[@dragonmancer]

Amid the hubbub of meeting and socializing, and as the hour had grown too late for anyone to expect any more arrivals, no one had thought to check the entryway on the first floor. The room was empty, save for a man lying on the floor exhausted with a hood over his eyes, yet the sounds of conversation and smells of morning food wafted in from the rest of the building. The air was warm, comfortable as set by the heating system, and inviting. Several moments passed, yet the man continued to lay there almost stubbornly. 

Mithias listened as the young man's breathing quieted to near silence, yet the vampire could still hear it matching the slight rise and fall of Drake's chest. Quietly, and slowly, the vampire approached the person lying on the floor. One soft footstep after another in dress shoes, stealthy, like a cat intentionally avoiding alerting its prey. The floorboards betrayed his closeness with a creak, and the vampire came to stand just behind Drake's head. 

As the light dimmed around him with Mithias' form blocking the window, Drake would become aware of someone standing there, looming over him impolitely. Just as Drake would have moved, would have thrown up his hood and protested at the lack of consideration, a hand appeared above Drake in his visual field. It was a very pale skinned hand, a man's hand, with the nails longer and sharper than they should have been. It was attached to an arm that bore a white sleeve with a sparkling silver cufflink and a silvery-grey suit jacket that extended above where Drake could see. In that hand was delicately held... a muffin.