Voices soon became constant and the norm as Zakhar took another drink from his bumbo; his hearing began to focus more closely on the room around him as more bodies of supernatural entities began to flood into the log house. True, it was odd for a vampire to complain about too much noise, but Zakhar had to be different in more than one way, after all; his hearing being easily comparable to the werewolves that he was staying with, according to his mathematics and earlier readings. It made things quite odd during the nights he would attempt to be alone, only to hear the hazy moans of a couple in the middle of copulation a block over; the odd feeling would be worse when it was fellow vampire. So he trained his hearing to become much more secular, more selective in the voices and sounds it would pick up. While in the mortal sense, this would spell dread, this little quirk was a blessing for the man.
The first voice, ironically enough, was Darcy's - she had appeared at a peculiar time, said very little and was with vodka; interesting. “Are you going stir crazy too or is it just me? We keep this crap up and I think I’m gonna start breaking stuff.” Zakhar began to close the book at her statement, the serious tone intriguing him. It seemed that Darcy wasn't the only one with such a negative opinion of the werewolves, as Astrid also piped up - not in his direction, but still within the easily audible range - about her dissatisfaction with their living arrangements. Jack was a slight more light hearted in his responsive tone, sounding more like joking about their conditions. Mentally, Zakhar wrote it all down on, the proverbial pen on his imaginary paper until he had some alone time to make it physical.
Mariette also entered at this time; as her second in command, it was almost instinct that Zak reply courtly and politely. "Good day, miss." While it was an automated response - one did not become the second in command without flattery - and he wasn't facing her at the time, Zakhar's voice never sounded robotic. If anything, his tone was charming and polite, with a hint of wistful ambition. However, he had allowed himself to get distracted by the noise of the kitchen, and his own mental notes. Darcy was still awaiting his response, which was curious unto itself; she rarely cared for another's opinions.
Until Zakhar realized that half of the room had suddenly disappeared. An eyebrow raised in curiosity as he scanned the room, the sounds of the recent events collecting into his now empty ears. Astrid and Jack ran off to go explore something about a flower, and Darcy hastily ran off before he could answer. A light sigh escaped his lips before curling into a smile, staring down at his glass. “It seems that the popular opinion toward the wolves is negative, miss.” His voice was soft, directed at the only vampire left in the room, Mariette. “I am intrigued in them, the others seem to brush them off as feral.” Since many of the vampires had left, he grabbed a pen and his black book from his coat and began to write down his musings for the day, awaiting if a response would be given to him.