Snippet #1746757

Drake's smile brightened into it's usual amused smirk. "I was cleaning the spare rooms when I spotted it. Thought you might like it. I've got no use for for such things." He told the frightened girl over his shoulder. Then he looked about again. "Dammit James," He said to himself as he strode into the dining room. "Late again." He clenched the watch in his fingers tightly for a moment before replacing it. Then the pale snowy haired man waved a hand, beckoning the others. He ran his tongue over the jagged ridge of his teeth, thinking to himself about the genius of his plan. It was amazing to be not particularly hungry. It must be how it felt to be a rich human. Always sated. A glorious feeling of well being. Even if it did require work.

"You can sit where you like." He tossed over his shoulder to the humans as he went out the door on the far side of the room. "I'll be back in a moment." That was a warning. Don't run off, it commanded. Sit. Stay. Be good. Drake trotted down the hall to the kitchen, where food was waiting. Fish, which Deget had shown him how to make properly, soup, pretty much the only thing he could make well. And bread, and the very last bottle of wine. The only one that had been saved from consumption. And that was only because it had been in Drake's room. The only one who'd been in Drake's room for any length of time was Deget, after Tom had stabbed Monica.

Balancing the gargantuan tray with the practiced ease of years of boredom, Drake made his way back to the other room swiftly.