Oolong's vast and toothy smile grows more so at Horst's demure foot-wiping. He waits until the vampire is situated, then up, up, up they go, smooth as can be towards yonder tower.

"I do not believe so," the dragon's voice rumbles thoughtfully. "My current concerns are primarily the acquisition of meat, but it is infinitely more satisfying to hunt deer or goats or cattle for one's self than to have meat brought unto one. Unless you happen to know the methods of Hunan-style preparation of pork, which, frankly, I doubt, meaning no offence. Still, it is quite thoughtful of you to ask."

The tower moves closer (or, technically, Oolong and his hand do).

"Charming architecture," the dragon confides in a basso profundo murmur. "The trellis-with-ivy betrays a touch of the romantic. Well, here we are, I suppose."

The hand comes to a stop next to the aforementioned trellis, climbing conveniently by the open window.