Malek Ackerman

You're my water. You're my wine.

An amused chortle escaped Malek's lips as they entered his home as Chizue tells him he hasn't been living. Turning to her, he notes the way her cheeks hold a flush from their mad dash, a rosy color all but engulfing her features. Grinning down at her broadly, he reaches a hand up to brush the strands of hair from her face. Not allowing to let his fingers linger on her skin, lest he decide she truly didn't need any water or let his less than gentlemanly persona rise to the surface and he whisk her away to his bedroom. Dropping his hand to his side, he takes up her hand again and tugs her along through the hallway, into the living room, to the kitchen and sitting her down at a bar stool. Glancing back only once, he notes how her eyes linger on the décor of his home and travel towards that immense fireplace that so adorned the room.

After depositing Chizue in a stool, he fishes out a glass from the cupboard before filling it with water and placing it in front of the Asian woman. Leaning forward, he places his elbows in the counter as he inspects the woman across from him, a half smile quirking on his lips, his eyes alight with humor and happiness. As he mentions Dorian's castle, he can see Chizue's interest pique momentarily. Giving her a small nod, "It's not here, but there certainly are some homes here that can almost rival it," he states amused, remembering the several large mansions that littered Sacrosanct. He had never seen a city with such wealth before. Perhaps it was the uncanny amount of supernatural creatures that inhabited the city. Being immortal or undead tended to be helpful in the aspect of "wealth", no doubt it helped the vampire accumulate money.

Shrugging the thought off, he returns his attention to Chizue only to notice she wouldn't look at the glass before her, instead her gaze was locked on the fireplace across the room. Certain there must be some sort of rodent or creature prowling through the ashes with how intent she was watching it, he turns his gaze towards the pit to find nothing. Arching a brow in question, when her chocolate eyes return to him, that ever present smile dancing upon her lips. Her next question has him pausing for a moment before Malek releases a roar of laughter. Nearly everything this woman did was unexpected, he could not figure her out, nor did he mind it much. He rather enjoyed her nature. "If you drink your water, I'll light it for you. How does that sound?" He bargains with her, entirely amused at her request.

Pushing to a standing position he walks around the bar, snatching her water glass and reaching down to engulf her hand with his once more. "Since you seem rather interested in the fireplace, let's move to the couch; there's a much better view," he grins down at her happily. Tugging her to a standing position, Malek leads her back into that living room before sweeping a hand out at the sectional before them. Waiting until she's seated, he hands her the glass of water again, "Drink," he orders once more before turning and making his way to the fireplace. Crouching down, he retrieves several logs and balances them against one another. Reaching for the newspaper, he crumples several sheets of paper and scatters it below the logs. "Chizue, I hope you're drinking that water," he calls over his shoulder though he doesn't turn around to check.

Pausing for a moment, his gray eyes search for the lighter that he so frequently loses. Frowning, it takes him several second to locate it. Snatching it up, he lights the paper below the logs, leaning down even lower to blow gently on the flame. When the logs light, he rocks back on his heels watching the fire for but a moment. Satisfied it would continue to burn, he sets the lighter down, noting his fingers are covered in soot from shoving the paper beneath the logs. Malek nearly wipes his hands off on his pants but thinks better of it and instead lets his hands hang loosely at his side before pushing to a standing position. Turning back to the woman who now lounged on his furniture, he moves towards her gracefully, planting himself right next to her. Glancing down at the glass in her hand, he arches a brow, "I told you to drink all of it," he laughs, reaching a finger up a finger to draw on her face with his sooty hands. Chuckling, infinitely amused, "I suppose that's what you get for not listening to me," he beams at her another laugh escaping his lips.

You're my whiskey. From time to time.