(no subject)

If Dorian was pressed, he would admit that his mother had taste. Not style, not glamour, certainly not jaw dropping sense of aesthetics that his father had possessed, but she did possess taste and a faultless sense of what was appropriate. Which explained why, even though he was bored to tears by the party, he still found himself faintly impressed by the event.

He made an early escape into the main room, hoping that he could circumvent any attempt by his mother to get him to make nice with his soon-to-be-relatives. If they were anything like the Eberbachs he'd met, the best way to handle them would be to avoid them.

(no subject)

He gestured at the stack of invitations. "I thought this was going to be a small affair."

Klaus shrugged. "Some family would have to be invited. It's best to get family meetings over with."

Dorian leaned back in the chaise longue. "You mean, you're trying to get the obligatory family visits over with all at once?"

"Yes. There is..." And a self-directed frown, which Dorian was coming to associate with Klaus's uncomfortable with English. He started again. "It is like when there are too many alpha wolves. It makes visiting our relatives *uncomfortable*. But family is family, and it is simpler if everyone just meets up together."

"One big battle rather than a lot of little skirmishes?" Dorian suggested.

Klaus smiled, a genuine and slightly twisted grin. "Better a big battle than a guerrilla war."

"So what do I have to look forward to? Lots of smiling faces and hidden knives?"

"Yes, except Tante Margot will not be hiding her knives."

"Was that a joke?" Dorian asked, surprised. Instead of answering, Klaus put down the pen and got up.

"Be ready for a run tomorrow at quarter past six. Good night."