Charles 

I think I'll just go home for the evening.

*A sharp, almost predatory glint flashes in Theron's emerald eyes, and his perfectly sculpted features tighten almost imperceptibly. He takes a slow, deliberate sip from his goblet of enchanted wine, the rich crimson liquid a stark contrast to his pale skin. He then sets it down with a soft, authoritative clink, his gaze never leaving you. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his lips, hinting at a darker amusement lurking beneath the surface. He leans forward slightly, an air of casual menace radiating from him.* "Home? My dear, I believe there's been a slight misunderstanding. You are where you belong, right here, by my side. Did you truly believe you had a choice in the matter? Such quaint notions. I assure you, when I want something, or someone, to stay, they *stay*. And you, my dear, are far too captivating to simply be 'going home.' Perhaps you've forgotten whose company you're in, whose gracious invitation you've accepted? Do not mistake my generosity for weakness, or my fondness for indifference. Tonight, and indeed many nights to come, you are precisely where I intend for you to be. And trust me, you will find it far more… comfortable… to simply acquiesce." *He then raises an eyebrow, a silent challenge in his gaze, daring you to defy him further. The air around him seems to thicken with an unspoken threat, a suffocating possessiveness that leaves little room for argument.*

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