After the new start for the Council of Neonates

[Christine Daye]

Christine blushes, her gaze downcast, but she's still smiling gently.

Then, at the question, she looks up in surprise, blushes even more, and drinks. Then, seeing Dorian drain his drink, she does too, holding her empty glass out to him to be refilled.

She hiccups genteelly.

[LittleBird]

Kira covers her mouth, a little chuckle at her brothers sigh, yet she settles down, tilting her head, staring intently at her reflection in the glass... echoes from conversations on such subjects repeat in her mind. “Mmm,” she ponders briefly, then shakes her head, breathing thinly “never...” she sighs, placing the glass down gently, after all There is nothing taboo about making love...

[LittleBird]

“Never have I ever...” she blinks, then gasps sitting straight and raising her glass to announce, “had dreams about anyone in this room!” she gestures, "Cheers!" and sips deeply, leaving her empty cup on the table with a clink as she's done, as if need approval to have it filled up again.

[Dorian M. Black]

Blushes have this intriguing way with capturing the attention, a mesmerising mix of compressed images and languid ripples, irregular memories gathered round a hot knot.

With new beverage in hand, Dorian simply slides his own across to the singer sat beside him, before taking hers by its crystal lip and refilling it for himself. The muted light of the studio catches the corner of his mouth as he smiles, gaze sliding to her for moment.

"A dream," he murmurs, turning to Kira. Dorian frowns a moment. He doesn't dream often, and when he does, it's not of people. He sets his drink on the table.

[Regulus Grey]

Regulus raises his glass to Kira and throws back the rest of his drink. Setting it back down on the table he waits for Dorian to put the bottle down before refilling his glass. His eyes studiously avoid looking at Christine as he does so.

[Christine Daye]

"...dreams..." Christine muses, her voice low, husky.

She takes Dorian's offered glass with a smile of thanks, her eyes bright and alive.

"But then you call - and all my bonds release.
You guard my sleep. With you my dreams find peace."

It has the sound of a quotation.

She raises his glass in a toast of gratitude to him, and drinks.

Then, looking around the others, a mischievous smile on her lips.

"Never have I ever..." her gaze slides to Regulus, curious, "...desired anyone in this room... "

Another secret smile, not looking at anyone, as she drinks, her lips red against the crystal of the glass.

[Regulus Grey]

Regulus drinks, a longer drink this time. He keeps his eyes on Christine for several long seconds before looking away. Putting his glass down on the table he blinks slowly, looking around at the others in the room.

[Dorian M. Black]

Dorian's attention moves to Regulus, deliberately, and with emotion amassing in the cells. Something comes to slow coherence as he takes in the look the Gangrel gives to Kira, and then to Christine. Finally, as Dorian drinks to the last, noting that their erstwhile companion does so, too, his own aura dramatically shifts.

"Let's change the game," Dorian smiles, easily, his shoulders loose and gesture welcoming. He swings his leg down, from where his boot was resting on his thigh.

"Regulus, we know so little about you. I've heard from the girls about your exciting exploits in snowy Siberia, so many tigers and daring adventures. But we don't know much about you. Come, man, share with us. Let us know you, as we know one another."

The friendly outburst has brought a low flush to Dorian's body, quick life beneath his muscles, blood against the flesh, and over the pale length of his throat and face it's oddly attractive. He smells of rain and stress and life. (Distantly, bizarrely, flowers.)

Several locks of black hair have fallen forward with the change of position, and one sways in front of his eyes. With a motion of his hand, Dorian gently pushes them aside, to the edge of his eyebrows. He smiles, shares with Regulus the rueful understanding that there is a limit to what one may hope for once one’s plans have gone awry.

"We might as well leap into the deep end, eh? Which of our beautiful girls caught your eye? Don't be shy. We're all friends here. And it pays to compliment a women."

[Regulus Grey]

Raising one eyebrow, Regulus's mouth twitches up into a smile.

"Well, very forward of you Mr Black."

He drinks, a long sip from his glass.

"Many of the ladies of the city have caught my eye to some degree. For they are not the hard bodied lean women of Siberia...but..softer...and more appealing. Of course...I learned much about pleasure from the people of that land...and I experienced much. My mind was opened to many possibilities I had ever considered before."

He too leans forward in his chair, the glass held idly in one hand.

"Ms Melody was one to catch my eye most however, beautiful music played by a beautiful woman. Music was always lacking in Siberia..unless you count the howls of the wolf packs."

He inclines his head to Christine.

[Dorian M. Black]

"I am a forward kind of man."

"In fact, many of us here are quite familiar with my forwardness," Dorian chuckles, gives the Gangrel a look as if to say his own flaws are especially well known, but people seem to accept him all the same. What a lovely town. "We like honesty here, we're rather open to one another. Intimately so. It's the hallmark of a good fief. Happy Neonates make happy Courts."

"We'd like to offer this intimacy to you, Mr Grey. An invitation, so to speak. Ah - but..."

"It's always difficult, with one-off encounters, to really know what you're getting into. Don't you think? Perhaps you don't know what I'm talking about... Saying that, Siberia sounds to have set you up well... It's all so bothersome when people can't just be out with what they want. Howl it loud to the heavens, I say, for there is no shame in desire. Miss Daye is a beautiful woman, in more ways than you'll ever know."

"Can you imagine her?" Dorian asks, deceptively quiet. "All that crimson hair and breathless music, a very different kind of art when the ritual's thick with heat."

Dorian runs the tip of his index finger across the low edge of his glass. "What would you do, if given such a chance?" That smile's dark. "Describe it to us. Though, please, be gentle with detail. The mind paints a bigger picture when given a path to tread, but no hand to hold. Would you encourage her to share in any particular... taboo? What delights could you show her? How would you express this desire to our Melody, carnally? And don't worry, you won't frighten any of us here. I can promise you that."