Eric was careful to take the coat for himself, rather than let the crowd whisk it away until it disappeared. It was part of the Quincy's outfit, and he could tell hand-sewn. It would be easy to track down, to track back to him, or to whoever ended up with it, and he was nothing if not meticulous to detail.

For a moment he wondered what the boy saw, what painted itself before his eyes with the help of the drug in his system, but Eric had very little interest in the effects of V beyond how biddable it made his victims, and the money it added to his private account. Money and power--you could live an eternity with that.

And just as easily throw it all away for something special. Something particular.

"I can think of somewhere."

Eric stepped back again, and with his hand out before him, let the Quincy hold it, guiding Uryuu after him, walking backward without looking as the crowd made room for them like they were allowing royalty to pass. He should take him to the stage--he didn't.

The basement was cool, and there was a breeze from the central-air of the subway tunnels that linked onto it, cut off from the Darkness above. This was his personal dungeon, and it was not meant to be warm, not like the club above, where the heat made hearts beat faster, and the smell of bodies a thick, living mire that overwhelmed predator and prey alike.

The decorations, on the other hand, were questionable, but perhaps only to someone in command of all their senses. He circled his prey, smiled his cool smile, leant in close enough to his shoulder to smell the sweat clinging to his collarbone, settling in the hollow of his throat.

"You're burning up. Perhaps you should take off the rest of your clothes."