Vincent looked over at her, a calm look on his face. "When offered a drink, it is rude not to drink it." he said before walking past her. His voice was low and calm, but deep down there were a hint of darkness and a warning. If she didn't drink blood, and a lot of it, whinin the first twenty-four hours of being turned, she would perish. Not only that, by drinking his blood - which she had in her glass - their beond would become stronger with every drop she drank, making it harder for her to deny her fate and him. As he walked past her, he crossed the room and opened a large wardrobe. Looking inside, he soon pulled out a new, clean, white shirt that he dressed himself in - casually leaving a few buttons open.

"The fire has its reasons..." he said mysteriously as he walked closer again. He stopped right behind her, put his hands on her waist and leaned in. "I admire beautiful and powerful things. Such as the fire..." he whispered as he ran one of his hands onto her belly and his lips down her neck. "...such as you." he continued. He could smell his own blood flowing through her vains. He held her close to his chest for a while before letting go - quite reluctantly so, himself.

There was a knock on the door and Vincent let out a bothered sigh before asking the person to enter. Opening the door was a young woman, with the same red eyes and black hair as Vincent.

"Vincent, you're needed downstairs. Your guests have arrived and starts to grow tired of waiting for you." She spoke with attitude in her voice, a fierce glare at the man and a posture that would give no doubt of her status.

"Yes, yes... of course." he said before looking over at Elle again. He didn't smile, he didn't say anything, but his eyes told her he didn't want to leave. Turning to face the woman again, he started walking out of the room. "Keep an eye on her." he said as he walked, but stopped beside the woman. "And don't you dare..."

"I know. Now, go." the woman spoke and watched him leave the room before disapearing down the hallway. Turning around again, her red eyes sticking to Elle. She walked into the room and closed the door behind her. "So... it is you." she spoke as she walked over to Elle - a walk so demanding anyone would move to give her room. "You are the one he chose." she said as her eyes started to inspect her from head to toe. She scuffed as a grin turned up on her face. "He could do so much better." she said before walking over to the small table where the pitcher. She looked at it, but never even touched the pitcher. "His own blood... typical."

The woman sighed before pulling her hands through her long, black hair and sat down in the magestic chair Vincent had been sitting on not too long ago. Her deep red and black dress fit her perfectly and folded nicely as she sat down. "Go on. Don't be shy." she said, looking at Elle before holding out a hand towards the chair on the opposite side of the table. "Take a seat. I won't bit, I swear." she said, her grin returning to her face. "My brother would kill me if I did."