Lucien steps into the smoke-hazed room, waving a hand in front of his face, and takes stock of the decorations lining every wall from floor to ceiling.
He whistles low and impressed. "Quite the collection."
The kitsune smiles fondly around her pipe, exhales through her nose.
"Gifts. From suitors. Ten years' worth." she says. "Nine hundred fifty-six, in total. I treasure every single one."
"You must leave quite the impression," he says, "to build a hoard like that."
"You'll know soon enough," she replies, "what kind of impression I make."
"That sounds a little scary."
"I can be very scary." A slow smile. "If you play your cards right."
Lucien bites his lip. "I like where this meeting is going."
Serenith groans behind him.
The kitsune taps her pipe clean and rises, winding, gown sliding around her curves like ink. "Kamiko. Owner and operator of Pooky's Pleasure Palace."
"Lucidius," he says, easy and far too confident, "Demon Lord of the Ashlands. But you can call me Lucien."
