Leaning back against a white wall while on his bed, Clement was inevitably lost in his thoughts again. The idea of serving the royal family had no longer bothered him, in fact it had comforted him to know he was still needed, regardless of what was simmering inside of him. It was unnatural, an abomination as the news called him but he saw it as something different, something that could help him change the world. His amber eyes peered through the darkness, staring at the vein-like crack in the wall opposite of him, knowing that it fell from the ceiling and stopped only after it pass behind his small Victorian painting. The painted that depicted a mighty dragon soaring over a prairie, its flames bursting from his maw in a luminescent stream of fiery fury. 

[i]The picture undoubtedly makes me feel better,[/i] he admitted before a intricate knock rapped on his metal door. 

With a wayward glance towards the corner of his small room, a hidden lantern sparked to life, suffusing the majority with a orange and warm glow. [b]"Come in,"[/b] He told the person, unwilling to say more than needed. 

A gentle push of the door reveal a generic being, a male with cropped hair and brown eyes, his clothes the typical butlers or manservant. "You have a meeting. The message is as followed," said the man, pulling out a cellphone. " A mandatory meeting will be held in conference room 345B of the East Wing at precisely 9:30 A.M. Yes, I am aware of the short notice. This is not by my account. All members of the Hounds are assigned to report. When you arrive, take your seat. I will be waiting to discuss the current matters. All policies apply." 

Clement raised a wild eyebrow up before pulling himself off the wall and bed. [b]"Thank you, Ben. I appreciate it."[/b] After watching the man walk out, Clement started changing out of his lounging clothes and into his "Hound" attire. Grabbing a white dress-shirt, black vest, crisp black trousers, and aristocratic black shoes from his closest; he put each individual piece on before finally striding out the door and clipping the golden buttons of his vest together. Being outside the room had flipped a switch that was often hovering in the middle of two extremes. He had to calm his mind to a perpetual state. His [i]powers[/i] required it. 

His shoes clapped against the floor as he made his way to the conference room, it was important that he was never late, important that he maintained the semblance of the royal family in both appearance and presence. With his hands tucked casually in his pockets, his wool-like hair stylishly messy, all for his edges and semi-faded sides, Clement made his way to the location. Once there, he opened the door and grabbed a empty seat, leaning back and closing himself off to the rest of the world.