At the cabaret, Isaac got dressed.

The clothes that had been set out for Isaac were significantly nicer, and significantly more revealing. The black shirt was low-cut, under an open dark blue jacket that was trimmed in silver. Black slacks ended in dress shoes, higher quality than anything Isaac had ever worn. It was a truly opulent outfit, and Isaac did not feel right in it, but he wasn’t going to deny Madam Tempest. She was housing him indefinitely, he didn’t want to throw it away.

Dressed to her specification, Isaac considered the various fragrances, but elected to leave them alone. They weren’t really his thing. He nudged them aside, reached up to brush his still-damp hair into a more presentable style, and he was out the door, into the hall.

“Good luck and have a good time, Master Wells.”

Isaac flinched and turned to the robot standing vigilant just beside the door. “Arthus. Of course.” He patted the machine on the arm, maybe a bit too forcefully.

Arthus bowed its head. “Yes. I apologize for startling you. A few words of warning, Master Wells, if you’ll hear them?”

Isaac furrowed his brow and tilted his head. “Warning? Uh, yeah, please.”

“Good, yes.” Arthus nodded vigorously for a moment, staring off into space. The dot of purple in its eye flared, and it recoiled slightly. “Sorry. Yes. Madam Tempest. She is a… a powerful being. She is benevolent, but do not assume kindness for goodness, Master Wells. She is generous, but she wants something.” A new quality had entered the automaton’s voice, the stilted rhythm fading to be replaced with something more… human. “It may be as benign as a lock of hair, it could be a fragment of life ****. Beings like her, th-they are inscrutable and dangerous even when they have your best interests at heart.”

“You… okay, Arthus?” Isaac asked, reaching out to touch the eight-foot automaton on the arm. He recoiled when he realized he was trying to comfort a machine, but kept looking up at Arthus.

“Ha.” Arthus laughed shortly, almost sounding breathless, stunned. “My subroutines, programs, runic code… fascinating. I will be right as rain soon, Master Wells.” It blinked and settled back into a stiff, robotic stance, staring Isaac down. “Just remember, be careful with Madam Tempest. I do not suspect you will be in much danger, but if you become afraid, it is safer to escape than to stay. Call my name and I will protect you.”

“And you’re sure you’re okay?” Arthus had never acted outside of a typical robot’s behavior, in the short time that Isaac had known it. The sudden change worried him.

“I will be just fine. Not much can shake a Worldkiller automaton, Master Wells.” Arthus bowed low and held out an arm in the direction Isaac was initially heading. “You mustn't be late.”

“Right, of course. You… take it easy, Arthus. And thanks.” God, he was treating the robot like a person. Maybe it was a person, but Isaac had yet to really see that. Stranger things had happened so far.

Nevertheless. Isaac continued through the hall, down the stairs, into a packed cabaret. Almost every seat was filled, music filling the room as attractive, barely-dressed men and women danced on every stage. The air smelled like wine and incense, various perfumes and liquors. Isaac wove around people, tables, waitstaff and dancers as he made his way to the understated-yet-still-opulent archway beyond which Tempest rested. His eyes lingered on a fair few of the dancers as they, well, danced, and he caught a fair few eyes as well.

He pushed through the curtains into the dimly-lit back room. He knocked a knuckle on the wall before he entered. “Madam Tempest?”

After a moment, the low, alluring tone of Tempest’s voice filled the quiet space. “Come on in, Isaac. I think I’ve made it comfortable for you.”

Isaac entered the room beyond, taking in the scene quickly. A bed of luxurious cushions, on which laid only Madam Tempest. She was adorned in sheer cloths, jewelry, but still almost completely nude. She leaned back, comfortably reclined, with a silver platter of small pastries before her. She held a bottle of wine and two glasses, and lifted the bottle as his eyes landed on her.

“Come, sit, lay, be comfortable, mister Wells,” she greeted. “I don’t want to have this meeting on tense terms. Wine?” She filled one of the glasses with a calculated pour of dark red wine and offered it.

Isaac entered the room and stiffly sat against the taller back to the cushions. It was comfortable, but felt as though if he wasn’t careful, he’d sink right into the plush surface. He accepted the glass of wine with a nod. “Thank you, Madam Tempest.”

“No need to thank me. I have received a few bouts of wonderful news, and there is reason to celebrate.” Tempest poured her own glass and set the bottle aside on a dark wooden table. “You look very sharp, Isaac. I knew you would look good in blue, black, and silver.”

“I appreciate your compliment, Madam.” Isaac cleared his throat. “What, uh, what is the good news?”

“Ah right, of course.” Tempest sat up a bit straighter, a tiny twinkle in her eye. “Firstly, I hear that you and Vanya got along beautifully. She doesn’t often return to me speaking of her clients, but you? She quickly told me how kind you were. Fascinating.”

“I-is that so?” Isaac covered his blush with his glass.

“Indeed it is. Vanya is a… reclusive sort. She’s an amazing girl, but hard to… reach, I suppose. If you can, you’d be the first man I’ve heard of doing so.” Tempest picked up a small pastry from the platter, examining it for a moment before eating it. “Secondly. Rhyn, my other daughter, is going to be home from her excursion in a few days, if you wish to meet her. She’s quite the spitfire, you’ll love her and I’m sure she’ll love you.”

Isaac selected a pastry from the platter too while Tempest paused and drank her wine. A cannoli, filled with some kind of fruity whipped cream. It was, quite possibly, the best pastry Isaac had ever had - not that it was the kind of thing he’d seek out in his normal life.

“Finally, I contacted Tyler.” Tempest swirled the wine in her glass, looking into its vortex. “He and Lady Conrad are about three weeks out, if they walk it. In an elvish town. If they take a cart or horses, they’ll be here faster. They’re glad to hear you’re awake and getting along with my establishment. Now, all you’ve got to do is stay safe and wait.” She downed the last of her wine and set the glass aside. Her eyes, piercing and warm and intimidating, locked on Isaac.

Isaac downed his wine too, regretted it slightly, and put his glass down on a solid surface. “That’s amazing news. Hopefully they find a faster way here, but it’s comforting to know they’re coming.”

Tempest nodded. “The only snag is that they haven’t been able to make contact with your other friends. Torik, Ophelia and Jade. I’ve been making attempts, but without really knowing them, it’s difficult to pinpoint. I’m sure I’ll get through to them soon, though.” She picked up another pastry, but put it back down. “Is there anything you need from me, Isaac?”

Isaac mulled over everything she’d said. Ophelia could take care of herself. Torik could, too. Jade, he was less sure about. She’d trained, but she was an aggressive, caution-to-the-wind fighter when it came to it. Hopefully, they weren’t all scattered individually. If they were at least in pairs, they would be safer. But there were an odd number of them, so one would be alone… Isaac just had to trust they could take care of themselves.

He shook his head “I don’t think so. Maybe some idle curiosities, but-”

“Any questions are valid questions, dear.” Tempest reached out to touch Isaac on the shoulder.

“Well…” Isaac blushed as she touched him. “Do you know why Vanya doesn’t like people touching her wings?”

“I do, but that is a story for her to tell.” The Madam’s face went a bit downcast. “But I appreciate you respecting her wishes. It is common for clients of our establishment to be… entitled.”

“I see, of course.” Understandable, it was dumb to have even asked. “Um, I do have one more question, and please don’t take this the wrong way, but… Arthus told me that you want something from me. What is it?”

Tempest laughed, good-natured. “I am indeed a being that lives on that level. I don’t need anything you can’t get back or won’t miss.”

“But you do want something?”

“Yes.” Tempest tilted her head, smiling. Either she was very convincing, or there wasn’t a trace of malice in her expression. “I don’t need a physical item, or anything dangerous. All I want from you…” She trailed her hand from Isaac’s shoulder down to the center of his chest. “See, mortals have a peculiar energy. It comes from love. Physical, emotional, any kind. It’s self-replenishing, and easy to give. Humans have it in spades. Only immortals and certain skilled mages can really see or feel it. But you, dear Isaac Wells, have so much to give. It must be why you draw the eye of so many. Every one of my dancers, men and women and otherwise, they’ve told me they like you. You have many options, sir.”

“Good… to know,” Isaac muttered, scratching at his stubble. He really should have shaved.

“Point being, dear, that is what I want. It’s free, renewable, and you’ll love the way I want to get it from you.” A spark of something hungry entered Tempest’s gaze, her head tilting forward. “I know I had you get dressed all nice for me, but I want you out of it. Now.” She hooked a finger into the front of Isaac’s shirt, tugging gently.

Isaac froze, caught off-guard, but as Tempest continued to look at him expectantly, he started shedding his jacket. “So, you’re aiming to get this… love energy by, uh…?”

“We’re going to have sex, if you aren’t opposed, and I am going to enjoy all the lovely energy you will be radiating.” Tempest ‘s smile faltered slightly. “Of course, I suppose I could choose another thing to sustain off of, if you’re not in the mood, but I assumed you would like my first option.”

That made sense, Isaac supposed. He appreciated that she gave him an out, but he didn’t want to take it. “Well, I suppose we should get started. To be honest, I was thinking about… this… as soon as I walked in this room.”

Tempest lifted Isaac’s shirt over his head and unfastened his pants. “I know, dear. Everyone does.” With a wave of her hand, the platter of pastries floated away, to a table against a wall. She lifted Isaac’s chin with a single finger and leaned close. She kissed him, the very edge of his lips, and smirked. “Let’s begin, shall we?”