Sebastian Ellington-Aragona

His Royal Highness, Prince of Italy

He could hear the new frantic puttering of her heart, just as those vampiric senses caught each frenzied breath. Despite all appearances, there was a part of the Englishman that was still distinctly a predator, the very kind that saw nothing but prey in the young girl who clung to the railing of the building's rooftop. He ignored those insights altogether, however, his baritone voice reaching out to her as the Italian Prince leaned against the bar, allowing that distance between them despite the ever-present magnetism that seemed to exist naturally. A small, charming simper crossed his features as her feminine face turned to eye him intensely - that very stare Sebastian was all too accustomed to, the Incubus altogether willing to be admired. That almost thoughtful consideration to how the pair seemed eternally fated to run into one another was met with but a vague shrug of the Englishman's shoulders. It was, admittedly, quite the feat for their paths to intersect as much as they did. Sebastian, after all, rarely hunted upon the streets of Sacrosanct much anymore - those royal duties so frequently taking up the entirety of his attention, much less the ever-pressing demands of travel. Even so, it was that comment of ghosts that drew the vampire's attention away from those inner thoughts, that once warm simper all but dissipating in a mere matter of moments.

How very true those words were - and how they brought back memories to the surface that even he wished to forget. Ghosts were hardly an impossibility in a city all but teeming with magical life, he had found. Sebastian had never desired to come face to face with a medium of the dead and yet, she had all but thrust that very past he'd strived for years to put behind him in his face and the forefront of his mind all over again. The blue of his own irises turned downwards towards the glass in his hand, that liquor brought to his lips if only to savor on the flavor and the glimpse of escapism such a beverage might offer him, temporary though it was. How those very thoughts could sully his often unflappable mood - his gaze deviating from his glass only by the movement of Carolina's intoxicating physique. He watched in silence as she placed her own tumbler upon the table that separated them. Her free hands seemed to embrace her bare arms in a truly vulnerable gesture. He listened as the entirety of his name was echoed within her soprano voice - accompanied even with his husband's surname. Ah. So she knew. It was inevitable, really, that she would discover who he was. Anonomyinity no longer gave him any favors when his face was frequently plastered over gossip columns and filled the magazines at check-out stands. The Italian couple a continual point of media interest if only for their openly gay relationship, supernatural status, and indisputable good looks. To put it lightly, in the media's eyes, they sold...well.

Still, it was a shame to put a damper on their fun. Those very evenings he spent with Carolina so frequently walked the boundary of violating his marriage vows. With her knowledge of who he was, it was almost natural to assume she might, like the many others before her, cash in on that fleeting relationship for her own five minutes within the media spotlight. A soft breath left his lips, even despite the lightheartedness within her soprano voice. Her inquiry, however, prompted yet another shrug from his shoulders as the Englishman's gaze turned towards the city skyline. "Work." He responded, his explanation kept as purposefully vague as required of the Italian royal. That shift within the Prince was almost palpable - that metaphorical guard he put up between them now that his identity was known. It had become a necessity when the online world was filled to the brim with speculation, observations, and endless gossip. How much might she know? Beyond his marriage and status? Did it matter? Effortlessly, Sebastian turned the conversation back upon her, even if he knew the very answer to that question, at least in some regards. "And you? Why here when you have your swanky new flat in the West?"