"Yes, sharp eyes, those," is Victor's wry response, given that he's certain to look out of time and place, what with his fascination with the lighting fixtures in a new place and his general aura, which he's sure has displaced him quite thoroughly. He's still more caught on the lights than his new companion and is sure it shows. The trouble is, he's spent so long amongst the dead that he often forgets how to treat the living.

More power, it was always part of his intention, but short of lightning storms, he hadn't the faintest how to do it. "You're not from a time I can put a name to, and if you are, then it's certainly not a world I'm accustomed to." Though, he's beginning to see the lines of his worlds blurred, that odd demimonde creeping out from the shadows. "Do I dare ask where we are? Or will I regret a question like that?"