I collapse into my comfortable oversized chair, sighing deeply. I can hear the aggravating sounds of my clock striking twelve. The grandfather clock was older than even I am, and trust me, that is ancient. One hundred and thirty-two years exactly and there is not a single imperfection to be found on my face. My eternal beauty is making me both vain and lonely.

“OWOWOUCH!”

Alright, perhaps, not that lonely. The cries of pain in the other room are those of my close friend, Candace de Bathory. She emerged from the room clutching her head in her hands going on about how much her head aches. Now sitting across from me on a beanbag chair, she-

“A beanbag chair?! What are you trying to pull here? We live in a giant, luxurious home with more than enough proper chairs and you bring in this shit?!” I roared.

“It’s comfortable! And since when do you make all the rules and regulations for our home?”

“Since I became more powerful than you are, that’s when!”

“Oh no, you are not trying to challenge me because I will take you down!”

“Bring it on you blood-bathing bitch!”

I show her my deadly fangs, thinking I had the advantage and then she so kindly reminds me of her own recent additions. She smiles slyly, but before she could pull out any of her infamous sarcastic remarks, a knock comes at the door. We both look at each other and something in her face tells me she knows exactly who is our mystery guest.

“I’ll get it,” she says with a grin.

Candace saunters over to the door with her right arm out, already prepared to answer to the guest. With her hand on the doorknob, she peers in the peephole. Blushing profusely, she swings open the door to reveal...

“Good evening ladies.”

Dressed impeccably in a full black suit complete with diamond cufflinks, a pale man drifts into the room and tips his hat toward Candace. She stares at him in awe for a moment and regains enough composure to eke out a few words.

“Hello...Sonny. Why are you here?”

“Business or pleasure?” I ask, thoroughly examining my nails.

Candace is obviously a lot more interested— she was fluttering her eyelashes so much I thought that she had an infinite source of sand grains in her eyes.

“Pleasure, of course.”