She shuts the door behind him and takes a moment to rake her eyes over Issac, making no attempt whatsoever to disguise what she was doing. Those orbs of different colours move from his boots up his lean body to his really quite fetching face and then down again, one side of her mouth tilting up in a semblance of a grin. "You do make a picture." For one that has often caused fingers to burn when touching her without permission, Sloan herself is a very tactile being and she reaches out to smooth a slim hand over a leg of his trousers. "I fancy these. 'Tis a thing of luck for you that you're far taller than I, else you'd find them missing one night from your home."
She takes his hand and leads him to what she's loosely defined as the sitting area. Everything is covered in lush fabrics, and is lit by candles alone. She eschews most modern lighting in her own quarters. With manners ingrained in her centuries ago, she takes his coat from him, laying it across a side table and out of the way. The energies pulsing from the male could power a small town, she thinks to herself. She could feel the tendrils of his gift teasing the edges of her mind, but thus far, its been denied entrance and Sloan means to keep it that way.
Gesturing for him to take the seat of his choosing, whether it be a chair, on the settee next to her, or upon one of the numerous large pillows scattered about, she tilts her head and looks at him consideringly. "Let's see how willing you are in a few hours after some drinks and conversation." She takes a glass and indicates the numerous bottles for him to pick an alcohol. "I'd quite like to bed you," she says in an offhand manner, "You interest me and I appreciate all things of beauty. But I've never been with one of your kind before and am unfamiliar with the rules."