It's the unspoken truth of humanity, that you crave subjugation. The bright lure of freedom diminishes your life's joy in a mad scramble for power, for identity. You were made to be ruled. You will always kneel.
It is really so hard to believe that a Dark Hunter's tastes run to the extreme? Maybe he was dabbling too much in the supernatural atmosphere - after all, he did have ideas that many of his kind would find 'disgusting' or exotic. Still, he finds himself leaning back into the chair at one of the many tables of the Voodoo room with an amber drink on the table before him, his swarthy eyes scanning across the room in a lazy manner. It was place that seemed to fit his tastes and he hoped, would also fit the tastes of some unwitting supernaturals. So far he had been unlucky in his endeavors to capture one to do his experiments on. They were a strange breed, most of them, and while he had managed to kill many of them in his relatively short time as a Hunter, he had also learned that not all things need be wasted. The Council was old and as such had old fashioned beliefs that he preferred to ignore. It was time to update them, to try something new.
It could be because he was a megalomaniac. The need for more power drew him like a moth to flame. A Hunter was only as skilled as their powers allowed and his was a fortunate one. If he so desired he could manifest a copy of himself right at the bar to fool the bartender who so diligently looked out for his customers. It would be an entirely different entity but still governed by the same whims as Drago and would last for as long as he deemed it necessary. It was the perfect distraction in a hunt - make the prey think he was somewhere else when he was right behind them.
A tingle starts in his fingers as he lifts his drink up for a generous swallow, his eyes moving instinctively towards the door to catch sight of the Japanese girl who enters the Room. She is lovely in her own exotic way but that is not what catches his attention. No, that is saved for the burning inside of him that indicates she is something different. Something inhuman. And that makes his lips twitch in a satisfied smile, prey finally in sights. It is about time, he thinks, watching her as she moves closer to him. Maybe she intended to go to the bar, maybe not, either way Drago blocks her access as he turns in his seat and leans his legs out to block her way with a fiendish grin.
"Hello, dear. Care to join me? On me, of course," he indicates with a sweep of his hand towards the empty chair across from him, his voice smooth and sultry. Come, prey, let the predator have his game.