Michael groaned softly as the clothes were draped across his body, feeling around with clumsy paw-slams until he found his glasses. He shoved them onto his nose, made sure they weren't crooked, and sat up slowly. The dramatic move was very similar to the zombie-rising movement that Movie-Vamps did: Eyes fully open, the mind functioning perfectly but the body not quite responding. His throat burned, and his entire body ached. He hated using blood slaves or the nobles at the parties, and refused to drink bagged blood. Donors were tasty, but not nearly strong enough. He hadn't fed on anything fresh and afraid in a few weeks now, and his body longed for it.
He changed sluggishly, fumbling briefly with the charcoal dress shirt's shiny buttons. He reached for the tie, decided against it. instead, he went for something a little more casual. He kept all the buttons done though; he didn't want anyone seeing his burns. This somewhat limited his ability to dress in modern fashions; getting to wear black, torn jeans and a heavy pair of steel toed boots made everything worthwhile though. Going back to his room, he picked out a heavy steel chain with a compass rose pendant. The lovely bit of "costume jewelry" was his favorite, and didn't come at the price of the Royal gems. He wore it in place of the tie, the gray-on-black ensemble making his pale skin paler, his eyes brighter. He picked a jacket to match his eyes, just to attract a bit more color to his appearance. With a nod to his twin as he emerged, he headed down the servants' stairs, knowing they'd be asleep for easily another hour.
He was certainly ready to paint the town red tonight. Not that the humans would ever know.