#13 had not been expecting James to go through with it. The words his son spoke to him sent shivers of dread down his spine. Then the show of raw vampire power, deadly and violent, had a visceral effect on Mr. Weatherby. He had feared James before on the night their youngest son was found dead. #13 knew James was different, and not just in the ways that Weatherbys were different. James was... unbalanced. Unpredictable. Ruthless in ways that transcended mere business sense. He would make a fine leader of the company, but it would be a dark reign. #13 only hoped his own end, when it came, would be quick.
Mr. Weatherby watched James feed, forcing himself to not look away. It was something else, being this close to a creature capable of tearing someone in half. It was empowering, being the human in the room who had immunity. Temporary as it may be. Finally Mr. Weatherby's eyes turned to Paxton. What was Paxton? Not human. He couldn't be just human. The Weatherbys had been familiar with the supernatural world for generations, but #13 didn't know as much as he should.
"Immortality is not the crown jewel of power, Paxton. Humanity is strong because it constantly refreshes itself. New births, deaths, the cycle of life in a natural circle that grows more powerful with each passing generation. To be immortal is to become stagnant. I welcome my death when it comes."
James finished feeding and delicately licked the man's neck clean, holding him in an iron grip a bit longer than necessary. Human blood coursed through his veins and James felt restored. There was color in his skin now. His lungs expanded with a breath and then he exhaled. Tipping his head, James met the eyes of the servant and slipped inside. He manipulated the man's thoughts, removing the glimmer of an idea to report this to the authorities and move to a remote location and replacing it, inserting his own idea of it being a much better idea to keep quiet and go about his business.
"Thank you." James said softly. He withdrew, releasing the servant who backed away with a small bow. James unfolded the handkerchief from his pocket, dabbing at the corners of his mouth where blood had collected. James then turned and found Paxton's eyes as his father spoke of dying. The corner of James' mouth turned up. He returned to his seat, but his eyes remained on Paxton. He wanted nothing else than to take Paxton over this table. Maybe for dessert.