Daniel was a solitary example of his kind, but he had met several others in his long past, including the one that had made him. There were plenty of vampires that created a place of safety with a warm, homey feel. He had known a rather motherly example, a truly ruthless creature under a collection of soft cloth and warm milk, that treated her collection of mortals as if they were particularly tasty, unruly children--if children could be easily replaced. There was another he had met on the far coast of Turkey that cultivated a sense of danger, sharp edges and bronzed furniture caressed by wetstone, leather and over-steeped black coffee. To walk into his place was to know it was a den, a place of potential death and the home of a predator. He attracted a different kind of people, of course, this vampire in Turkey, people who felt a thrill when they walked the edge of a cliff.
When Daniel was in his right mind, it was less cultured, but his environment was there. He was not as good at attracting such a wide variety of people, though he seemed to specialize in lost (of a kind) souls just as much as his brethren. His home had not been of his choosing, taken over in the wake of the two little girls gone scampering away from him, and in such a small town Daniel was like a tiger in a fenced playground, with little room to move. The place above the B&B was like a abandoned museum crossed with an old bookshop, and no one would much imagine it to be a razorblade of a place, nor a particularly nurturing one.
Only Daniel inside it, pale ghost that he was on bare feet and wrapped up in his antique but cheerful operatic strains, suggested danger. He was not at all modern, from the cut of his unbelted slacks to the raptness of his gaze, and to see him was to walk Hamlet's ramparts and know nothing was going to be the same.
"Come in." Daniel made a palm-flat entrance gesture, staying where he was in the middle of the room. He had a cloth-covered book in his right hand that he put down on an armchair, abbreviating a walk across the room to face the door. He knew that Newt's newly acquired information about Destiny might make him unpredictable, so his expression was faintly anxious. The vampire, possessive as he was by nature, looked over Newt's face, lingering on the depressions lining the edge of the man's mouth. The white cat appeared from nowhere and trotted in the direction of the door, anticipating Newt's arrival with an uplifted white flag of a tail.