[WoD] Air on the G String (complete)

[Sansa]

"Emilie!" Sansa hollered over her shoulder at her flatmate's closed door. "Where is - "

"Mon cher, j'ai accroché vers le haut ce morceau d'ordures!" Emilie tore open her door and peered out from under her tousled blonde locks at her friend. "It is in your wardrobe. Mon dieu! You tossed it on the sofa when you came home an hour ago. I'm not here to pick up after you, vous fille malpropre!" She clucked her tongue, shook her head disapprovingly, and disappeared inside her room once more. Sansa could hear the bloke she was with chuckling, and Emilie's high pitched laughter soon joined his.

She allowed herself a theatrical sigh, then retrieved her woolen coat from her wardrobe. She hadn't meant to leave it out, but in her excitement she must have forgotten. Didn't mean that Emilie had the right to tell her off. In French, no less, with a guy within earshot. It was just as well Sansa hadn't seen who it was, she would be mortified every time she saw him if she knew he'd heard Emilie's little tirade.

Sansa slung a scarf around her neck and pulled her long brown hair into a messy ponytail. Making a face in the mirror, she quickly pulled out the rubber band and smoothed her hair into a much sleeker ponytail. He was going to see her, and even though she was in a hurry she wanted to look as good as she could manage. Bollocks! She caught a glance at the clock next to her bed and quickly cast about for her violin case and coat.

She wanted to make a good impression, and being late rarely made one look good. Rodermark wanted to hear her play the violin tonight, and she was scatterbrained at the idea he actually wanted to see her again. Sansa ran out the door of the flat, forgetting to lock it behind her.

[Gabriel Rodermark]

In truth, there was no rush. The black cab that had been sitting outside of Sansa's flat had been waiting for some time now, yet the driver had spared her the embarrassment of his honking the horn at her lateness. As she blustered into the car, his broad smile reflected in the rear-view mirror. “Sloane Square, love?” Without waiting for the breathless Sansa to reply, he began to drive.

Sloane Street, Knightsbridge. Home to some of the worlds most famous fashion boutiques, it's name had become synonymous with the young upper class, who pay thousands of pounds per square foot to lease its properties. A short walk from the likes of Maria Grachvoge and Mont Blanc, Cadogan Place is among its most sought after residential areas – and so it would come as no surprise, then, that it was here that Gabriel Rodermark had chosen to live.

The cab pulled to a stop outside a typical red-brick Chelsea building. The sound of night-time conversation and the delicious smell of Thai food drifted down the street from La Perla, while young women – treating the pavement like a catwalk - paraded elegantly by the doorman of Cadogan Place. The driver smiled in the mirror once again. “Here we are. Enjoy your evenin'...”

[Sansa]

"Thanks..." Sansa dug in her pocket for the fare but the driver waved her off.

"No, love, just 'ave a good time." He tipped his hat to her in the mirror and Sansa flushed and scrambled out of the cab. Violin case clutched in one hand, she found herself on the sidewalk. There was a bit of slush on the ground from the last snowfall, and she carefully picked her way around a puddle towards the doorman.

In her drab coat and sensible shoes Sansa stood out like a thrush in a flock of canaries. She was wearing dark tights against the cool winter air, a knee length red skirt and a white blouse. Tucking a loose lock of hair behind her ear she approached the doors.

"I'm here t' see Gabriel Rodermark. He's expectin' me?"

[Gabriel Rodermark]

The doorman nodded. “Go right on in... Mr. Rodermark's apartment is on the top floor.”

As Sansa stepped inside, there was a ping. The elevator had just arrived the ground floor, and out of it emerged a young couple who smiled almost apologetically at Sansa as they passed her by. Inside the lift there were only eight buttons, all numbered. Logically Gabriel had to be on floor eight. Soft strings played over the speakers as the lift travelled upwards, while Sansa was all but forced to confront the image of herself in the mirrors that surrounded her. When the elevator stopped, it opened out into a short corridor. At one end, there was an expensive looking door with the number eight nailed to it. At the other, there was a fire exit.

[Sansa]

More nervous than before, Sansa's heart practically hammered from inside her chest. Her comfort zone far behind her, she stepped out of the lift and into the hall. "Number eight," she muttered, licking her suddenly dry lips and forcing herself forward and towards the door.

There was nothing about it that seemed forboding, but the point of no return loomed close. She considered beating a hasty retreat, but soon realized that it would be impossible to do without making a bigger fool of herself. Gabriel would have been notified by the doorman of her arrival.

Sansa gathered her scant courage and knocked lightly on the door. Her body was wound tightly, held an unwilling captive to the 'fight or flight' impulses that coursed through her nervous system. Nervous system. Ha. She knocked again, a little louder.

[Gabriel Rodermark]

Gabriel was prompt in receiving his guest and greeted Sansa warmly.

“Let me take your coat,” he smiled and motioned ahead of himself, into the apartment proper.

The interior of the suite was minimalistic, yet here and there items with character stood out: an old desk here, an unusual figurine there, and of course his walls were adorned with a number of prints and paintings. With the blinds drawn, the lounge was dark and yet warm, the subdued lights casting shadows against the pale walls. Two soft leather sofas were the centre piece of the room, curled around a low wooden table.

“Come, sit. Tell me... how have you been since we last spoke?”

Again, Rodermark smiled, as he neatly hung Sansa's snow-covered jacket up to dry.

[Sansa]

Her anxiety disappeared as he smiled, and Sansa exhaled softly. "I've been well - spent some time up in Liverpool with some mates from back home." She unwound her scarf from around her neck and handed it to her host who tucked it away with her coat.

She looked about the place as she made her way to the couch he'd indicated, sitting finally on the edge of the seat, her violin case across her knees. "And how have you been?" Sansa smiled up at Gabriel as he came over to sit as well.

[Gabriel Rodermark]

Sitting only a shuffle away from Sansa, I began to study her, carefully. I wondered if her bruises had healed, if she was at all concerned as to where they had come from – and, more worryingly, if she had remembered anything untoward about the night of the attack. I suppose that if that were the case, she would have politely declined my invitation to meet again. It was little over a week since the incident at the Barbican. To say that things were running smoothly would have been a lie. Fortunately, I had long ago become a master of such deceptions.

“Bogged down in paperwork, I'm afraid. Back to work as usual,” I rolled my eyes and shook my head, casually brushing away the question as quickly as it had been asked. We were all smiles, the way that friends are when they first meet after time apart – so pleased to see one another, little laughs here and there.

“Where are my manners... can I get you something to drink? Something to warm you up?”

[Sansa]

"Ah, sure. Some tea would do me good." She grinned as he excused himself to procure some tea, and settled back on the sofa. The soft leather was as rich as anything she'd felt.

Sansa ran her fingers over the leather beside her, and then sat up more properly. Unfastening the clasps on the side of her violin case she took out the bow and resin, preparing for her little recital that would come soon enough.

[Gabriel Rodermark]

Fortunately for Sansa, I was a considerate Kindred and routinely purchased foodstuffs, in the event that a mortal should stop by. I have to confess, also, that I still retained some appreciation for the finer cuisines – certain smells, in particular, were fantastic and triggered many memories from years gone by to flourish in my mind. A spoon clinking against the side of a porcelain mug, even the smell of the hot tea was enough to lure me down memory lane.

Returning to the lounge, I found Sansa already readying her violin. I set the tea down in front of her and leant forward a little, eyes narrowing as I looked over the instrument. “I hope the Browns didn't mind my stealing you away for the evening...”

[Sansa]

She looked up from examining the strings as he re-entered the room. "Oh, no. I usually have evenings off. Mr. Brown is determined to 'get to know' his own children, so I have to scoot off so they can have quality time." Sansa flushed lightly, "If you hadn't called I'd just be sitting at home with a book."

She carefully replaced the violin in its case, setting it to the side of her on the couch and reaching for the tea. "Oh, its lovely, thank you." She sipped again, allowing the warmth to permeate to her core.

[Gabriel Rodermark]

“I see... and what else do you do in your leisure time?” I asked, finding my eyes somewhat distracted by the instrument sat between us. Carefully, I tilted the case towards me and glanced up at her. I knew that some musicians could be protective of their instruments, so didn't want to steal the violin away without permission. “Would be alright if I took a closer look?”

[Sansa]

"Oh yes." She sat her cup down and took the violin out of its case. "It isn't a <a href=http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stradivarius>Strad</a>, or anything like that." Sansa grinned, "Just don't spill anything on it."

She handed it to Gabriel, who took it almost reverently. "As far as my 'leisure time' is concerned, I mostly read. I do some drawing, but I'm more enthusiastic than talented. I like to watch football, and I go out clubbing with Emilie about once a month." She shrugged, watching Gabriel as he turned the violin over in his hands.

[Gabriel Rodermark]

“A musician and an artist, I'm impressed.”

Taking the violin carefully in both hands, I turned the instrument over, tilting it slowly back and forth. I was beginning to think that Jude had purposefully chosen to bring the girl to my party, knowing that I would find interest in her. Kindred of my clan were renowned for embracing those with a talent or passion for the arts, and it seemed that Sansa had both. The interest in football, I thought, I could overlook. It was a caveman's game, and didn't seem to sit right with her character – or at least not the image of her that I was formulating in my mind.

“I used to think that I was a tremendous artist... I was terribly arrogant,” I smiled in spite of myself. “I still dabble now and then, but only a little.”

As I examined the violin further, a thought sprung to mind. I wasn't usually one to flaunt the connections that my long-life afforded me, but in this case I couldn't resist, just to see the reaction it garnered. “You know, I have a friend in London who owns a genuine Stradivarius. You may have heard of her... Viktoria Mullova? She owns the Jules... Falk, I think.”

[Sansa]

Sansa's mouth dropped open. "Viktoria Mullova!? You know her?"

Viktoria was a Russian violinist who had defected from Soviet Russia in the early 1980s. "That's incredible." She sank back into the couch, as if she could no longer hold herself upright. "And the Jules Falk. I've heard the Joachim - it's here at the Royal Academy of Music. But Viktoria Mullova on the Jules Falk... and you wanted to hear me play?"

She clutched at her heart in mock disbelief, "I'm less than a beginner compared to her genius. Her recording of the Brahmns Violin Sonatas..."

[Gabriel Rodermark]

“Perhaps we might take in one of her performances in the future,” I replied with a cool smile, much pleased by the look of awe offered. It was my connection to the incestuous arts community of London that had lead me to meeting Viktoria. All of the arts mingled with one another freely, and always their gatherings would be attended generously by the Toreador. That we should have become acquainted was an unexpected yet pleasant surprise.

Yet... there was something just as fascinating about hearing the young woman before me play, as their was witnessing a performance of a virtuoso. Performance was like a bearing of the soul. It exposed so many emotions and such passion. Music, perhaps more so than any other art, seemed to consume those who made it and take over them. It was dazzling to watch.

“Have you decided what you'd like to play for me?” I asked, returning the violin to its case. Though the instrument was relatively simple, I supposed it would have had sentimental value beyond its monetary price.

[Sansa]

"Yes," Sansa started, then blushed, "I'm embarrased to play for you now." She took out the violin, one of modern construction but relatively good. It was just nothing compared to a Strad.

"Air on the G string, by Johann Sebastian Bach." She tried her hardest not to be apologetic with her body language, something her teachers had scolded her about. Have faith in the music, and in yourself, Sansa. She took a deep breath, flashed a bright smile, and stood up. "I'll just stand... over here..."

She experimentally plucked a string, then put the violin to her chin. After a moment with her eyes closed, Sansa put bow to strings. It was a piece she was very familiar with, and she wasn't afraid of making a mistake, which helped a lot. After the first few bars she forgot her surroundings and just played.

[Gabriel Rodermark]

She was not exceptionally talented, by any means. Some people are simply naturally gifted with such graces, whilst others must work for them – I suspect that Sansa may fall into the latter category, though she is all the more admirable because of it, because of having invested her time, effort and care into something done for the pleasure of ones self rather than the praise of others.

The piece she had chosen to play was calming and I sunk back against the leather of the couch whilst soaking up the sound. I did not yet allow myself to become lulled into some trance by it all. Instead I watch curiously Sansa's expressions, her body language. Having lived such a long time, the reading of these involuntarily displays of emotion and attitude becomes second nature. It seemed as if she had calmed, become calmed by the music. I smiled at the thought and continue to listen, regardless.

[Sansa]

The piece was soothing, a gentle arrangement of notes. It was not the hardest piece she could play, but trying to play the most difficult of pieces for a new audience, especially one she wanted to impress (well that was out the window now), was just silly.

She ended the recital with a slight smile on her face. Sansa lowered her violin and bowed to her 'audience.' I hope it wasn't too awful. She swallowed the words, and grinned self-consciously. "Well, now you're heard me play."

[Gabriel Rodermark]

“Yes, it was wonderful, thank you.” I gave some small applause. Just enough to be appreciative, yet not enough to seem sycophantic or condescending. “Do you often play for an audience?”

[Sansa]

"Not since I left college." Sansa returned to the sofa and began replacing her violin in it's case. "I've begun teaching Victoria the basics, as well. I don't think that I am well suited for teaching, though, at least not past the first few levels. There are just so many others with more talent."

She flushed, and busied herself with her teacup.

[Gabriel Rodermark]

“Don't be so hard on yourself. You have talent, all you need is some further tutoring.”

It crossed my mind to offer the prospect of Viktoria Mullova as a potential instructor, yet I bit my tongue. I had no way of guaranteeing such an internship. I was merely getting carried away with the idea of pleasing her, by opening avenues that I only had access to. Never the less, I stored the thought away for later consideration. If I could not acquire the talents of a virtuoso with which to mold her, I was sure to know another who could do an equally upstanding job.

“I suppose I am rather privileged to have heard you, then?” I asked, then adding with a smile: “I feel honored.”

Perhaps it was a sign of her growing trust that she had been willing to expose herself as such.

[Sansa]

"Well, you should." Sansa smiled, setting her teacup down once more. "And a private audience, no less." She grinned, looking around the room.

"Your place is great." She looked sideways at her host, adding, "I'm making a mental note to never allow you to see the inside of my flat."

[Gabriel Rodermark]

I feigned a sigh, obviously in jest. “And here I was looking forward to receiving another performance, in the very home of the artiste herself.”

I followed Sansa's eyes, taking in the apartment. I had a cleaner to ensure it's upkeep, of course, though I took care of the more delicate jobs myself – namely the care of those items whose value was perhaps greater than the value of the apartment itself.

“You said you go out clubbing. I haven't been out in an age... I feel old!”

I stretched, laughed somewhat and cast my mind back to the last time that I'd ventured out into the haze of London's nightlife. Doubtlessly it was before Sansa had been born.

“Is there anywhere you'd recommend?”

[Sansa]

She considered the question for a moment. "Emilie likes the Batcave. Its a good mix of all sorts of people, and the music is decent. Great bar, too." Sansa folded her hands in her lap and twiddled her fingers.

"I'm not too into the club scene but I love dancing. I was always in music lessons, but I would have loved to be in dance class too. The parents said I had to pick one, and the violin won out."

[Gabriel Rodermark]

I forced a small smile at the mention of The Batcave, as if to appear curious. I knew of the establishment by way of reputation. The idea of Sansa frequenting such a place was rather surprising. I wondered if she had heard the news of the recent fight that had taken place there, a brawl rumored to have been instigated by Sabbat. I pushed such thoughts away from my mind for the time being, however. I had company to enjoy, and to brazenly ask: “Dancing, hmm... will that be another performance that I have to look forward to?”

[Sansa]

She blushed fiercely at the question, but shrugged coyly. "Maaaybe..." Sansa laughed, "I haven't been out in a while though, I'm bound to be a bit rusty."

[Gabriel Rodermark]

“Hm. That's something we can change quite easily, now, isn't it?”

There was something incredibly satisfying about making her blush, perhaps all down to the fact that it was a sign of the hot blood that coursed through her veins. On a less crude note, it showed how her guard continued to slip, as she became further accustomed – if not at ease – with me. Breaking eye-contact only briefly, I noticed that her tea was all but gone and decided to offer a respite from my game. Even still, I couldn't resist a not-so-subtle subtle at her still red cheeks.

“Can I get you anything else? Another drink, something cool this time, perhaps.”

[Sansa]

Sansa resisted the urge to pat her cheeks to try to cool them down, and nodded, trying not to squeak. Emilie would have had something smart to say, but Sansa had not perfected the art of the comeback.

"Ah, some water maybe." She flushed again, and added, "I know, I know. I can't control it, otherwise I'd stop getting all red in the face." Poking fun at herself was something she could do.

[Gabriel Rodermark]

I strode off to the kitchen with a grin. Pouring out some ice-water, I felt a small buzzing in my pocket. It was my cell phone. The screen-flashed 'missed call' – it was an unrecognized, unlisted number. Not unusual, yet bothersome none the less. There were certain Kindred, Nosferatu in particular, who valued their privacy so much that it was almost impossible to get in touch with them, even when they wanted you to do so. Shaking my head, I dismissed the matter from the time being and returned to the living room. “Here you are,” I set the glass down, then offered another impish smile. “I can turn down the heating, if it's too warm?”

[Sansa]

"Oh, ha ha, very funny." She sipped the water but couldn't help noticing that he was sitting a bit closer to her than he had before. Her body was reacting to his nearness in subtle ways - a quickening of the heart, that delicious feeling in the stomach of fluttering butterflies.

Sansa placed the glass on the table, and turned to look into his eyes. Which were, of course, beautiful. Like everything else about him. He even had great teeth! "Would it be too bold to ask for a tour of your home? Its not often I'm entertained this high up in society, and I simply must see how the other half lives." She winked, eyes sparkling.

[Gabriel Rodermark]

“I'm afraid there isn't much to see, but by all means... follow me.”

I rose to my feet and decided to begin the tour in the kitchen. The room was immaculate, the stainless steel fixtures pristine and polished. There were well-stocked wine and spice racks, alongside a fridge that spent most of it's life empty. A modest black table sat against the back wall, so that the kitchen doubled as a dining room. Although I rarely used the conveniences present myself, the staff I employed made use of it extensively, giving the room a more lived in feel.

“Anyone who didn't know me would think I could cook,” I remarked, with a slight smile. In my mortal life I had relied on my mother for such things. Now, it was no longer necessary.

We left for the study, the smallest room in the apartment, again directly off the sitting room. “My office... not the most exciting of places,” I said, casually brushing aside some papers on the desk. One wall held two large bookcases, mostly on art history and classical studies. There were various photographs on the other walls, myself and business acquaintances or luminaries of society, all posed. Some I imagined Sansa would have heard of, popular musicians in particular, but I thought I had done enough vain posturing for one day.

[Sansa]

The kitchen was breathtaking - all gleaming steel and granite countertops. She couldn't help but run her fingertips across the smooth stone admiringly.

Once inside the office Sansa stood in front of the bookcases, reading the spines of the many books. "Quite a collection, you have here." She smiled, turning around to face him. He was leaning against the desk, and she walked closer to him, though it wasn't really in her nature to do so.

[Gabriel Rodermark]

“Thank you.” Nonchalant, I smiled. She had warmed to me and was growing increasingly comfortable in my presence. Though its potent effects had long since worn off, the blood she had taken from my was still in her veins. The connection could only grow stronger.

“The bathroom and guest room are all that's left to see. The east wing is out of order at the moment, unfortunately,” I joked. The apartment was just that – an apartment. It was only meant to house one, two at most. “Oh, and the bedroom too. I'll spare you that embarrassment.”

[Sansa]

"Ah, a messy haven perhaps?" Sansa grinned, though she didn't think that there was even a speck of dirt in the entire place.

She bit her lip slightly, and then shifted her body to copy his posture - leaning against the desk as well. It was a beautiful piece of furniture, most likely another antique, but it seemed sturdy enough for ... she blushed faintly.

Sansa looked up at her host, "I'm glad you enjoyed my little recital."

[Gabriel Rodermark]

“Thank you for indulging my request. Perhaps I might have another performance someday.”

With a warm smile, I set my hand on top of hers and gave a gentle squeeze.

“...I'm glad that we met.”

Good company is so hard to find. It seems the mortals are often the only ones who offer it.

[Sansa]

"Me too." His hand on hers was cool, but sent a thrill down her spine. "I've never known anyone quite like you before, Gabriel."

Sansa smiled, wondering at the feelings he was giving her. It wasn't simply that he was attractive, though he was, or that she was terribly lonely. There was something else - a connection she fancied she could feel in her blood. His eyes were almost hypnotic, and she wanted to look into them for days.

[Gabriel Rodermark]

“You're going to make me blush, now.” I averted my eyes out of modesty, though the Toreador blood in me hoped she would continue. Although I had heard such things from many mortals before, there was something different this time, as if I actually desired her praise above others.

“I don't suppose that you'd like to stay for dinner this evening? I have an '82 vintage Bordeaux that I've been wanting to uncork for some time.”

[Sansa]

Sansa's smile grew, "I would love to. Though perhaps I shouldn't drink too much wine." She brushed back her hair to reveal the still fading bruise on her forehead from New Years.

"But I am getting a bit hungry." Sansa boldly squeezed his hand gently in return before retrieving her hand and intertwining her fingers in front of her.

[Gabriel Rodermark]

I briefly unscrutinized the bruise, displeased that it had not yet faded, then stood up from the desk and clapped my hands together. “What do you feel like eating? What's your favorite dish? This can be my way of repaying you for that wonderful recital.”

[Sansa]

Her hair fell back into place, and she laughed at his words. "You are much too kind. My taste buds might be a bit proteleriat for you, but I love Italian, so anything along those lines is golden."

Sansa straightened upright as well, following her host as he led her back out of the room.

[Gabriel Rodermark]

I turned, looking over my shoulder. “Proteleriat? Sansa...” I gave a little pout, as if hurt, then chuckled and carried on walking into the lounge. “You're in luck, Italian is one of the few cuisines I've dabbled in. Thank goodness you didn't say lobster.” I grinned, then added as an afterthought. “I ate the last one this morning.”

I paused at the entrance to the kitchen. “Why don't you put some music on?” I nodded towards the sound system on the lounge wall. “I don't think there's anything too embarrassing there.” The stack of CD's next to the player was a mix of jazz, soul, blues and a little classical, with a few less than contemporary pop and rock numbers dotted here and there.

I vanished into the kitchen, leaving Sansa to her choice.

[Sansa]

She studied the stack of CDs before settling on some light jazz. Popping the CD into player, she ran her fingers through her hair, pulling them through some light tangles.

"So, you cook then?" she called from her position, studying a painting on the wall. "Or do I have someone else to thank for the meal?" Sansa grinned, looking over her shoulder at the empty doorway to the kitchen.

[Gabriel Rodermark]

“A little,” I lent into view in the doorway. “I'd feel guilty having all of this,” I motioned around the kitchen, to the multitude of utensils, ingredients and other miscellanea, “...if I couldn't cook something.” Louis Armstrong came on the stereo and I smiled, as I turned back into the kitchen. “You aren't a vegetarian, are you?”

[Sansa]

She laughed, "Oh no, I love my cheeseburgers too much to give it up. I just try not to get too attached to farm animals."

Sansa sidled over to the doorway, leaning against it and watching Gabriel move around the kitchen. "Need some help?"

[Gabriel Rodermark]

“Oh, no. This is my treat.” I pulled open a couple of cupboard doors open, searching for the necessary ingredients for our little feast. “You can help by uncorking the wine, if you like?”

[Sansa]

"Certainly." She walked over to the bottle he'd indicated, and picked up the corkscrew, pulling the foil off the top of the wine.

Examining the label, she couldn't help but be impressed at the vintage, but kept her observations to herself. No need to become a wide-eyed peasant. Sansa twisted the corkscrew into the cork two-thirds of the way, then placed one side of the screw against the lip of the bottle and pulled gently up on the other end. The leverage pulled the cork up most of the way.

She wiggled it the rest of the way free by hand. "Glassware?" Sansa sniffed the cork, a smile on her lips.

[Gabriel Rodermark]

“In the cupboard just above you to the left. I hope it's to your taste...” I pulled out a couple of pots, though nothing that would give away what I was planning to make. “I'm afraid you'll have to step back into the lounge now. Too many cooks...”

[Sansa]

"Ah, I see." She stretched up to the cupboard, taking down two thin glass goblets. "Don't want to reveal your methods, eh?" Sansa winked, holding a goblet diagonally to pour about an inch of the Bordeaux into the bottom of it. She did the same for the second glass, and found Gabriel had laid out a stopper for the wine, which she put into the bottle.

A swirl, and a sip - "Oh, that's fantastic. Yes, yes, I'm leaving now." Sansa grinned and made herself scarce from the kitchen, reclining back onto the couch while she waited.

[Gabriel Rodermark]

I made quick work of preparing the dinner and it wasn't long before a pleasant aroma began to waft in from the kitchen in the lounge. Once or twice I popped my head around the doorway, to check that my company had not become tired – yet she seemed content to sip at the wine and enjoy the soulful sounds of Satchmo. After a time, when everything seemed right, I emerged with the fruits of my labour – a tray carrying two steaming plates.

“Il primo... penne amatriciana.” Pasta, in a tomato sauce with smoked bacon and basil. It was a relatively simple dish, but one that had proved popular time and time again. I placed the tray down on the low table in front of the couch on which Sansa sat. “I thought we might as well take dinner in here. It's far more comfortable.”

[Sansa]

She sat up, placing her wine glass on the table. "It smells delicious, Gabriel." Emile would never believe this. She wasn't sure she believed it, but the wine was making her feel quite comfortable. Not tipsy, of course, just a little more relaxed.

He retrieved her glass from the table to refill it for her, and was soon back with both goblets from the kitchen. Sansa straightened her skirt, and picked up her fork.

"Ah, smells and tastes good." She smiled, "Thank you."

[Gabriel Rodermark]

“My pleasure.”

I took a small sip of the red wine – the subtle flavor sadly lost on me. I had taken the liberty of adding a little something to my guests wine on refilling it. She would certainly not notice the difference, though it was there. The blood mixed with the wine easily, it's taste just as sweet.

“So... are you still interested in my offer of a gallery tour?”

[Sansa]

She sipped the wine, and nodded, "Oh, yes. I'd love it. I'm sure you know all the best pieces.

"I didn't get to see much on ... on New Years." Her memories twinged a little, as though there was something she should remember. Sansa took another bite of her pasta instead of dwelling on the feeling.

Taking up the wine again, she swallowed slowly. "This really is a great vintage - you have excellent taste."

[Gabriel Rodermark]

I didn't let the mention of the Barbican incident vex me, but instead smiled at her comment on the Bordeaux. “It's good to be in the company of someone who can appreciate it, instead of just gulping it down like a pint.” Some might have considered it sacrilege to dilute such a fine wine, however it was arguable that the blood of Clan Toreador was the finest vintage of all; a heady, intoxicating concoction. “It's little luxuries like these that make life worth living...” I paused, as if listening to myself, then gave a self-depreciative chuckle. “Listen to me, I must sound so old-fashioned and... uncool.”

[Sansa]

Sansa rolled her eyes, "If I hear another person use the word 'cool' I think I'll scream. No, I think its terrific - there is so much to life there's hardly enough time to experience it all. And these days people run around so much they don't even bother trying.

"Enjoying a good wine, or piece of music ... can almost be a religious experience." Her cheeks colored faintly as she went on, "I only wish I had your resources, to experience the 'little luxuries' as it were."

[Gabriel Rodermark]

A religious experience, she had said. Something spiritual. Now there was the zeitgeist of the Toreador at their finest! seeing the beauty and infinite value in art and life itself. For all I had singled her out as a means of ensuring Camarilla security, what I had really found in Sansa was more than a pleasant surprise. I almost felt guilty at bonding her to me, for fear that it might somehow affect the innocent spark that was alight within her. “I'm glad you think so ...and you know, if you'd ever like to partake in any of those luxuries, I'd welcome the company. I find these sorts of things are best enjoyed with others, don't you?”

[Sansa]

She smiled, "Well, of course. There isn't much that can't be improved with the right company."

Sansa bit her lower lip, adding, "Like dinner, for instance." Her blue eyes sparkled over the top of her goblet as she sipped the wine again.

[Gabriel Rodermark]

“Then we must do this again some time soon. Perhaps you might do the honor of being chef next time?” I asked, returning her lingering stare with a wolfish smile, then adding brazenly: “How are you at breakfasts?”

[Sansa]

Her pulse quickened at the expression on his face, and she felt the room growing warmer around her. "Well, it would depend on what you were in the mood for." Sansa looked down at her nearly empty plate, and then back up at Gabriel. He was still watching her intently, with that gleam in his eye.

[Gabriel Rodermark]

I set my plate aside, having gone through the motions of all but clearing it. Free of the clutter, I relaxed against the arm of the couch, happy to indulge in a little innuendo and double entendre. “Hmmm... what would the chef recommend?”

[Sansa]

She colored faintly, "I must admit to being a bit... rusty when it comes to breakfast. Cooking for one can be a bit boring."

Sansa thought about what she'd just said, and put her hand to her face. "Well, you know how it is when you're alone." Though, as she thought about it, he probably didn't. A man like Gabriel Rodermark would have no lack of companionship.

[Gabriel Rodermark]

I couldn't help but laugh, just a little, at the no doubt unintentional humor to her words. I found myself slightly sobered by them too, however. Alone was how I spent most of my time. Of course I was surrounded by Kindred, but I had not connected with another closely since the departure of my sire, and that had been many years prior. Thinking it might be wise to change the subject, to save face for Sansa, I took a draught of my wine and asked: “What are your plans for the rest of the week?”

[Sansa]

Thankful for the change in conversation, though a tad disappointed, Sansa also took up her wine. "Oh, working during the day. Emilie, my flatmate, is all wrapped up in her latest boyfriend so I doubt I'll be hanging around her much."

She sipped the wine, and added with a chuckle, "Maybe I'll be doing some cooking for one."

[Gabriel Rodermark]

I held back a grin and the urge to ask if she and Emilie ever cooked together.

“Your evenings are free, then. As are mine. What a fortunate coincidence!”

[Sansa]

She found herself staring at his mouth, wanting to... not knowing exactly what it was she wanted to do. Sansa looked at her wine glass - it was empty.

"Yes, indeed - maybe a gallery tour sooner rather than later." She smiled, adjusting her position on the couch to a more reclined pose. A little closer to Gabriel as well. "I would enjoy it very much."

[Gabriel Rodermark]

“Perhaps we could go this week, then... say, Friday?”

It was only Tuesday, but I had business to tend to in the interim. Not only this, but the time spent apart would allow Sansa to become aware of the effect my absence had on had. The vitae in her would trigger feelings not unlike the first warm pangs of love.

“Would you like some more wine? Dessert, perhaps? ...I think I have some cannoli.”

[Sansa]

"Friday works just fine. I'll look forward to it." She looked at her empty goblet and shook her head. "No more wine, but thank you. And desert sounds delicious - I must admit to having a bit of a sweet tooth." She grinned.

[Gabriel Rodermark]

I nodded and cleared away the dinner plates, returning to the kitchen for some dessert bowls. I was about to dish out the cannoli shells when I felt another buzz in my pocket – my cell, again. The number was still unidentified. I answered. “Yes?”

“Hello, boss.”

It was Saul Leavis, the Primogen of Clan Nosferatu. I eased the kitchen door closed slightly.

“Good evening, Saul. I take it you tried to call me earlier? My apologies.”

“Yeah. Some of my boys just got back from scoping out the 'aven we think the Sabbat have been using. Turns out the place is abandoned, but it looks as if they haven't been long gone.”

I looked up through the crack in the door, to see Sansa smiling somewhat uncertainly at me.

“We think we've got a trail to follow,” Saul continued.

“Excellent. A meeting is in order. I'll contact Roland, Elizabeth and William. You see to the others.”

“No worries, boss,” I could almost hear the snaggle-tooth grin that Leavis surely wore.

“I'll see you in an hour.” I ended the call, and returned the bowls to their places in the cupboards.

Pausing, I steeled myself before turning to the sitting room. “I'm afraid we're going to have to postpone dessert until another time... I just had an important call from work.”

[Sansa]

"Oh," Sansa tried not to let her disappointment show on her face. "That's okay. I suppose running the Barbican takes more work than I can imagine."

She stood up, gathering her violin case slowly. "I should be going - thank you for the evening... and the company." Sansa paused, looking up at him with her violin case under her arm, not wanting to leave but knowing he had things to do.

[Gabriel Rodermark]

I smiled apologetically. “I'm sorry we have to cut things short... I'll make it up to you.”

Stepping forwards, I embraced Sansa gently with one arm. “Thanks again for a lovely evening.”

[Sansa]

She hugged him quickly and took a deep breath. "No problem. I just hope you enjoyed it as much as I did."

He showed her to the door, and let her know that his driver would see her safely home. As the door closed behind her, she stood there for a moment, turning around and looking at the number eight.

Then she made her way to the elevator, tugging her coat around her and wrapping up in her scarf. As she traveled downwards she had the strange feeling that she was lonelier than ever before.