Paxton was used to a certain kind of wealth: after all, in Las Vegas, money had to roll, preferably into demons' pockets. But that was different: gaudy, flashy, all gold and gadgets. The nouveau riche showing off their wealth to the poor people who had come to squander their money in the slot machines and were amazed at people who bet a thousand bucks on a single hand.
This house exuded class, style and taste. It felt rich rather than looked it, luxury tucked away in every corner, every cranny. This was the kind of wealth that didn't need to show off, simply because everyone who didn't recognize it as such probably wasn't worth talking to. Luckily, the plethora of horses everywhere detracted from the effect, at least for Paxton. He wasn't a big fan of horses.
Into the lion's den. Then again, Paxton had spent many a time there.
The demon had taken care to shine his shoes and his cuff links, looking as well put together as always. His nails were trimmed, his hair perfectly in order. He had only refused to shave, even for this. After all, it would do well not to emulate James completely.
Paxton had been raised on manners and etiquette. None his mannerisms betrayed his self-consciousness, his tone didn't betray his disdain for the unpleasant man in front of him. He knew he was being goaded. Briefly, he wondered how the man would've responded to Davian, imagining his little brother to match the man's comments one by one. Of course, Davian would've been straightforward and inappropriate, while this man sheathed his insults in civility. He was glad that James didn't resemble him much.
"My father thinks St. Margaret's is an excellent opportunity," Paxton said, meeting the man's stare with a sharp smile. "Though I can imagine my father values a broader sort of social networking than you. However, St. Margaret's opens up doors to almost any university in the world without having to jump through ridiculous hoops like, say, donating enough money to build a new arboretum. If you work hard and get good grades, the Academy lends you status, panache. Having a name always helps, of course. I would think their more European approach would appeal to you, Sir."
Paxton cut off a small piece of his fish. He ate slowly, knowing that savoring was much more appropriate than gobbling it all down. "You simply must compliment your chef. The fish is succulent. Do you enjoy the Japanese kitchen? Have you ever tried fugu?"