He beamed a little as she disappeared into the orchestra room, a cacophony of tuning instruments. ‘Whither away, mademoiselle?’ he said grimly, ungently grasping her arm above the elbow. “I believe,” he said, “that you mean me to be Prime Minister. But the recollection of the warm pliant body in his arms …! "I am a thief!" he whispered. You can live just about how you like. We vampires have awesome powers of regeneration, given adequate donors.
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