The Blackmoores were invited into the Manson by a small, cute, light skinned girl who looked remarkably like Praetor. Presumably of his stock, no doubt. Mithias wondered at her name. He had no mind-reading abilities and so she would have to tell him verbally when she saw fit. 

Mithias bowed as he was greeted, "Thank you for inviting us in, Praetor. The Kingstons have always been gracious." He followed the others inside and was led toward the meeting room, which was the dining room. It was quite a feat, really, that the Kingstons had managed to establish themselves to the point that they only drank donated blood. Quite honorable indeed, but it was an austere lifestyle. Mithias respected them highly for it. He knew better than to bring it up, even as a compliment, for it was a point of contention between the families. 

The golden-eyed vampire looked around. Several of the others were dressed more highly than he. He would have to make up for it in personality. "How about those Knicks?" The high bred estranged vampire aristocrat made small talk about the local basketball team.