Owner	Pose
Daimon Hellstrom	Daimon Hellstrom's mansion in Fire Lake, Massachusetts doesn't quite have the same rarefied air to it as the Hellfire Club's Victorian trappings, even though the house was likely built around the same time. There's a slightly more... malevolent air to the place, in the way that it reflects its owner, and also stemming from how there's quite a bit of dark magic stowed away throughout the estate. Daimon awaits Selene's arrival in the drawing room, though he has no idea if she'll be arriving by portal, by Uber, by flying in through the balcony...
Selene Gallio	There comes gentle rapping, rapping at his chamber door. Selene would not do anything nearly as pedestrian or mundane as an Uber. Although she does tend to move about the city under her power, a distance this great requires the use of her more dominant traits. A simple transportation spell is invoked, and it delivers her just outside of the address provided. Perhaps fortunate, given the cold weather, as she arrives hardly bundled up for the climate, but instead in garb much more applicable to that within the Hellfire Club itself. Although one conceit, as much to style as anything else, is a fur drape that she has added. Black velvet cloth, with sable lining, naturally.
Daimon Hellstrom	Daimon opens the door. "Selene," he says. "Welcome." He's wearing a black suit with a red shirt underneath, no necktie, collar button undone. He holds the door for her, and once she's through and the door is shut, he steps behind her. "May I take your cloak?" He's being perfectly polite, even though as ever with Daimon, there's an edge to his tone, like his social graces are mostly just sarcasm.
Selene Gallio	"Only if you plan to return it," replies Selene. Nontheless she does not wait for an answer, placing her arms back to allow it to slip from her form and towards Daimon's presumbaly waiting hands. "I appreciate the invitation. There are precious few who are willing to extend such to me. Superstition and all that."
Daimon Hellstrom	Daimon takes the cloak and steps over to a coat-closet, to hang it up. "Of course you'll get it back, Selene. It's hardly my size. My shoulders would burst the seams." He's teasing her, but then he's back by her side, to put an arm around her waist and lead her towards the sitting room. "Ah, yes, superstition and all that. Fortunately, you and I have an understanding, don't we?"
Selene Gallio	"I would think perhaps you could save it for use on some other mistress of the dark," replies Selene, looking over at Daimon and offering something of a wan smile. "We do, it would seem, have something of an understanding, yes. I confess I am still curious as to the nature of your summons, however." She allows him to guide her along to the next room, her glances over the decor of the mansion fleeting at best.
Daimon Hellstrom	The Son of Satan has no shame about leading Selene along. He knows her power, and even respects it... but he shows zero fear in being so forward as to take her by the waist. "It's been some time since we've had an opportunity to chat. To bond," Daimon says. "I wanted to make sure you haven't gotten bored of me already." That part is glib sarcasm, really. Daimon moves to the sitting room, and lowers himself into a chair. He pats his lap, almost testing Selene, seeing if she'll sit. "Come. Join me. I imagine we have a fair bit to catch up on, Black Queen."
Selene Gallio	"I grow bored of everything, Daimon. It is the curse of my immortality." Selene flashes a smile towards him as she follows along. "But count yourself fortunate that as yet I have not grown bored of you, no." Following along with his command, Selene lowers herself to his lap as indicated. "Oh? Do tell? What sort of schemes have you been engaging in of late."
Daimon Hellstrom	Daimon's hands rest on Selene -- one on the small of her back, the other on her thighs. "Oh, nothing of consequence just yet. Forging interesting relationships in the occult world. Though that could just be me trying to make you jealous." He seems relaxed -- most people would probably be hyperventilating at the idea of a woman as attractive as Selene sitting on their laps, to say nothing of how dangerous her power is. But Daimon seems confident, secure, in charge. "Jennifer Kale, Opal Moirai, Nico Minoru. Do those names mean anything to you?"
Selene Gallio	"There is very little anyone can do to inspire envy in me, so if that is truly your goal, I can save you the effort." Selene seems unconcerned about the placement of his hands, nor of the words spilling from his mouth. "I am aware of them as rudimentary practioners in the arts of varying levels. Have you taken each of them under your tutelage?"
Daimon Hellstrom	"Mmm. Not as such." Daimon pats Selene's thighs, very gently. "The Minoru girl, perhaps. She's expressed an interest in finding a mentor -- wants to learn how to be a quote-unquote 'real witch.'" Daimon sounds like he could take or leave it, really. "Kale is actually boarding here, for the time being. Safe haven from whatever forces are out to get her. And Moirai and I have just been enjoying getting acquainted with one another." The Prince of Lies offers a crooked little grin at that. "But, no, I know better than to try to make you envious, Selene. What about you -- how have you been indulging your whims, of late?"
Selene Gallio	"I ran into Minoru some time ago, and we had discussed apprenticeship. I could not tell you if I had grown bored at the idea of having a youngster trail around at my heels or if she thought better of it, to be honest. It was a time ago." Selene considers this for a moment. "I am pleased to see that you have guests and some to warm your heart when I am not around. I imagine that your appetites are quite insatiable, so better to spread yourself out than allow those fires to go unquenched." She thinks on his latest. "Honestly, I have not been engaged in much at all. It has been a rather relaxing and pleasant time to be idle and just engage in flights of fancy."
Daimon Hellstrom	Daimon's hand moves to Selene's rear, unashamedly. "Mmm. If /you/ are calling someone insatiable, Selene, I suppose I have no choice but to trust that you know what you're talking about." Her rump gets a perhaps overly familiar squeeze. "Though I'm curious -- what sort of flights of fancy get undertaken by a woman such as yourself?" Daimon lifts his brows, his curiosity genuine. "Someone who has lived through so much, experienced it all, what amusements do you find in the world...?"
Selene Gallio	"Whatever are you insinuating, Daimon?" asks Selene with mock indignation. She does not object to his hand at all, nor react in any way. "Few and far between, I admit. Sometimes it is simply a matter of allowing to see what the flow of indulgences within the Hellfire Club lead me to. Sometimes it is merely watching to see what manages to capture the attention of others." A long, exagerated shrug. "Who is to say, really?"
Daimon Hellstrom	Daimon doesn't move his hand. He chuckles at her description of how she spends her idle time. "Well, if you get too bored, Selene, come to me, and we can arrange a return visit to Hell. You seemed awfully taken by it, the last time I gave you a glimpse. You fit in there so much better than most who experience it."