James was far too pleased with himself. The man having to sit back and watch as Lazarus questioned every statement that he had said, though his eyes had been bright with suspicion he knew he had managed to get his nephew's attention the moment he mentioned Ellie, the boy growling at him to stay away from his sister. Truly, he had no interest in Elain, the girl far too soft to be in their line of work and yet, there was still hope for her. The man had arranged an encounter for the woman, all he needed was an ounce of fear in the girl to fuel that into something much stronger, but for now, Lazarus was his priority. The boy was already entirely spiteful of the world, James merely needed to forge that into something he could use and he would start tonight.

Glancing at the small round table, he opted for the smaller dinner table rather than the large, Victorian style spread that adorned the other room. The table had been set, water glasses filled, the condensation coating the outside of those glasses and several wine bottles littered the table. He expected a comment from his nephew regarding his choice and yet, the taste would be phenomenal especially with what the cooks had planned for their evening meal. Allowing those green eyes to travel to the wall where the clock sat, he suspected his nephew to be here any minute, most likely beating Lisé here. He had been rather adamant she be on time tonight, he needed her here to show Lazarus that he had 'changed'. And in a sense he had, rather than keeping that damn woman locked away, he allowed her to roam freely, it wasn't as if she could get very far regarding their bond.

Yet, he can hardly help from clenching his jaw in infinite irritation. She was late and James had a sneaking suspicion she was going to arrive drunk even though he demanded she present her in a much suitable way. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he moves into the other room, retrieving that dark liquor and taking one long drawl straight from the bottle, he needed to calm that rage within him, the man needing to be on his best behavior to convince Lazarus, plus they had much heavier things to discuss. James hardly thought it was going to go well but he had significant proof, even if he had plans to ignore him, deny their relation, he was certain the boy would come around either way.

There's knocking at the front of those double doors, his heightened senses picking it up easily, before James puts the lid back on that bottle, straightening that immaculate gray suit. Easily strolling into that front room, he finds that one of his younger human maids had let Lazarus in already, the boy wearing those usual clothes. No, no that would not do. He would eventually have to give his nephew a lesson in appropriate clothing. "Good evening," he says smoothly, that half smile so adorning his lips as he falls into that cool facade. "I'm pleased you decided to join me, I have someone I want you to meet but she is running a little late," he explains excuses that pretty little human maid with a flick of his hand. "Perhaps we can start off with a drink or two? I'd be happy to show you my collection I mentioned last week," James says, gesturing with his hand to the other room.

He waits patiently until Lazarus moves into that room, the massive fireplace holding a crackling frame, two armchairs artfully placed on either side of the fire. Following Lazarus, he merely sidesteps him and reaches for those glasses, opening that glass cabinet that is littered with just about any liquor you can think of, most of them dating back from a time when James was young. Grabbing a brandy, he sets two glasses on that small round table in between the two chairs, popping the lid off, he pours two knuckle lengths worth of liquid in each glass before handing it to his nephew, "So, tell me Lazarus, what brought you and your sister to Sacrosanct?"