@stigranselm
The very first thing Cillian did once he had gotten his things into his suite was head to the bar. Call him predictable, but he always loved a good drink after a long distance of travelling. It was routine by now, one of the only ones he really kept. The vampire had slipped onto a bar stool and ordered a glass of blood-wine, adjusting the way his button up was tucked into his pants. His usual over-dressed outfits were packed away, for once he was toned down in a plain button-up and dress slacks, though the luxury brand who made them kept him feeling fancy enough.
His drink had just been pushed towards him, the welcomed taste of relaxation just barely greeting his tongue before his ears were perking at that sound of a familiar voice. It wasn't just familiar, no, Cillian knew that voice like the back of his hand, had it ingrained into his head. How interesting. He hadn't received word from his husband in almost a month, which for his husband, he was practically ignoring Cillian and telling him he hated him. He had started to grow worried, not that Stigr wasn't a man who could handle himself in any situation, but how could he not when a letter once a week turned into none?
The vampire's eyes peered out around the bar, it took barely three seconds for him to land on the back of his head. As if Cillian wouldn't recognize him anywhere, anytime. He abandoned his wine, the first worrying sign; Cillian never left wine behind, and almost too calmly made his way over to him. "Stigr Anselm," He spoke, arms crossing tightly over his chest. Second worrying sign, he never called his husband by his name, let alone his full name. "I see you're enjoying yourself. You haven't been forgetting something, have you?"
