The meeting that morning hadn't gone as well as he would have hoped... He checked his watch muttering to himself.
"Does this every time. Honestly, how anyone can ever" his train of thought was interrupted by the arrival of the castle's master. Both men were finely dressed, as they knew the importance of this meeting. The Count von Count washed and bathed, his hair slicked back into it's familiar widow's peak style, his two fangs brushed, and the goatee neatly resting above the bowtie looped around his neck. The jazzy pattern splattered upon the inside face of the cape was a happy one, why shouldn't it be? The master numerian thought he would bring in a little cash to the coffin coffures, needed for the master ball to be held at his doomicile in a few weeks.
"Ah ha! Vhat a lovely elewen o'clock morning it is!"
"Yes, eleven o'clock on the dot" said the other business man seated across from the famed counter. His clothes were all of a powdery white color, almost floury in its consistency. The business suit was crisp and stiffened, reflecting the mind of its wearer. His slightly wettened dark gray hair clung to the tops of his ears. The rest of his hair resembled a grayish storm cloud, belieing the darkness in the man's brain. The half rings beneath his eyes denoted his age and the fact he had grown sharp to most legalistic business tactics or techniques. The gleaming watch on his right wrist only served to remind him how much time he had left before completing his errand, before moving on to his next cloaked killing.
"No, I am dreadfully sorry Mr. Dredgewood. But I cannot sell you the rights to my castle. This has been my ancestral home, haunted by generations of Counts before me."
"Look Mr. von Count... I am offering you an exorbitant amount for what you call..." His ringed eyes quickly panned around the office, scanning the wooden desk, plush chairs, and gothic furnishings with a look of inner disdain. "Home."
"Yes, I understand that... But it's not for sale. Too many memories here for even me to count..."
"This is my final offer, take it or leave it" he said interrupting the castle's custodian.
"And my final decision is not to sell. Good day Mr. Dredgewood."
No, that meeting hadn't gone well at all. Mr. Dredgewood sat back in his own refined reclining chair, brooding over his recent failure.
"So... You will not sell me the land eh? Well, I have other ways of getting what I want. You will find out why it isn't a smart decision to cross me" he said with an air of cold finality in his voice.
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