It's a nice room. Uncomplicated and smells a bit dusty, but he can live with that. He enters, keeping his eyes on her until he's well inside. It's then that the bookshelf catches his attention, running a claw along the collection.

But that's not what he's here for, he assumes. She still hasn't told him what she wants, though he can certainly take a good guess. She smells like whiskey and cat. Two scents that go well together, he notes.

Then he turns back and awaits her entrance into the room, his gaze sliding up and down her bosy as she moves.