The door closed behind her. Magenta looked around to see a well accomodated apartment, outfitted in pre-Edwardian furniture and carpeted with a dark red Afghan carpet, hand dyed in shades of scarlet, indigo and carmine. A Waterbury parlor Clock chimed eleven times, as Vlad poured her a sherry. A door partly open was to the bedroom, Magenta could see the light in there flickering, as candles cast dark shadows on the walls. There was a soft frangrance of yalang ylang in the air, Magenta knew the relaxing qualities of this potent aphrodisiac.

On the wall was a tapestry, detailing a huge battle scene, with a dragon flying above. From the turrent of a castle stood a tall woman, dressed in medieval garb, who seemed to be beckoning the dragon...

Vlad emerged from his room, striking in a black and scarlet kimino, with a glass of sherry in each hand.. Magenta could see that he was no longer distracted, no longer self absorbed, but focused singularly and uncannily on her, and only her. As she sipped the sherry, she looked into his eyes, and felt a warm tingling around the inside of her elbows and the back of her ears.