The interaction I'd survived with the young red-headed vampire was a recent memory, stirring thoughts of vampiric blood and a sour taste in my mouth that I was growing accustomed to as I spent more time around vampires. The monolith who had tracked Isolt into my shop had attacked her, us, with rage that bordered stupidity and was vanquished with relative ease. It was clear in the brilliant blue of her eyes that the memory was near to her surface as well, tentatively pooling in that blue with tendrils of tension gently braiding whatever substance had already existed there. Intimacy, maybe. Both obvious to me and the hostess who had scampered off was the warmth that crackled like electrical wire between Isolt and Damon, lurking as if their affection were banished to solitary moments veiled with shadow. The affection was blatant in both of their eyes; their longing looks nothing I could have missed. I knew those gazes, and I knew them well enough to know I need not comment on it in any humorous fashion as it was clearly something kept under wraps.

As Isolt poured my drink, I seated myself unceremoniously in one of the chairs provided by their office. Damon's tone suggested the birth of curiosity and intrigue relating to just how I had met his crimson haired friend. Instead of taking the bait, I would only offer him a smirk as I leaned back in the chair comfortably, accepting my drink with a curt but polite thanks.

"I have enough employment opportunities without taking you up on this background checking offer. Besides," I drawled, taking a long sip of my drink, "I'm not entirely sure you would like my recruiting techniques."

Words aside, I settled in the chair to observe the continuing interaction between vampires. In their proverbial den I would have been uncomfortable lest it were not for the gentleness I had come to understand Isolt possessed. In the violent atmosphere of my shop, I had eagerly taken the role of protector while Isolt faced a demon that had reared it's severely ugly head that night. Had I been ignorant to her connection with my 'business' contact, Damon, I might have been hesitant to step in with such valor, but as it were... Isolt had been in harm's way, and it would have weighed heavily on my conscious (...don't be surprised) had I not stepped in to offer her my servitude in the form of a knight in not so shining armor. I was successful, literally banishing the demon that had attempted to penetrate her tower; what kind of savior would I be if I relented my protection of that night now when she so clearly wanted the incident kept secret.

Oh, secrets, secrets are no fun.

"Now that's unfair. That was a challenge. Now I simply must try it."

My words were offered in response to Damon's quip that I wouldn't be able to handle the blood. It was humorous really as surely it was something I would want to immediately remove from my system, but the joke was accepted with grace as it lightened the tension that had slowly crept its way into the room at Damon's inquisitive realization that Isolt and I knew one another. There had been the aftertaste of bourbon lingering in my mouth, but after his words I found myself snorting indignantly, only to wince as the burn of alcohol graced my throat and nose. Unamused, I raised a hand to pinch the bridge of my nose, quietly listening to Isolt's description of how we knew each other. This, too, I could accept but I was glad that I was preoccupied by a disturbance of my own creation as it was far easier to hide the way my eyebrow rose as the last words befell her lips.

"Sorry to disappoint," I began, sitting up a little straighter to raise my gaze to Damon's own, mischief beginning to gather there once more. "...But really, let me try that cake."