vladdyissues

"It's all about how you're perceived, my dear," Vlad said, for once without his smarmy smirk. With his tie undone and shoulders loose, he poked around a charcuterie board, letting his fangs to poke out in a way he never allowed in public. Danny watched attentively from his seat across the counter.   "If the numbers aren't up to par, you shift your focus;"  Vlad reached for the tiny cubes of cheeses and inspected one between his fingers. "Emphasize potential revenues—and I mean revenues, not profits. The bigger the number the better. Make them understand the future they could have than the miserable present they're already living." Vlad's fang caught his lip as he brought the cheese to his mouth, tongue licking his bottom lip. Danny bit his own, the marble counter digging into his stomach.   Vlad caught his eye—just barely a flicker—before continuing his phonecall. With a shift, he raised his arm higher, muscles pulling at the cotton of his suit. The fabric looked ready to pop the seams on the sleeves. Danny could imagine it: the sound of tearing, a disinterested look while Vlad mused about calling his tailor, then turning a half-lidded gaze to the other side of the counter and saying the suit could be a writeoff instead since someone wanted to ruin it so much.   Danny tasted copper and ozone before he realized he was biting on his thumb. He didn't look away from Vlad's biceps. He heard a distant sigh and a vague goodbye before his hand was pulled away and another was set on his jaw, tilting his head up. Vlad was staring at him, his smirk finally making an appearance as it curled along his lips.    "If you wanted something in your mouth, Little Badger," he said, lidded eyes glowing a faint red. "All you had to do was ask."