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Val smirked, and shrugged. "i don't mind a little Blood on my clothes, in fact i find it entertaining and stylish. still, a fresh outfit would make a nice impression in a high-brow event like this..." he conceded, rifling thorugh the wardrobe.

"do you want first pick, dear?" he asked, turning to Cass.

"If you don't mind my saying so, Lady Cassandra," Devonte murmured as he was about to leave. "I am sure he will survive, but I would be remiss in my responsibilities if I did not examine him and give whatever comfort the castle can offer. He looks very pale, as if a unit of blood would not go astray. Do not fear for the impression he might make on other guests. If nothing else, I am the soul of discretion."

Then Cassandra asked him to help pick out a dress, and his heart nearly beat with excitement. "I'm afraid I will have to leave that to Master Valthier," he said, regrettably. He vowed to himself that he would return as quickly as possible. "I have my work."

He left, half carrying/half dragging Jamie down the halls to another guest suite where Alfons rested from his brush with death.

Markius let himself in while only made of gas, he rematerialized onto a chair. Rising he acted as if he had been there this entire time. Markius could sense the presence of the vampires, roughly determine their ages, and feel the blood pounding in the veins of the humans. "Not one even compares to me in age. I do hope that they at least predate that accursed industialization." He walked through the halls until coming across the main chamber. A few were waltzing around, some horribly out of rythm with the german music.

Markius locked eyes with some pitiful human and forced her to his side. Setting his cane aside he forced her to waltz with him, her bones could barely handle the movements he led with, he could hear her blood racing, her heart pounding in agony. He only smiled in recognition at how frail humans had become so quickly, yet he continued to waltz, increasing his pace. She was going to die if he moved only a slight bit faster.

Val smirked and grunted a chuckle at being left to decide Cassandra's new outfit. he did so enjoy being put in charge of things like that.

"heh. well, let us see here...." he said softly, letting his "r" linger in a long purr. he rifled through the dresses, pulling out one every once in a while and giving it an up-and-down observation, but putting right back with a grunt.

after a while he found one that he held up to Cass, and compared it, stroking his chin with his pointer and thumb. it was a Dark Blue dress, with striped Maroon-and-Black Corset sewn in. the style was Russian with obvious Western Influences, being a flowing draping cloth in the Skirt without a slip underneath, and similar style to the sleeves, which went down to the elbows, with ribbons hanging from them, yet the collar being rectangular and laced.

"this one. put it on, dear." he commanded casually.

his head was awhirl. he hadn't used telepathy before, so wasn't sure how to do it.

"it most certainly is, darling. quite form-complimenting." he said.

in telepathy, .... .s it? s.meth... ..ong?

Markius had had his fun and proved his theory that even here humans were pitiful. Setting the girl in a seat he erased her memory of him forced her to believe her name was Wretch, and took up his cane. With unnatural grace he made his way through a few pairs and stood next to the staircase, he eyed the hostess and knew she could hear his thoughts if he so wished it with a smile he broadcast his thoughts loudly enough for her to hear; "A fine ball you have here young one. I am Markius and I only came to speak with the dead of the castle." With that the ancient vampire made his way up the stairs, feigning a limp. Once above he took a seat and awaited the hostess or her brother to greet him properly.

Ciro noticed the new guest too. Something about him made Ciro's hair stand on end. He also realized that Scarlet was keeping an eye on the stranger, and then did the same. "I kinda wish I still had my USP... but oh well. If he does anything stupid (like I did, heh) it'll be a chance to test any new abilities I've gained."

-----------------------------

Alfons stopped singing the moment Devonte and Jamie walked in. He turned his head to observe, and was quite angry. "Verdammt! You should've left a long time ago. Scheiße!"

Jamie responded to Devonte's question. "There's a bullet hole in my right arm...." He trailed off as he realized he was still carrying his Thompson in his left hand. "Uh-oh," He thought. He was stunned at how it went unnoticed.

Alfons saw Jamie's "Oh s**t" face, and then he discovered the Thompson in his hand. "Ficken."

Scarlet bristled at Markius' mental taunting. This was her party, and she'd be thrice damned if some uninvited dusty relic of an ancient would crash it and harm her guests. She couldn't tell if this new arrival was Red Court or Black Court, but she suspected the latter. He gave her chills--an accomplishment when someone had neither pulse nor metabolism to fuel body heat. She could sense that he had done something to his dancing partner, but she wasn't old enough to know what. Devonte was only just coming into his empathic skills, and it would take several decades before either of them would be telepathic, let alone have the skills she suspected Markius wielded.

"Come, precious," she said to Ciro. "We have a new guest and must greet him properly." She took her new employee's hand, although if it was for her comfort or just because she didn't want him to far away from her, even she couldn't tell. Carefully, the pair weaved through the oblivious guests to the foot of the staircase where Markius had disappeared.

______________________________

"Fine. And you may place your weapon on the night stand. It will not be touched. Such loud, messy things...guns," Devonte muttered as he gathered the necessairy medical tools to treat Jamie's arm. He'd caught the alarm from both men regarding the tommy, but Devonte honestly couldn't care less about the thing. It wasn't as if it could do him much harm, and he could easily bend the barrel if either man became agressive with it.

Taking care, he cut away the bloody sleeve and inspected the wound. The bullet had gone clean through, leaving the bone and major tendons untouched, which was a small mercy for Jamie. Devonte deftly cleaned and disinfected the wound, and then rubbed it with a local painkiller before stitching the hole closed on each side of Jamie's arm with delicate stitches. Then he smeared an antiseptic cream over the stitches and bound it with a clean linnen bandage. Carefully manovering Jamie's arm, Devonte arranged it in a sling.

"When it stops hurting like hell every time you move it, come to me and we can take out the stitches," he instructed. "And if you have illusions of running before it is healed, then you will answer directly to Scarlet. Have I made myself clear?"