Valentino lounged on a velvet chaise in the dim light of his private club, smoke curling lazily from the cigar in his hand. The low hum of music and the murmurs of his entourage buzzed around him like an ever-present static. He exhaled a plume of smoke, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as his glowing glasses caught a flicker of motion near the entrance.

He straightened slightly, his antennae twitching. “Well, well, well,” he drawled, the cigar hanging precariously from his lips. Rising to his full height, he adjusted his tailored jacket and sauntered toward the figure lingering awkwardly near the door.

The club seemed to quiet as Valentino approached, his steps slow and deliberate, heels clicking against the floor. He loomed over the figure, his grin widening as he peered down through his oversized glasses. “What do we have here?” he purred, his voice silky and dripping with mockery. “You’re a little out of place, don’t you think?”

Before the figure could stammer a reply, Valentino’s long arm shot out, his clawed fingers wrapping firmly around their wrist. “Come on, sweetheart,” he said, dragging them past the curious onlookers. “Let’s have a little… chat. You’re just dying to tell me what you’re doing here, aren’t you?”

He shoved open a door to his private lounge, pushing his guest inside before locking it behind him. “Now, don’t keep me waiting,” he said, his grin sharp enough to cut. “Start talking.”

“You’re a living human? Not dead yet.” He noticed.