HE HADN\'T EXPECTED DOMINIC\'S house to amount to much, and when he\'d entered the neighbourhood he\'d expected to be a little further east where the area was a little more run-down, a little cheaper, below Lazarus\' usual standards in any case. Warrick Avenue sounded nice on paper, as he\'d seen it on Dominic\'s file at the Oligarchy (before that Irish vampire fucker had pushed him out) and he\'d meant to swing by and have himself some entertainment a while back. He\'d put it off though, figuring the place Dominic lived with his ignorant lover would be little better than a caravan - but looking at this house across the street from where he stood - he found himself rather impressed with the tidy package it presented.
For a start, the property was in a good area, and it was an area he recognised for not too far away lived an artist who he\'d shared Dom in a threesome with in a studio with an armchair. Perhaps even around the corner or a couple of streets down. He wasn\'t going to call on the artist though, for Dom was the easier target (being so worshipful) and mortals were more fun to mess with. He was looking forward to meeting the groupie\'s boyfriend, on introducing him to the world of vampires and then having fun with him and Dom. He couldn\'t recall the name of the boyfriend, even though it had been in the file, but he did remember that he was clueless as to the supernatural presence in the city (and also oblivious to the fact Dominic was bending over for every male he met with fangs, too).
He crossed the street without bothering to check for cars for there were none. It was a pleasantly quiet avenue without even a dog barking in the background to upset the silence. The moon was high enough for the night to have taken hold, and as he walked up the path, he was delighted with the (unnecessary to him) subtle garden lights that helped him find his way to the front door. How thoughtful.
Upon arriving at the doorstep, he did a quick inventory of himself. A battered cigarette packet in his front left jeans pocket that held a couple of cigarettes and a lighter, a few twenties that he\'d nabbed off the guy he\'d fed from last night in his back right jeans pocket, a very thin but very soft black leather jacket that had replaced his woollen one over the top of a crisp white button up shirt untucked over pale blue jeans and his trusty cowboy boots. His hair was undone and likely in a sexy ruffle but he ran his long fingers through it anyway to keep some stray blonde strands in place before reaching out with his right hand and rapping a quick beat on the wood. There was a knocker provided, as well as a doorbell, but he liked doing things his way.
He expected Dom to answer the door, but he got a better gift instead. It was the boyfriend, and Lazarus sensed that he was alone in this big house. That would make the introduction so much neater without Dom hanging all over him or being too nervous to let things run smoothly. Right now, Lazarus was in full control. He smile disarmingly at the boyfriend (without being so novice as to reveal his fangs with such a smile) and waited for the greeting that was probably going to be questioning.
