Chris was moving slower than she was, taking in his surroundings. It was the second time he'd shown up at a house that had an occupant nearly as new to it as he was, but this time he'd been able to come directly from the auction house, once his motorcycle and meager possessions had been found and checked back out to him. He dropped his own keys into the bowl with hers, a pang of sadness striking him at the familiarity of the little gesture of domesticity shared too soon. His jacket got set on the back of a chair, and then he stood where she'd gestured him to, looking around the kitchen, and then back at her, sipping on a bottle that was undoubtedly unappetizing. Blood sausage, blood cakes, blood stews. He'd tried them all, but none of them came from humans.
"Why do you keep a fully stocked kitchen?" he asked, amused by the absurdity. It was a waste, considering her singular dietary needs. It was all so... normal. "What are you, like, a vampire who wishes they were still human or something, so you're trying to play pretend with me?" It was a rude question, and a stupid one considering the imbalance of status between them, but Chris was keen on establishing an early understanding of the balance of dominance, separate from titles, and so far she seemed nothing but willing to accommodate him.