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Once he had walked through the house and up the stairs Zangrel felt almost sure the two minutes had passed. He got to the doorway and watched a very sweaty man pacing in front of him. "Let's not keep him waiting..."

Frank jumped, surprised by Zangrel’s sudden appearance, realizing he’d been lost in his worrying again. He nodded and mumbled an answer shakily, not even sure if he used real words. Frank didn’t have a watch, but he could guess he didn’t have much time left, if any. He cleared his throat, a quiet sound but he hoped enough to get Zangrel’s attention as they walked though the castle. “Uh… so,” He started, his voice unsteady, “…Do I look alright?” He didn’t know why he was looking for reassurance from the large man, who he’d hardly spoke a word too before, but the silence was unnerving and the guy had been showing him around the house all night.

Zangrel had been walking and trying to ignore the stench of human sweat when the man behind him had done something unexpected. He'd talked to him with more of a respectable tone, not a terrified one. Sure he was nervous as all hell, but he was no longer afraid of him, he was more scared of what Iram was thinking he was sure. He turned and stopped in the hall. "You have exactly 26 seconds to walk down the hall and to the right. It should only take about 10 seconds." He leaned down a brushed his think fingers through Frank’s hair and tugged on his collar a little. "You look fine. I have seen him with much lesser men… and women..." He then stood to Frank’s side and put one large hand on his back and gave him a shove to start walking again.

Frank smiled, a little put at ease by Zangrel’s words and his friendly gestures. “Thank you for showing me the way…” He said after heading down the hallway again with the help of a shove start. “And for everything else too.” he added softly, no quite under his breath but not loud enough where he thought it would be heard. At the end of the hall Frank turned to the right, entering the dinning hall where he saw Iram sitting at the head of the table, waiting for him.

The hall was covered in lavish luxuries. From the painted ceiling, to the gold molding, to the marble tiling and huge 30 person mahogany banquet table. If Frank were too study the ceiling it was a hand painted mural of Dracula sitting in a golden gilded throne with naked women laying on the floor near and around him and one draped over his lap, her breast with a red bite mark on it. Frank would have to walk a long distance just to go sit down. The chairs we all very pretty dark stained wood with tall backs and red silk embroidered cushions. The only chair that stood out was Iram's, and it was just a tiny bit taller and wider, other than that it was entirely fitting in with the dinning set. The other thing that stood out about the furniture was the chair that had so obviously been pulled out for Frank and had several silver domes sitting in front of it which one would assume were food covered to keep warm. The rest of the table was covered in a long thin table cloth of a fine crimson fabric that hung over the ends. For lighting, the room was lit by large candles in ornate candelabras, which were silver in color, but white gold in material. To their left, was a huge pair of glass windows that opened to a gorgeous balcony covered in dark red and black roses instead of a railing, or if there was a railing it was entirely covered by them. To their right, in the corner closest to Iram, was a huge black grand piano with it's lid sitting open and in front of the piano, was a dark wood cello leaning in a stand. The lid of the piano had more dark red roses draped over it like a wreath of tightly knitted stems. The walls of the room were covered in huge heavy deep crimson curtains that showed no sign of moving recently or ever.

Iram was sitting eying the grand father clock that was now right next to Frank and viewing them side by side it was inches taller than him. The face on the clock was mother of pearl and the arms were white gold. He was wearing a beautiful red with gold embroidery along the edges suit, which looked so soft and perfect, a king could be buried in it; fitting considering he was dead, and right now looked much like a king sitting at the head of the table in a huge hall. His neck was complimented by a white frill that was just a shade lighter than his skin, and his hands had similar frills. His hair was slightly tamer but just as pale and his eyes were actually getting darker than they should be.

Iram's eyes moved from the clock to Frank in one smooth motion and the old clock started chiming. It was now midnight, and somehow Zangrel had saved Frank from being late again, even though Iram was almost positive he would have ensured him being late. The soft wet flesh of his tongue darted out and licked his lips, wetting them. He reached over for the wine bottle. "Please... sit. Eat, and drink. For I am sure you are hungry and you haven't made me wait for your company."

The smooth trickling of red wine into two tall wine glasses was the only sound in the room besides Frank's heavily nervous breathing. Iram's eyes were never off him, even when he poured the wine.

Frank’s eyes wondered around the large space, attempting to take everything in without gawking. He had never seen anything like it before; of course he was getting a little used to being shocked by Iram’s things, his lifestyle so completely different from his own. Finally his attention came back to his host, the chimes of the grandfather clock standing beside him dying down before he heard Iram speak. Frank felt his voice catch in his throat, Iram’s gaze never leaving his presence as he made the long walk to the seat obviously intended for him. He cleared his throat, trying not to mumble his words as he sat down. “Th-thank you, Iram...” Frank absently fiddled with the cuff of his shirt, while he was dressed fittingly his ensemble paled in comparison to Iram’s. The deep blue color matched well with his eyes and with Zangrel’s help his hair didn’t look as hopeless as before, the complete outfit looked rather dashing actually. Frank swallowed, daring himself to catch Iram’s gaze after taking in the room once more, hoping he didn’t look as nervous as he felt. “You look very…” He struggled to find the word, “Handsome, yes but no; fetching, yes but; elegant…no; regal…” “Nice.” He felt his cheeks warm a moment later, embarrassed by his lack of grace. Frank shifted in his seat and quickly continued as he reached for the top one of the domes sitting in front of him to peek inside, “So what’s for dinner?”

Upon closer inspection of Iram's attire, Frank would now be able to see that he was wearing two finger rings that covered his whole two middle fingers, metal of some kind inlaid elaborately with red jewels, and hinges at the knuckles. And when he picked up the second glass to give the wine to Frank the tips of them made a gentle clink. A sound that would not have been noticeable had this entire table been in use, but with the two of them it was so noticeable it rang in his ears. Iram blinked a few times, slightly annoyed by the sound and cleared his throat. "Ut-heh... I believe it involves a lot of meat. Zangrel likes to go hunting and when he prepares human food there is usually meat involved." Iram smiled and took off one of the lids revealing two huge turkey legs resting on a bed of lettuce, stuffed under the skin with herbs and goat cheese. Iram wrinkled his nose in disgust wiped his fingers on the silken napkin to his left. After he had "soiled" the napkin he unfolded it and put it on his lap in tradition. He didn't plan on eating anything that would need such precautions, but it felt comfortable to have it there. Iram turned to Frank and waited for him to open the other two lids so they could both see what else had been prepared. He then set the glass of wine in front of Frank hoping to encourage him to drink a bit. He also looked at his napkin wondering if he had any manners at all and sighed figuring he didn't. "Do you like fruit? I know you liked the grapes I gave you before... maybe I should have gotten more for this meal..." He trailed off a little absently trying to make small talk, when he very well knew the many things that could be on the both of their minds.

As the smell of the cooked meat reached Frank’s nostrils he felt his stomach rumble in response. He could barely hear the soft sound but the dish had such a delectable aroma he felt like he hadn’t eaten in days. “Wow, Zangrel really knows how to cook! Those legs smell delicious!” Frank said, not completely surprised as he remembered his earlier meal. He swallowed, realizing he was salivating with his anticipation to dig into the feast, and noticed the wine glass Iram had placed in front of him. Near the glass was the napkin intended for Frank, he looked over at Iram, trying not to be obvious as he attempted to grasp the “proper” way to use it. Normally he either would have tucked it under his collar or just set it aside to grab at when necessary, but he figured that wouldn’t be appropriate in this situation. For a moment he considered asking but changed his mind and just haphazardly folding it in his lap. He smiled weakly, picking up the wine glass and taking a hearty sip in an attempt to relax. “I don’t get much of a chance to have fresh fruit, but I enjoy it when I can…” Frank replied softly as he replaced the glass with a slight hic-up before clearing his throat. “Maybe there’s some with the other dishes, let’s check.” His smile warmed up a little at the thought of more food and without hesitation Frank removed the remaining domes from there dishes, eager to see what was inside.

Underneath the two silver lids were very fine dishes. The first had a large pile of lamb ribs with what looked like a red wine glaze, and the second had a small round cut of fillet mignon, sitting on a pile of mashed potatoes, with another salty dark sauce drizzled over it. Iram looked at him slightly eager to see if the dishes were enticing to Frank. He smiled when he saw that Frank was nearly salivating. He'd watched as Frank had taken a drink of the wine, he had been tempted to say, 'Do you think that's wine you’re drinking..." but had thought the better of it and decided it wasn't the best "joke" considering the circumstances. "Did you like the wine? It was ..." He hesitated for a moment and looked at Frank eying the food, and wasn't sure if he should continue sitting at the table. Hastily, he tried to change the subject, "If you like this... I can have it prepared for you often... if..." He again hesitated. For some reason trying to talk to Frank was harder than convincing a werewolf to not stare at the full moon. He swallowed dryly in his throat, and considered drinking some wine, but even though alcohol was the only thing human he could still divulge in, he decided he didn't want the indigestion, or the heavy craving for blood that would always follow consumption of it. He then eyed Frank's outfit, it was the first time he'd really taken his eyes off his face and admired what he'd picked out. Finally he had something descent to say, "You look very handsome... I know these clothes make you uncomfortable though... but it's tradition that everyone entering this dining room wears the proper attire. I could... always help you get a little more comfortable..." His eyes narrowed a little wondering if he'd really said the last bit or not.

Frank’s eyes widened at the variety of the dishes; Iram was right, there was a lot of meat involved. How could he possibly decide which to try first? There certainly was more then enough for him and he felt a little guilty he had been giving so much. Iram had already made it clear he didn’t eat this kind of meal, Frank wondered for a moment if he understood what a normal serving size was. He found himself catching a chuckle in the back of his throat as he thought about it, jesting internally that Iram was just trying to fatten him up. “Then again…” Frank pushed that thought aside; he didn’t want to think that was the only reason Iram accepted his company. Iram’s attempt at conversation caught his attention and a hint of a blush crept into his cheeks as he cleared his throat. “Th-thank you, I’m glad I was able to pick out something suitable…” He couldn’t help himself; he reached for another drink of wine, anything to give him a moment to think. “I, uh…” “Damn, what do I say?” He swallowed, trying to collect his thoughts again as they seemed to scatter to the wind every time he opened his mouth. “I don’t, I’m not… I mean; I’m sure I’ll adjust…”

Iram watched his face as he talked, with a certain curiosity. Frank was pretty easy to read and he could sense the fear, and somewhat confusion in his body language. Those last words, those last four little words were enough to invoke his anger. He'd been so delighted to see him and spend time with him finally, and now he was ready to strangle something or someone. The long slender pale fingers that had been sitting calmly on the edge of the table were now gripping the edges of either side rather tightly; under them wood started cracking with the growing pressure. Iram stood up rather quickly and the candles started flickering in the room. "You'll adjust?" He gritted his perfect white teeth together and the word adjust had a dark disgust in it. "To what; having perfectly catered meals made just for you, to having sex whenever you want it AND NEVER HAVING TO WORK A DAY IN YOUR LIFE? YOU INGRATE!" He gripped the fine edges of the red fabric table cloth, "YOU'LL ******** ADJUST?!" His voice bellowed through the hall and echoed through the mansion. It was like a great storm emanating from a man. He pulled everything onto the floor and the candles caught the table cloth on fire, and he wrinkled his face in anger. He looked at Frank with furious and deep red almost completely black eyes, and slammed his open hand onto the table. He looked down in fury at the cracks on Dracula's table, and turned to leave the room. With a small motion of his hand, like the silence called for by a conductor of a huge orchestra the fire ceased, "I'm going out." and with that he left Frank in smoke again, alone before he could leave a word of response.

Soon heavy naked feet padded into the room and Zangrel looked at frank and the mess and uneaten food. "What did you do now, Frank... What did you do now...?" He sighed his hair was all messy like he'd been sleeping and his eyes were bloodshot.

Frank finally managed to swallow the lump in his throat soon after Zangrel arrived; he was so confused and not to mention scared by Iram’s reaction. What did Iram want from him, how was he supposed to know without being told. He was grateful for all Iram gave him; looking back he guessed he hadn’t shown it very well at all. He sighed heavily and looked toward the door Iram had left out of with a sliver of anguish in his eyes. “What did I do?”