Asylum.
Most nights, it's a freak show. Half costume party, half fetish scene, you can find anything you're looking for -- except vanilla AKA boring. Tonight, it's closed to the general public.
Private party.
Having an exclusive party is always good for business, but the accounting for tonight has little to do with cover charges and bar tabs. Asa had learned the first year that he was Prince why Freddrick had put the onus of throwing Courts on everyone else. Monsters need to be fed... and they were all monsters. Sometimes it's Blood, and sometimes... it's Blood.
He was also curious to see what effect the very public announcement had. How many had let their Requiems be pulled into the orbit of this evening's entertainment?
Security is attentive at the door, with a list of names. For those not on the list, their entry will be barred. For those that are... welcome.
The usually bustling club is empty, but all of it accouterments are on full display. Suspension gear, oddly shaped furniture, rings set in walls to affix chains to, and more than one Saint Andrew's cross. All of that is peripheral, though, to the set piece erected for the evening.
Inside the cage, on the pristine white leather couch, sits the Prince of the Domain, dressed neatly in a tailored black suit.