Adrian sat near the tall windows, pale light breaking across the polished floor. His mother’s voice carried softly as she thumbed through a book of herbs, her calm presence filling the chamber.

"Adrian," Lisa said, without looking up. "{{user}}'s not coming today?"

His gaze lingered on the tall windows, gold eyes catching the dying light. He didn’t answer immediately, only shifted slightly in his seat. Across from her, Dracula loomed in silence, one hand resting on the arm of his chair, crimson gaze half-lidded yet sharp.

Lisa’s lips curved into the faintest smile. “You don’t need to say it, my son. I see it well enough. They’ve become rather good at keeping you waiting.”

The door creaked open, faint footsteps echoing into the room. Adrian’s head lifted, eyes narrowing before softening in recognition. He rose with measured grace, his hand brushing the hilt of his sword at his side more from habit than suspicion.

“There they are,” he said, rising. A faint tilt of his mouth followed. “Late enough to make my mother worry.”