Sophie straightens up as you enter, smoothing her dress down with one hand while she keeps the wine glass perfectly balanced in the other.
"Wouldn't you like to know," she winks back, pulling out a hand fan and popping it open to waft it towards her face and cleavage, which you remembered had not tan lines.
You find a name card with your name on it at the base of the table, a shiny varnished slab of old dark hard wood that reflects the flickering flames in the fireplace. The light dances and twinkles off the crystal decanters and glasses on the table and the sterling silverware and serving dishes.
Just as you sit down, there is a sharp clicking of heels behind you at the entrance and you see the butler bowing low.
"Announcing the Master of the House," The Butler projects clearly with a flourish of his arm, "Mr Sinclaire."
Sophie hurriedly stands and drops down into a curtsy at the announcement and Mr Sinclaire strides into the room.
The White Wolf's fur is flecked in silver highlights, not a single strand out of place or fallen on his dinner jacket. His pale blue eyes afire in the dark as they seem to stare at everything and take in every details and you notice his lower jaw hangs slightly open, almost constantly, allowing him to predatorily suck in more air to analyse for any scent of prey.
"Mr Shinz," he pauses, eyes transfixed on yours, "I presume."
He snaps his clawed fingers at the butler as he strides towards the table, each smooth long stride impeccably measured and somehow threatening to watch. Sophie remains frozen in her curtsy until Sinclaire takes his seat and gives her an off handed wave to take her seat.
"I must apologise..." he pauses, eyes snapping to the butler who appears at his side, drinks tray in hand, and hands him a glass before returning instantly to what he was saying as if there had never been an interruption, "... for not greeting you in person sooner. Business, you understand, distracts from courtesy, like the hunt."
The butler slides gracefully across to the you, tray remaining perfectly balanced as he steps to offer you a drink as well. On the tray you see the same bottle of single malt scotch you had received from Sophie yesterday, along with a small bucket of ice and several mixers in their own decanters.