also rolling around in his thoughts. Truth be told he would have preferred it if Santino did take up his time, he'd happily trade any of his clients for a little time with the Hidalgo instead. He wanted to wrap an arm around the smaller male, pull him into his side, but he was too nervous, too uncomfortable. He hated feeling this awkward. Hated not doing what he wanted to do. He was probably just being overly cautious. Marcello more than likely didn't care what he did. He could just stop. Stop worrying so much. Stop giving a ******** what his family thought about him. About what he did for a living. And now about Santino. He chuckled and looked down at the male beside him, cocking a brow playfully. "Oh? And what would you like to do with all our newfound spare time, hmm?" Turquoise eyes shimmered, full of a good nature that wasn't the most natural personality trait among the Rossellini. Unfortunately, that look vanished as quickly as it came, his gaze froze just over Santino's shoulder while he breathed a word so quietly it was nearly silent. "******** src="https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/1024169444311834674/1121135398530338917/KinuRossilliniUC.png" class="user_img" alt="User Image" />

Diego was fashionably late, as always. It took time to look this ******** delicious and delicious he was. Not to mention he'd been off galavanting who knew where doing who knew what for over a year now and just managed to make it home.. a week ago. Unbeknownst to the rest of the Rossellini. But if anyone had hoped his trip would have enlightened him in any way, other than adding new carnal pursuits to his little black book of deviancy and maybe he now knew a fancy way to prepare a mimosa, they would have been sorely disappointed. The vampire stole a glass of champagne off a tray and blew a kiss to the waiter, mouthing the words 'Call me hotpants' before he prowled into the fray like an elegant cat on the hunt for... well nothing good. He tilted the glass to his lips and made an appreciative sound as the liquid slid over his tongue and down his throat. Finally. Wealthy people alcohol again. He missed the taste of money. Not that he'd been slumming it by any means.

He intended on getting toasty, on indulging, on... well hold on a second. Wasn't that Armando? "ARMANDO?" His voice cut through the crowd so easily it was startling, the tone far too intimate to be addressing family. Like the other male had slipped a hand down his pants and was busy trying to find some lost treasure. In fact the room had gone silent for a split second before things picked up again. "My darling.... wait, what are you again? Ah! Yes. Cousin? Cousin, right? Pah, who can remember anyway." He waved a hand dismissively before his face, apparently finding familial ties a chore to remember in general. "Not that I'm complaining, but have you noticed how most everyone around here is so tangled up in themselves and each other that it's just one big humpfest? I mean the blatant eye ******** alone. I've got shivers. Speaking of humpfest..." His striking gaze landed upon Santino and his demeanor shifted, his expression boldly flirtatious. "Perdio che bella creatura. Armando, tu cane. How did you manage such a vision made flesh? Forgive me, so rude. I'm easily distracted by attractive things. I'm Diego Rossellini. Armando's... cousin?. Probably cousin. Charmed." He winked and looked back up at Armando, raising his eyebrows several times suggestively. "Having fun, bello?"

Armando, at this point, looked like he wanted to crawl inside out and slide himself under a door somewhere but he stood firm, his gaze frozen on the other Rossellini. He couldn't help the crimson that crawled across the bridge of his nose, luckily his fur was so dark it was hard to tell he was blushing. He wouldn't have been shocked if Diego had tried out a move on Santino right in front of him, but shockingly he refrained. Good. For some reason the thought pissed him off. He wasn't normally the jealous or protective type, not when it came to a casual fling, but maybe there was more to the way he felt about Santino that he wasn't fully acknowledging yet. Also, how the hell did Diego know they were even involved in any way other than friendly? Was it that obvious? "Diego. I expected you'd be off terrorizing Hemlock now that you're back. Decide to slum it with the family instead?" The Rossellini laughed, the sound full of life, almost warm. "Oh, please. And miss the high quality entertainment and beefcake fest? You've gone mad. Why would I be anywhere else tonight? I mean the Machiavelli's alone. Those images are going right in the bank." He tapped his temple, finishing his glass of champagne in a quick flourish before he straightened his elegant dress shirt, which lay open down his chest and abdomen to expose his bare flesh shamelessly, and gave a weary sigh. "Alas, I suppose I should spread myself..." Armando frowned slightly, his expression bewildered as Diego corrected his statement. "I mean my presence. Heavens, you're dirty. You should really work on that. Tsktsk." Diego turned to head back into the crowd, fixated on the waiter again. "It was good to see you cousin, and you as well bellissimo. Enjoy yourselves too much, OK? Kisses." With that he was off.

Armando gave a sigh of relief and shook his head, his turquoise gaze trained on the spot where his cousin had vanished. "He's... different. Still a sadist like the rest of the Rossellini. He's just better at hiding it." He wrinkled his nose and looked down at the male beside him. "Should we take his advice and have too much fun?" The vampire smirked, doing everything in his power not to brush the hair from Santino's eyes in that moment. Diego wasn't wrong. He was handsome. It was hard not to notice and Armando could easily feel himself slipping into something more than just a casual fling. There was something else there. Something warm. Something he liked beyond just the physical.

The appearance of the Disciple with the god of Vampires beside him had the Methuselah at a loss. So, that had been the source of power he'd felt thrumming through the building, lighting every nerve ending up like wildfire. A dark, primal chaotic energy. It was unnerving to be in the same room with power like that and wildly fascinating as well. He'd be glad when it abated. The renewed strength the clan once again felt was like taking a deep breath after holding it for ages, a reawakening of the senses. Finally, the clan was back where they were meant to be, whole, restored. After Augustus's speech Amadeo was busy keeping an eye on everything, a not unusual behavior given his years watching over the estate while Augustus slept. But his silent watch was interrupted by the steady hiss of his wraith, he could feel her tiny fingers winding into his clothing which he found unsettling, considering she rarely touched him. Something was very wrong. His eyes suddenly darted about the room, trying to uncover the source of her abrupt and insistent warning and the cold grip of unease that had wrapped its talons along his spine. It didn't take him long to find the culprit. Rafaele Machiavelli.

It was imperceptible, his expression shift from calm and collected to guarded. In fact the expressions looked almost identical. But he was. Walled up fast and hard. He pulled his gaze away to scan the room again, carefully picking out face after face, someone yelling a name across the room broke his focus until Acheron began to approach. The timing. He'd nearly forgotten how fickle fortune could sometimes be. And then that fortune turned again into his favor, or so he thought, as the youth decided not to approach, merely waving. So long as he didn't acknowledge him it was an easy gesture to dismiss. He could have been waving at anyone. Amadeo wasn't ignoring him to be cruel. With Rafaele in the room this was now about survival. About keeping the scent out of the hounds nose. A hard, near impossible task as it stood. Suddenly he wondered if his reasons were enough, enough to risk so much. No, they were. He wasn't a fool. He knew what he was doing when he picked that baby up off the street. He would see it through. They just had to remain undetected long enough.



Konstantin continued to scan the room, his expression calm, detached. As if he were simply another bored patron waiting for someone to show up that he was interested in speaking with. This wasn't an inaccurate observation however. He was doing just that. The minutes crawled by but he remained relaxed, unbothered by the lack of obvious leads. He could hear Rafaele and... who was that? Ah, Riccardo. The head of Puttanesca. He knew the two had history. He wasn't going to think about that s**t right now. He stopped listening to them after they decided to make plans, what they did was irrelevant to his goal. He had a job to do.

Stepping forward, about to head into the lounge, he spotted an unassuming young male pass just in front of him. Something about him made the Koenig pause and, as he was about to dismiss the feeling, the young vampire waved. He waved at Amadeo. Konstantin's demeanor remained neutral, no hint of excitement or shift in energy. He simply turned and walked the other way and out of Amadeo's line of sight. He could see the Methuselah across the room. He was looking at Raf. His guard was up. Konstantin waited until the male had his attention drawn elsewhere before he stepped in and bumped into Acheron. "Oh, sorry man... that was my fault. You all right?" His voice was relaxed though laced through with a hint of embarrassement. He smiled awkwardly and rubbed the back of his neck, his voice friendly if not a little nervous sounding. Like he knew he'd made a fool of himself. "I should have been paying attention but there's so much going on. I guess you get used to it at some point, right?"

Matteo fight the urge to n** at that thumb as it passed over his lip. Tilting his head ever so slightly as Nico took ahold of his chin. The blond melted into that gentle kiss. A pleased sound escaping him as he reciprocated in kind. If he could he would have stayed there all night enjoying the older vampire’s kisses. Others be damned. He just couldn’t get enough of them. Biting his bottom lip as Nico pulled away Matteo shot him a fanged grin. “It’s not for them to watch silly. It’s to make them go away.” No matter how showy Matteo was, no matter how flashy or eccentric he might dress for attention. Letting others watch the as not in his wheelhouse of interests. No, what he and Nico did was not for others to see. “Better yet you could always put a show on for me, hm?” He lifted his eyebrows suggestively.

But unfortunately it seemed as if their evening together was going to be constantly interrupted. Which he supposed was to be expected given who they were and where they were. Finding a moments peace anywhere here would be a difficult task but one Matteo could put his mind to and get a bit creative if he wanted. He almost heaved a heavy sigh as someone finally emerged from the shadows. A tall, striking figure who seemed almost ethereal in the moon’s illumination of the night around them. The way the stranger spoke was smooth, like silk with the softest of purrs on the back end. Honey brown eyes glowed in the moonlight as they swept over the newly appeared companion.

He could sense a tenseness in Nico. Curious. But as he studied the other male the Anclla’s voice merely confirmed who it was for the Della Passaglia. While perhaps he hasn’t the quickest to put two and two together and connect the dots it eventually settled in. He had only seen paintings and heard stories after all. So the recognition was slow to come. He did note, however, that Nico’s grip on him seemed tighter. As if Matteo might float away from him.

The Neonate’s attention turning back to Augustus as the question was asked. A warm, bright smile coming to his soft features as the charm kicked in. It was hard to switch off when it permeated his entire being for hours on end a night. Even involuntarily it switched on. The hazards of always having to perform, to be the best little host that one could be, to keep that client list going and the money rolling in. But it was also in his nature to be the brightest little golden ray of sunshine that one could meet. It was what drew people to him. And why he was so popular at LUX.

His eyes sparkled as he regarded the Disciple. However, unlike most, he had no reservations about the older vampire. It wouldn’t be the first time he chatted up an older, more powerful man so he was quite comfortable in the situation. Even if Nico was squirming just a little. He tilted his head just slightly, golden locks illuminated by moonlight falling over those bright eyes before he swept it out of his face.

“Good evening.” It was curious, however. Matteo didn’t think they were two of much import that the Disciple would want to approach them. And while they were both heirs that was little reason to suspect that the Disciple knew as much as he had been asleep. But then assumptions weren’t always onthe nose either. “Oh yes, very much so.” There was a content purr in his voice. Oh yes, he had been enjoying himself. Well, at least once they had managed to crawl out of the mansion and get some fresh air. He was feeling much better now that he was out of those stuffy rooms

“Although…..” Here it came. “I’m sure the party would be more boppin’ if an investment in blinky lights and better music was made. I could certainly lend some expertise in that department.” Oh, he was not shy at all. Not even the fact that he was speaking to their Disciple, an ancient vampire, none the less, could diminish his cheerful and chatty nature. But he was forgetting himself. “Oh, but are you enjoying your evening?” Surely the Disciple must be, but then again if he was out here. He was genuinely curious, an attentiveness to the other male emerging as he waited for his reply. Still noting the firm hold Nico had on him, a slender hand coming up to soothingly brush against the other male’s hand that held onto him.

Matteo was oblivious to the fact that anything might be off. Or that perhaps he was a little bit more in over his head than he might realize. But he didn’t feel any unease or ill intentions, so he remained relaxed. Casual but with a sense to the other that he had his attention even if it were divided between Nico and Augustus at the moment. They were just having a pleasant conversation.