It would have been fairly typical for Byron to answer his trailer door with nothing but some thin pajama pants on. The man had no shame when it came to knowing he looked good to the eye and using that to his advantage. But this little game he decided upon did not come with the typical greeting. That would have been too easy and Conor could have readied himself against it. So when the door opened to reveal the vampire, he had on a tight t-shirt with rolled cuffs and one of his less glamorous performance pants.
His eyes bright in the soft light of the night bleeding into his trailer, Byron gave a toothy grin at the early arrival of Conor. The fae had always been very good at deadlines. "Come in." He gestured into his abode. The decorations hardly unexpected for a vampire, with blackout curtains on the windows- rarely moved at night as he did not spend all of his time cooped up unless there was a reason to be- and dark colours swirling under extravagant hand carved mouldings with shelves of books built into the walls.
"Wine or-" He paused with a smirk. "Something harder." No matter how much Byron had travelled in his lifetime, he had never lost his English accent, and while he did use modern terminology and slang it intermingled with his Regency era phrasing at times. (Reply to this)