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Due to the short notice, or the fact that Rhett had learned of the charity auction just a couple nights ago, Rhett would only be able to wear part of the three piece suit he purchased. Not being a bit suit guy, and only owning one at the moment; the one he wore when he and Dhara eloped (which wasn't an option in his mind to wear), Rhett bought a suit off the rack. The dimensions for the arms were all wrong, being he was a tall guy, with a very toned physique, and apparently slightly longer arms than whoever designed the suits for someone of his size and stature. So, Rhett wore the pants, and the vest, with a white button down. The button down shirt was rolled at the sleeves (because yet again, they were a little short) to hide the fact that he didn't go to a big designer company and just bought something off the rack at any generic merchandise store.

Each ticket was two hundred dollars, but if you came with a 'date' then you could get two tickets for three hundred and fifty dollars. Dhara now worked three jobs, and continued busking as well, so he didn't want to ask her the night before to come to something that might or might not pan out for him. The auction was for underprivileged kids in the city-which struck a chord with Rhett. When one of the teens in his business mentioned it, Rhett couldn't help but want to find out more about the event and get a ticket.

As Rhett finished buttoning the vest he couldn't help but feel a tinge of guilt for not inviting his wife. But the truth was, their last 'date' had been a little awkward. It had started out well enough, but then something changed and Rhett couldn't shake what that might be. He suspected it had to do with what he wrote in his journal, but she had written a lot of things that still floored him. Why hadn't she paged him, or texted him or even called him? Did she not respect him enough to tell him her thoughts to his face? It was still a thought Rhett couldn't shake. Along with the distance and the way she was so closed off to him. Perhaps a night away from him would do her some good. They couldn't very well do everything together, right? It wasn't healthy to be conjoined at the hips all the time. And maybe a night away would do them some bad, but only time would tell. Rhett wanted Dhara to be happy more than anything and lately, he hadn't seen the spark in her that he once had seen in the beginning. These things happened he supposed. Dhara was his first real commitment and Rhett supposed that most people couldn't stay with the first woman they had fallen in love with. It was a naive concept.

Rhett smoothed out the vest he wore, knelt down and tied his black dress shoes before he moved to the front door of the apartment. He took one last look around, swiped his entry reservation from off a table, adjusted his tie and headed out to the train station. Normally, Rhett would walk, but time was of the essence and he didn't want to be late. As it was, he was already cutting it close. Instead, Rhett caught the train not too far from the shared apartment he and Dhara had, and caught it to Bullwood. The museum not too far from the train station, and apparently had been transformed for the night's events. He climbed the stairs, noticing almost every male was wearing a complete suit, but as there had been no real dress code, Rhett would fight it, if need be. However, there was no reason to, as his reservation was scanned and he was allowed to pass into the museum where there was a coat check if needed, bathrooms and tables lined with various opportunities for kids of all ages and social classes could take part in. He grabbed a glass of wine as a waiter passed him, gave him a nod of appreciation and made his way deeper inside the museum.

It had been between the auction and a benefit. Marisol had barely remembered discussing it with Logan in previous months and as she date rolled around, she was surprised to learn he had chosen the auction. Knowing her former master had been a serial killer… well, it was easy to say that doing something that would aid children, under privileged children at that, was not expected. And now as Sanders Modeling Inc. had fallen properly into her lap as her own agency, Marisol had found herself with two tickets, a boring date and a fully planned evening.

Logan hadn’t like grand events, and as usual, he had encouraged one of the newer men within their company to escort her around. His name was forgotten and bland, her attention to detail telling her that he expected more than just her company at the end of the evening. And with the constant itch at the back of her throat that accompanied her turning, Marisol had been contemplating between whether or not Jared or Jack, was it Jack? Or was it Jerry? What the hell is his name? would become her next meal for the evening. It took her only forty-five minutes and half an order of a salmon dinner to decide she was going to ditch him the moment they got to the auction.

“I’m going to go powder my nose. Don't wait for me.” The words left her nude lips after their coats were checked, Marisol’s hands sliding over the slip dress to check for any unfavorable changes in it. Finding nothing, she didn’t wait for an answer from the male before she made her way for the restroom. It was only after she was out of sight that she redirected her path towards the auction itself. Now that her ‘date’ had been successfully ditched, Marisol couldn’t stop herself from removing her compact from her purse to check her makeup carefully. Ignoring the corpse face in the mirror, the woman tapped slightly at the foundation over her nose, added a bit more, and then slipped it back inside.

Not one for lying, not that she found herself able to after her turning, Marisol felt a bit better. A man passed with a tray of drinks and she collected a champagne flute before beginning to walk around. Charity events had always been something that she liked, especially ones that helped out other people. After her mother had told her that she was ‘too pretty to be a nurse’, she did what she could to help out. Each step brought her further inside, the itch at her throat considerably adding to a night that started out bad, but she hoped would get better. Sipping at her champagne, Marisol stopped at a hand sculpted piece being sold so a young man whose home had been destroyed during the earthquake that shook the town could go to college.

Leaning forward so that she could read the little bit of information on the sculpture more, she removed a pen from her pocket and wrote down her bid. Afterwards, she stepped back to admire the piece some more, thinking of where she could place it in the office. At the same time, she didn’t notice the man with the wine. “Excuse me.” Her hand went to his arm automatically, trying to steady herself quickly. A frown played across her lips, “Haven't been here five minutes and I likely look like a lush.”

Rhett had been looking at a statue, not that he was much of an art sort of guy. Rhett didn't actually understand art or the idea of art meant something different to anyone and everyone. Why? If someone made something, shouldn't it be seen the way the artist designed it to be? But still, he was here to try and support the teens as best as he could, within reason. And so far, the statue was the only thing that had his attention. Maybe he could put it in Retrokade near the front door. Putting anything on the wall in his and Dhara's apartment wasn't something he was interested in, and impossible to do in Retrokade.

Rhett put a number down on a piece of paper, and passed it on, just before a woman next to him did the same thing after him. Maybe she bid lower than he did. Or maybe she bid higher. Was she in it for the long run? Only one way to find out. Rhett was about to grab another piece of paper and place a second bid, but she stepped on his foot, resulting in Rhett jerking to the side. Some of the champagne in his glass sloshed to the top and over it, and on to his black dress shoes. The dark haired woman grabbed him and apologized and then made an excuse for herself.

He grinned at her words, and then shook his head. "Not a lush." He chuckled as he inched closer to her, just so that she only heard his words. "And even if you are, I think we can all forgive you. I don't think anyone can make it through these things without a drink or five." He then moved so he was no longer standing to the side of her, but in front of her. "I'm Rhett." He offered, the glass he had in the other hand being given to a waiter that walked by with an empty tray. His eyes remained on the woman, trying to determine if she was in fact tipsy, or if this was some sort of con. Pretty women didn't step on his foot every day. And coming from the streets, Rhett knew a thing or two about cons; having been part of one, or seeing one in action.

The modeling agency didn’t have many designs on the walls or even in the lobby. Truthfully, most of the art pieces that Logan had put up, Marisol had taken down and replaced with tasteful shoots of models they represented, places they had traveled to... the sculpture itself would be different but also a way to incorporate that they would always cater to any one. That the business would support everyone. Beside her, she heard the scribble of a pen and she glanced around. Auctions never failed to surprise her. Alcohol and money would never mix properly, but at least if things got too high, children would certainly benefit. "That’s true. However, given the fact that was my first glass of the night I can't really speak for my moment."

She gestured in the direction of his shoes. His proximity didn’t startle her, but Marisol remained still as he moved about. The brunette inclined her head towards the piece she had been bidding on, noticing he had taken interest in it as well. "Do you come to these auctions often? This kid is pretty talented. My former boss previously purchased another one of these, it looks like a moose." The name on the paper matched one in Logan’s old office. She supposed she can find it later, if he really wanted this piece. But. Marisol reached over to collect another piece of papet, wrote a higher number than she previously had and set it aside for later.

"Marisol." She responded, handing off her flute as well before she held out her hand. "Friends call me Sol, or at least my employees do." She supposed that sounded bad. Logan had usually referred to her as crazy ***** and the thought itself caused her first to feel annoyed, followed by a flash of pain. Although the wound in her stomach had healed, the gunshot no longer a hassle, Marisol could still feel the phantom wound from the night she had watched her former master die in front of her. Taking in a better look at the man she had run into, the woman frowned. "You... look vaguely familiar." His name was familiar, too, but she couldn’t remember where she had heard it - television, maybe?

Rhett waited until 'Sol' was done talking before he chuckled and grinned a little bit bigger. "Well, our secret." He said with a nod as her hand was offered. He gave it a tight, but gentle shake as he thought about her name. Or more specifically, her nickname. Wasn't 'sol,' Spanish for the stars or sun? Rhett had taken a few years of Spanish in high school and then some conversational Spanish class in college, but he couldn't remember any of it.

"Is that what it is?" Rhett asked, not trying to insult the artist, but he couldn't quite identify the animal it was supposed to be. "Huh." He said, his gaze returning to the moose as he shook his head. "Nope. It's my first charity auction. I only heard about it a handful of days ago. Thought it would be a good place to meet some like minded people." Rhett further explained before he finally touched the subject of her maybe thinking he looked familiar.

"I'd accuse you of giving me two horrible pick up lines in the span of three minutes, but I don't think anyone comes to these things looking to pick someone up." Rhett grinned at her as he pondered making another bid. If she wanted it, she would bid again and more money would go for the night's event. But, if not, then he was stuck with something Rhett originally thought was a bear. He decided to stay his bid, primarily because it seemed she really wanted it. "If you've seen me anywhere, it would be where I work. Though, I doubt it. It's sort of a day shelter for young adults and teens who are on the streets. Sort of like...a safe haven." He admitted in a low tone as he shrugged. "Otherwise, I don't really go or do anything else." He confessed with an apologetic look, as his eyes fell to another piece-a small water color looking thing. Small enough to hang in his office or right at the door, he figured. "Excuse me Sol, but I see something else of interest that needs some money tossed its way." He moved around her then and headed to the wall art section.

She couldn’t shake that he looked familiar, but where... the woman ignored what bugged her at the back of her mind as she smirked. "I think it can be one we both gladly keep, hm, handsome?" The brunette gave a wink before she looked towards the sculpture. It was... interesting and she mostly went to the auctions because they always brought healthy competition. It was another reason Logan had always pushed her off into going, she was the more patient of the two. At least, she was until it came to him.

"He's good... just keep an open mind with some of them." She shook her head, but stepped aside, "With the right angle you can see it." Marisol motioned slightly to show him. She took a small sip from her glass, listening to Rhett. The drink helped the burn at the back of her throat some, but it was still a nuisance. She needed to remember to buy some more cough drops. It helped, she had found, with the burn at least. Feeding off every unfortunate victim wasn’t going to happen any time the ache got to her.

Marisol only grinned in response. She then chuckled, "I suppose you caught me." One hand lifted, "Though I come here for aiding others less fortunate." The brunette brushed her fingertips through her hair, the woman looking to the event where more people were gathered in front of a painting. As Rhett begun to speak, her gaze returned to the man. She pursed her lips, considering it. "
That is very commendable of you, I bet they appreciate your efforts."

When Rhett walked away, Marisol watched after him. It took her a few moments to remove her phone from her pocket, glancing towards the man and then through her contents. She didn’t think it was possible, but as her thumb hovered over the name 'Rhett' in Logan’s old phone, she wondered. The man did seem familiar, so did she possibly see him in the past with a fleeting glance? She debated for a moment and pressed her thumb down on the call button. At the same moment, Marisol wandered over towards another sculpture while watching the man under her lashes.

The 'handsome' comment didn't go unnoticed, but Rhett made a point to glance down at his left hand while he moved to the new piece of art that had captured his attention for the time being. There it was, just as Rhett knew it to be. His wedding band. Marisol must not have seen it, but it was there. While he and Dhara were deciding on how to progress with their marriage, Rhett had decided that he would still wear his ring until a decision had been made that they were both happy with. In his mind, they were still married, so that meant that even though there was trouble in paradise, he should still be wearing his ring.

His phone suddenly vibrated against his chest and he glanced around, wondering if anyone had heard his phone buzzing to life unexpectedly. With no one staring at him, Rhett pulled out his phone from a pocket within his suit coat and glanced down at the screen. He stilled and then frowned a little. He had expected the number to belong to Dhara, or RetroKade's business number; hell, even Jesse, but to see Logan's name and number appear? Not expected. When was the last time he talked to the guy, or heard a peep from him?

"Hey Logan, what's up?" Rhett answered as soon as he pressed the answer button, turning away from the piece of art work, and people to find a quieter location. "Hello?" Rhett attempted to prompt the guy into conversation once he was by the set of bathrooms in his part of the large museum building. "Hey, Logan. You okay, buddy?" Rhett pulled the phone away from his ear to check to see if the call was still connected, and it was. So what the hell was Logan calling for, and doing?

Rhett glanced around the immediate area he was in, as his free hand came to rest on his neck, before it rubbed at it. What should Rhett do? he didn't know where the guy was, let alone knew where he lived. So, Rhett came to the conclusion that he was going to have to get Jesse involved. "Hey man, I'm going to get in touch with Jesse to check up on you." Rhett said before hanging up and starting to scroll through his phone book, preparing a text to Jesse about the mysterious call. Mainly, to have the guy check up on Logan. It seemed the best course of action since he was both their sires.

There was nothing wrong with complimenting someone in their appearance, was there? Even if the man was married? Marisol didn’t think so. Then again, the woman wasn't particularly against being with a married man. As long as it wasn't something snuck around, really. She had always been an honest person and as a vampire, it seemed, the trait had certainly become worse. Still, his reaction had the woman chuckling before she moved away and began focusing on the next piece until her curiosity got the best of her.

She had half expected it to be the wrong guy. Hoped, really. Had they even been close? Marisol didn’t think so. Logan had really spent most of his time in his gym, hiding from his wife, murdering co-eds or driving the woman nuts. When Rhett had answered the phone, Marisol didn’t know what to say. Instead, she watched his actions, his body structure. Once he was out of view, however, Marisol frowned. She parted her lips, but paused. What could she say? By the way, Logan’s psycho ***** of a wife murdered him. She could only roll her eyes. That would go over well again.

Her heels clicked softly as she begun to make her way in the direction that the man had gone. As she walked, she searched through the rest of the few contacts. Her brown gaze moved over the people in the room, wondering if anyone else was connected to her former master. Once she was in hearing range and the dial tone was heard, Marisol called out softly. "You don’t have to do that." And she lifted the cellphone in her hand, stopping only a few feet from Rhett, "Jesse's already aware of Logan being silent. But it's mostly because I didn’t expect you to answer my call."

She frowned. A small group of people passed by, the brunette setting the phone back away into her bag. Once the group went away, she shifted her weight. "I knew you looked familiar. We've met, or well. I knew of you through Logan, he was my master. I was his thrall."

Rhett had almost been done dialing Jesse's number and hitting enter when a voice called out to someone. Rhett, not sure who the female voice was talking to, glanced in the direction of the voice. He half expected to see some sort of scene; nothing crazy. Maybe a girlfriend of wife telling their significant other they didn't have to pay for whatever they were interested in. Instead, he saw no one but Sol, and she was looking directly at Rhett.

"Do what?" Rhett looked around, more like behind him, expecting to see someone or something behind him. What was he doing that he didn't have to do? A phone was held out and he squinted at it. It didn't look familiar, but Rhett didn't really know what anyone's phone looked like other than his and Dhara's. And even then, it would be a guess at what brand it was and model. As Sol went on to explain things, Rhett slowly put the phone away and just looked at her. He didn't understand what she meant by why Logan was silent. Was the guy out of town? It was just a different way of putting something so simple as,' Logan's busy and will be doing his own thing for now.' Silent seemed...heavy to Rhett.

So now the million dollar question was...Who was Sol to Logan? Why did she have his phone? How did she come about getting his phone? Wouldn't Logan need his phone? "I answer calls, especially from numbers I know. Unless I'm away from my phone or in the middle of something. Phones are pretty important to their owner. Don't you think Logan might need it?" Rhett asked as a sort of suggestion before he took a few steps closer to Sol.

The phone disappeared as a couple of people made their way around and past them while Rhett approached Sol. When she made the claim that she knew him and that they had met, Rhett shook his head a little. No way had they met. Rhett was sure he would remember Sol, not because she was pretty (which she was), but because Rhett met so few people that anyone who spent more than ten minutes with or around the guy got a place in his memory bank. When she was done talking, Rhett just stood there with his jaw slightly agape. He whistled and then looked around. "Oh. So it's like a...you know." Rhett inched closer and dropped his voice for Sol's sake. "You and Logan...role-played? I think that's what it was called?" Rhett didn't know Logan well, but that seemed to be a growing trend. The whole master and servant thing. Whatever floated their boat. Not a ship he was setting sail on, but it was their business. "So, you two were close then? Dated. Or whatever." He left the statement broad and open, because he wasn't sure how people defined those sorts of relationships. "Wait. Was? So you two aren't together anymore? Then-why do you have his phone?" It was a fair thing to ask, since it was his phone, and not hers.

"You don’t have to message Jesse." She clarified, and then finally, brushed some of her long hair away from her face. She damned herself for not bringing an elastic of some sort. She did have a pencil in her purse... but she suspected that her date may have wisened up and was currently searching for her. "It's a long story, but no, he does not need it. Once again, the phone felt heavy within her hold. As much as she had hated Logan, and even planned his death on multiple occasions, she missed him. It would be easier to just buy herself a new phone, or even change her number, but since he had died she was now the owner of his businesses. It was such a hassle getting everything transferred over. Not to mention, it was her damn phone to begin with - there were still pictures of cover shot outtakes from the weekend she had met Logan on it for that matter.

There weren't many people that seemed to know about Logan’s passing in this world. Marisol had noticed it. Apparently the man had been more social in his falsified human life versus the true vampire life. Then again, he had always been private. Marisol had been let in more than others, a fact that she didn’t particularly enjoy. It didn’t help that the ******** had quite literally gotten into her head a few times. "Not where he is." She frowned. The memory of the ashes falling to the ground, the blood from her body staining her hands... "I'm sorry to inform you, but Logan passed away." Murdered was the better word, she thought bitterly, but didn't say it. Not in public. "He thought you were a cool guy." The mention of Logan’s death had her reaching for another drink as a man walked past. He didn’t linger long after she offered him a smile, thanking him. Afterwards, she stepped closer to Rhett and rubbed at the side of her neck as that damned burning sensation returned. It hurt and her lozenges were in her purse, too. At some point, she would have to get over herself and go get the damn thing.

At the question about roleplaying, Marisol stared at him, slightly insulted. She spoke softly, but explained. "No, it's a power. An allurist power. I was essentially his secretary without pay." Slave, truthfully, was a better way to describe it due to the nature of their relationship. He asked her to do something, she tried to resist, and then the charming ******** made her do it anyway. Her eyebrow lifted. Briefly, the memory that she had when first meeting Logan flitted through her head... they had danced, they had a few drinks and they had almost made it to the bedroom before he enthralled her. Shortly after he had bitten her neck, Marisol had knocked his nuts with her knee and the advances were ruined. "Close enough." As he questioned about the phone, she sighed. "It was actually mine before he had me in order of his business affairs and the like. Logan's wife continued to call even after he had me serve his divorce papers so he gave everyone mine to contact him." It was always a damn hassle. She lifted her flute, finishing off the champagne quickly as if it were a shot.