Beatrix couldn't help but notice that Ali's words had a little more bite to them than usual. It appeared as though the night's events had ruffled his feathers a bit more than he was letting on. He mentioned going to put on his Sunday best and Trixie wondered if she had any clothing that really fit the bill. Even in her human life, Trixie was never much a church-goer, and she wasn't about to start dressing like one either. Modest dress was for prudes and pretenders. When you have goods to offer, you must put them on display, and when those goods are fetched for as high a price as Beatrix de La Croix, you have to make sure the buyers know that they are worth it.

Trixie shook her head to drive out the thought. No, that was The Madame talking, and she had put that voice to sleep long ago - or so she thought, but no, that Blod boy woke her up again. And what an immensely pleasurable way to wake up. No, it wasn't a good thing. Guilty, she must feel guilty for straying in such a way. What would he think? He? He being Francis? ...Alistair? Beatrix bit her lip and closed her eyes.

Instead of letting herself dwell, Trixie put her focus on the contents of her closet. Right, pick an outfit, that's where this all started. Her fingers thumbed through the varying textures of fabric until they settled on the perfect choice. A little black dress that was a cross between something you might see at a wealthy person's funeral, or see a Russian spy wearing. The most important features were that it left her cleavage just the right amount exposed and the open keyhole back offered easy access to her holstered weapons. After piling her ebony curls in a loose updo and putting on a light splash of make-up to make her ethereal blue eyes pop even more, she headed out the door to the Kingston abode.

She rolled up in her small, sleek hybrid car and stepped out, looking the picture of elegance. The Kingstons only knew her as savage and a killer, she would show them her classier side on this occasion... that is, until the politics get too boring and someone has to bleed just to liven up the place. Beatrix smiled at Alistair upon her arrival, hoping that his little blood meal might have lifted his mood some.