“Hello, princess,” said Lord Maccon to the vampire. “Got yourself into quite a pickle this time, didn't you?” Lord Akeldama looked him up and down. “My sweet young naked boy, you are hardly one to talk. Not that I mind, of course.”

“Lord Maccon, might we have words on the proper tying of a cravat? For my sanity’s sake?Lord Maccon was nonplussed. Professor Lyall, on the other hand, was pained. “I do what I can.” Lord Akeldama looked at him, pity in his eyes. “You are a brave man.”

“Lord Akeldama sighed. 'You lovebirds, how will I endure such flirtations constantly in my company? How déclassé, Lord Maccon, to love your own wife.”

“Lord Maccon looked up. “Grovel, you say?” Lyall did not glance away from the latest vampire report he was perusing. “Grovel, my lord.”

“No, Lord Maccon was riproaring, tumble down, without a doubt, pickled beyond the gherkin.”

“My dearest girl,' said the vampire finally, examining Lord Maccon with an exhausted but appreciative eye, 'such a banquet. Never been one to favor werewolves myself, but he is very well equipped, now, is he not?'Miss Tarabotti gave him an arch look. 'My goodies,' she warned.Humans,' chuckled the vampire, 'so possessive.”