There was no one else outside––Wolfram didn't have to look to know that. He had been half-afraid that Dianne would follow him, but he hadn't heard from her since the afternoon. Good. The last thing he wanted was the vampire to think that he had betrayed his trust when he had given the location of his hideout so freely.
The door closed. There was no turning back now.
"I have eaten. I hope this isn't too early for you. Have you fed?" He followed the vampire into the living room, slowly taking in the brightness of the room. It wasn't really in him to properly appreciate the furniture or the decor, but the high ceiling and the openness it implied was welcoming. He had the sudden urge to just stand there, head thrown back and stretch his arms (wings) out. It eased some of the remaining nerves from him more effectively than any reassurances could have.
He drew in a deep breath and rolled his neck, before his gaze cut to the vampire by his side. "You are surprisingly considerate. More considerate than any of the vampires I've encountered in the past." That was candidly spoken, but the firmness of his tone made it clear that some of the tension had left him. It didn't escape his notice that the vampire himself wasn't quite as smooth and unruffled as he had seemed the night before––that helped Wolfram relax a bit more as well. At least now he knew that he wasn't the only one not entirely enthusiastic about the binding.
Wolfram could have contemplated how his choice of seating reflected on his wants and power, but the thought didn't even cross his mind as he put his bag down and settled a chair. He shrugged the trench coat off his broad shoulders and less it carelessly draped over his bag, and when he sat back, he could feel the downy softness of the throw against the back of his neck. "Do I have to do anything to prepare?"