Harker Architectural Office&Residence

[Mr. Rossi]

This is a standard upper-middle-class complex with offices and shops in the one half of the building and apartments in the other half.
One of these offices is the Harker Architectural Office, a small bureau run by Thomas Harker, with a reputation for minor but perfectly planned and executed contracts.
Just on the other side of the building, connected through a small backdoor and a flight of stairs is an apartment where two men live, the architect and his secretary, or so the people say. Well, obviously more than his secretary, or they wouldn't live together. While the architect is said to keep himself locked up and working until the late hours, his assistant is said to be seen quite often moving around between the two parts of the building or tending to the garden in the inner courtyard.

[Dalian]

The thick wood of the door is cold to my touch; nonetheless I can feel my whole body getting warmer while the prickling sensation of love washes over me once again. I listen intently for any signs that his sleep might be restless. It's a pointless endeavor; there is no sound to be heard through the door, not the slightest indication that there is even a person on the other side. But I know better; I can perceive his presence even through this inch thick oak door. I could open it just for a moment to look at him. Just to watch him lie there for a second or two; but I call myself to order. It's not the time for that. Not yet. There are still several hours till sunset and I have tasks to fulfill. I slowly take my hand from the door and take a step back; a last glance and I head back; but I know that I will return several times throughout the day, waiting for him...

Soon I tell myself, but a quick look to the clock tells me that I still should wait another hour or so before I return. Otherwise I am sure he will be disappointed with me. Not that he doesn't understand me, but he expects me to be in control of myself. Thinking of him a small sigh escapes my lips, I freeze and stop in my tracks for a moment. Perhaps an hour working on the garden will help me. The sunlight always calms me down and in the small garden, located in the inner courtyard of the building, I might be able to hold out. As soon as I step outside, I sense a gentle breeze carring the soft odor of lilac. A little smile curls my lips; it was a good idea to plant them. I love the smell, it reminds me of the days in the academy. I hope he will like it just as much. With theese thoughts I take a look at the horrible mess in several of the other garden sections. Some people just have no understanding for beauty and refinement.

Several hours, a brief nap, a good meal, and a change of clothing later I am once again in front of the oak door. A glance onto the pocket watch tells me it's almost time: 20:25; 8 more minutes to sunset. Reverently I open the door and step onto the heavy carpet; soon my eyes start to adjust to the darkness inside and I can finally see him. He lies there on his bed; completely, perfectly still as he awaits the night. I can feel my pulse hasten, everything seems more vivid, more clear once I can see him. My nose picks up his scent. It's not something I can easily describe, not like lilac or roses; it's harsh, masculine and powerful. My whole body stands ready while I wait, perhaps he will be hungry...

[Mr. Rossi]

After a good days sleep The Architect finally awakens in his bed. With sleepy eyes he looks up to his assistant and mutters a "Good Evening, Oliver". Looking around, he notices that his clothes and todays newspaper already lie prepared on the bed next to him. Slowly he grasps for the paper and unfolds it. After skipping through the boring world news and celebrity gossip he finally arrives at the local news: "Accident rates skyrocket", Sure... accidents; "Noises in the British Museum", I don't think I could care less.
Dismissing the boring news with a drop of the newspaper to the ground and a dismissive gesture, he finally gets up and dresses himself with a black suit and a dark purple shirt. "So, what's the real news?", he asks his servant, "Anything on the schedule for tonight?"

[Dalian]

I suppress a small shiver as his eyes first focus on me. It's a good feeling to be the first thing he notices in the night. It cheers him up, and me too. Watching him change is breathtaking as always and the clothes I laid out for him fit him like a second skin. They emphasise the aura of importance that surrounds him. I expected the question; in fact it was one of the our many intimate rituals. He would always ask it; and the way his eyes grinned wickedly would always imply that he already knew everything I would tell him. He had expected it, sensed it in the way I was carrying myself. Still he asked about it. Not for his sake, he asked it for mine. It was something for me to hold onto, so that I was not sweeped away by him and had a way to regain my foothold. A moments pause, that's all it took me to regain my senses. But the way he always waited for me implied the whole range of feelings between us. "Mr Underwood asked of me to remind you that there is only a week left."
An unimportant info. He already knew it; I knew that he knew it; even Underwood knew that he already knew it. But we all cling to our rituals, and Arthur Underwood would always call a week before a contract was due. He would call again in 4 days, and then in 7 once more. That was expected of him...
"And you wanted to visit the Royal Albert Hall tonight, Sir."

[Mr. Rossi]

"Mr. Underwood can wait. Also his project should be almost ready for presentation." Harker could never be bothered to put on the finishing touches to a project earlier than needed. He always liked to wait and see if there was anything special that came to his mind, so that he could surprise his clients with that well-thought-out last-minute detail.
The Royal Albert Hall, where the living go for entertainment and the dead for politics. He wanted to see if there were any news in the ranks of the First Estate, or if there was anyone he could assist with by offering his services. "Well, then let's get going.", he said quickly striding through the apartment and heading for the car.

[Dalian]

(Cromwell & Harker enter)

After parking the car in the usual spot, Cromwell hurries around it to open the door for his master. No "Thank you, Oliver.", his master must still be disappointed in him. Still there is something he has to ask. In the silver moonlight the garden lies silently infront of them, and a slight of fragrance lilac is in the air. And the distinct odor of those detestable plants Mrs. Adair grows in her garden. Who in their right mind would want to grow pineapple lilies...
Silently he follows his master inside. Only after the wooden door closes behind them, he hesitantly begins to speak, "Lately there seems to be no night that goes by without another incident of hunters attacking kindred. Shall we take further precautions sir?"

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