Paxton had been in many a tense situation, some of them even at dinner parties. Demon tended to put a gun on the table to even the most light-hearted social events, and they always put their money where their mouth was. Demons couldn't be accused of being honest - a good lie tended to accomplish so much more - but when they threatened you? You took it seriously. You equipped your Kevlar and slept with a knife under the bed.
This wasn't a tense situation. Not like that. Paxton observed the interactions between James and his father, and he noticed how almost stilted they were. They weren't fond of one another, nor did they indulge in hatred. Instead, there was an odd mixture of wariness, obligation and a hint of respect in there. A family, stripped of their emotions, seeing only value.
It would make even the coldest demon shiver.
"Of course, the weather is my biggest concern," Paxton said, picking up the thread. "The hot desert can be very unforgiving, but it would be something to be worked around. Races in the morning and the evening, or a hippodrome that has a fully fledged A/C... Something for the architects to dream about, I suppose."
Paxton had finished his dish and dabbed at the corners of his mouth with his napkin. "Quite tasty," he said. "Have you not arranged anything for your son? If you're worried about me, let me assuage your fears: I am not bothered by it. I see vampires feed at the school all the time."