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How she loathed ordering day! She would take payroll duties any day of the week over ordering. There was simply something so menial about ordering supplies, and yet, with Leiren out in mourning she had no choice but to complete the task herself. There was simply no one else who she trusted at this point to take over the responsibility, and who didn't already have a full plate of duties to their name.

A gentle peace settled over her, drowning out the voices asking "How much vodka do we want this week?" "How many new chairs shall we order?" and other such nonsense she had no real interest in pursuing. It was as if a warm blanket surrounded her, quieting the voices of those around her and calling her focus inwards. Lips curled upwards in a smile, as she rose from the conference table and turned to face him.

His name the only word upon her lips "Sammael..."

Whether the meeting was meant to be over or not, it did not matter to her. She needed a break, and her savior of the hour had come to her rescue, whether he knew it or not. One by one, each vendor took their leave, slipping out the back door to avoid what was clearly a private moment.

"I've missed you, love."

His face ever a blank canvas of expression, he moved in to her and wrapped his arms around her in comforting embrace. He'd been away from her too much as of late and she was always working so hard to cater to the clientelle and what needed to be done. He supposed it was her Allurist nature and the overwhelming need to please. It was always the strangest of feelings for him. He never felt that he needed anything from anyone, and often sought the solace of solitude, alone amidst the shadows. When he was without her, however, he felt incomplete. There was always this phantom pull upon him that desired to be back near her. Just to see her one more time. Just another whiff of her intoxicating aroma. Just a touch of her alabaster skin.

Sammael had been torn for a time between his sense of duty, the Masquerade agenda, and between being there for Amaranthia. The deeper the shadows took him in to their ebon arms, the more the pull away from society he felt. The one thing that never changed though, was his unwavering desire to be with her. So, in light of it all, he'd faced the beast of burden and made a decision. He knew where he needed to be ever since the beginning.

Looking to her, he placed a single kiss on her forehead and smiled, "You'll work yourself to the grave, love."

"If the Shadow Realm couldn't keep me in the grave, what makes you think keeping myself busy could?" She smirked a little, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. The gentle strength of his embrace calmed her, reassured her, whispered that everything would work out for the best. When he was away an emptiness held her captive. Her heart was simply not there, it couldn't be. He held it within his own. The pieces that made up the mosaic of her heart one by one melted, molding into something new, something...whole again.

She had never dared to desire it, not after Mircea nailing the final nail in the coffin of their relationship. Despite her occupational history, she had a deep and profound respect for the ritual of an eternal bond. She would not do anything to harm something so sacred and precious. Instead, Amaranthia had simply given up that part of herself. Letting the pieces shatter further upon the iced walls around her heart. Somehow though, Sammael had burned his way through all that, he was quite precisely what the song from the commercial she had overheard claimed "the fire of my desire". Though what a woman's razor for cutting undesired hair had to do with desire she could not quite fathom.

"What weighs upon your mind, mon amour?" Words slipped from her lips, a soft caress of devotion as fingers brushed over his form, wondering just what it was that drew such an isolated being to a social butterfly like herself.