The Gardens were a lovely spot to retire to during the day when he was feeling too restless to sleep. He wandered quietly through the dim grottos, his manner mild and friendly in spite of his still-looming presence.

He didn't quite understand the whole "club" scene. The dancing seemed simple but a bit silly, the music was repetitive and odd, and he couldn't drink any of the drinks...could he? Still, he was a typical heterosexual guy and greatly enjoyed watching young ladies dance around in club wear. He was just settling in when someone informed him that there was a two drink minimum. When he asked, ironically, for blood, the waiter shrugged and brought him back two tall tankards of something delicious (and alcoholic) smelling.

Dracula blinked down into his first experience with Klingon Bloodwine, then shrugged and took a tentative swallow.

[Vlad sees her across the floor and smiles when she calls him over. Instead of bothering pushing through the crowd, he floats up over it, getting a few gasps and several drunken cheers out of the party crowd. Rumors got around that he was giving flight rides on the beach earlier, so it doesn't shock much of anyone. He glides over with a smile.]

Miss Zev. You're ravishing as usual. You seem to be having a good time as well! Good, good.

He was in a really, really good mood when it came near time to pack up and go home. He got his clothes and gifts together and started cheerfully flying back to the spaceport, taking the scenic route because he had some time. It was only because of this that he noticed activity on a bridge beneath him.

A man was carrying a bundle out to the center of the bridge. The bundle was small-child-sized and squirmed. Dracula paused, hovering in midair, his eyes widening as he saw the man lift up the bundle and then throw it over the side.

He flew for all he was worth, diving down toward the falling bundle, determined to get to it before the (child?) hit the water. The man was already hurrying away. He cut the dive so close that his legs splashed into the water, but he grabbed the bundle, which was incriminatingly wiggly and warm.

"Futu-ti mortii mati!" he roared after the retreating figure as he hurriedly settled onto the bridge and started opening the tied-shut mouth of the sack.

Then he just...blinked...at what was inside.

They were still scared, so sticking close to him--which meant they were clambering onto and into his coat looking for nestling places. There were two who looked like fluffy puddles of ink with eyes; three in varying shades of silver-grey and gunmetal; two whose silver-tipped white fur almost glowed, and one fuzzy little fireball who had apparently climbed onto his shoulder, pulled out his ponytail holder with her teeth and was now playing with it at his feet.

Dracula glanced up--and shrugged, smiling good-naturedly. "What can a man do? You'll never believe the story behind this, though."

The red one and one of the black ones got up and trotted over to investigate Willow.