The vicar it was, Dantalion acknowledged, blending seamlessly first into the body he had formed, and then into Merritt's shape, reaching forward to grasp the window frame and pull himself across the threshold. "May I come in?" he asked politely, hovering just on the ledge looking in, crouched in clothes that were out-of-date for fashion: slightly too revealing; slightly too tight. "You look as though you were about to enjoy a bath." May I join you? was the obvious next question to ask, but Dantalion let Sadie lead for now, watching her reactions and expectations.
Still, there was such a thing as too prudish, and Dantalion would prefer not to lose Sadie's interest. He had little enough to work with; Merritt might be lean, but he was far from exotic, and lacked the muscle definition and power Dantalion preferred for his seductions. "It smells lovely," he remarked, voice dropping--if not to a purr, then at least to a deeper, richer tone, polished mahogany and silk.