As they walked, Jerusha and Nestor, the vampiress smiled up at her escort this night. He need not have worried in the least, Jerusha took no offense at his railing against the names, in concept at the very least. For a brief moment, Jerusha wondered if [i]she[/i] had offended [i]him,[/i] feeling the slightest of flinches when she took his arm in such a simple, time-honored gesture. Still, Nestor did not pull away, settling in easily enough - or at least pretending to well enough from all she could see. 

Laughing softly, she peered down to look to the emaciated, blue-eyed dog, who in turn looked up to her as she spoke. "Have no worries, bold and fearless hound. If Master Grimsley must rail against the injustice of names and the assault they make on the mirage of personality? Well then we must simply let the gentleman have his prerogative in the matter of not giving you a moniker."

"Even so," she continued, winking up at Nestor conspiratorially before she looked back to the dog, "As afflicted as I am with my own Christian name? Lady Wilde will still not let you go without one. I christen you... 'Anonyme.'" The word flowed from her lips with a silken Parisian air. "After all, we cannot disregard his wisdom [i]utterly[/i]."

Jerusha bent to pat Anonyme's head affectionately before her attention returned to Nestor, eminently amused by the labyrinthine twists and turns his conversation took, almost as if he spoke in a near endless stream of consciousness. As he promised, the walk was neither terribly long nor arduous, and ended before a rather nondescript door before an equally nondescript building - not, of course, that the vampiress was disappointed in the least. Jerusha had long since discovered the most delightful and terrifying and magnificent things could be found beneath common rough twine and plain brown wrapping.

"Oh Master Grimsley" the vampiress replied gently, patting the arm she had entwined with her own almost reassuringly. "Perhaps I am too young yet as a Child of Cain - barely two decades removed from a mortal life - to feel the weight of time disappear entirely from my thoughts. True enough, this body [i]is[/i] dead, but the human woman who lived, and loved - and loves still - and would have died in a matter of days with consumption? She has gone nowhere at all. I am still me, even if it seems a conceit to say such a thing of 'a coincidental concoction of experiences' after all."

Jerusha laughed softly, shaking her head. "But no, we are not here to talk of [i]me.[/i] I should very much like to meet your 'curious people.' Please do lead on - and what is that curious ticking, Nestor? All this talk of time... Clockwork? How lovely! Anonyme, come boy!" Jerusha called, slapping the edges of her skirts as Nestor led her past the unassuming door.