He returned from a day of job and amusement, smelling to blood, oil and chemicals beneath his expensive cologne, he had yet to bathe tonight. His manner of dressing was very informal; his trousers and shirt would appear as rags in such expensive hotel but nobody ever said anything. When they watched him, they didn’t notice his clothes. Dietrich stretched inside his room, letting the water boiling in the kitchen to make coffee later. He rose from his coach and went to check on one of his investments, rapping at the door. “Diva. Are you there?” he asked. “I have something for you.”
Dietrich had bought tickets for an Opera after dinner. He knew she enjoyed singing and, while he disliked those boring stuff Isaak indulged himself in, the Puppetmaster wanted to see her behavior in a social situation.