SCENE: LUCARD'S DINING ROOM. SEVERAL ZOMBIES STAND AROUND CHRIS AND SOPHIE, WHO ARE SEATED AND SCARED FOR THEIR LIVES, BUT ALSO CURIOUS AS TO WHY THEY'RE STILL ALIVE.

Sophie: You won't get away with it, you know.

Chris: Yeah, when we don't come home, Uncle Gustav will know right where to look.

Lucard: My dear Sophie, of course I will! And Christopher, I know very well that you slipped out of your rooms tonight. You often slip out before Gustav Helsing comes down to breakfast and stay out past dinnertime. He won't notice anything unusual in you not being around. You should have told him what you were doing. You should give more care to your care giver.

SOPHIE AND CHRIS LOOK AT EACH OTHER IN HORROR, WISHING THAT THEY HAD TAKEN MORE SECURITY PRECAUTIONS.

Sophie: What are you going to do with us?

Lucard: Do? My dear Sophie, I will do nothing. We will simply make pleasant conversation. Did you expect me to throw you into my rat-infested dungeons? (sighs) You have no idea how difficult it is to keep them stocked with rats with so many animals of prey around.

Chris: So you're going to throw us into cockroach-infested dungeons?

Lucard: The rats eat the cockroaches. Such is life. I will not throw you anywhere, but I will have you escorted to an elegantly appointed suite with all the modern amenities. The computers have not even come on the market, and have enough games to amuse even an American teenager. _All_ CDS will obviously not fit, even in a home as grand as mine, but there is a selection that should suit both of you. Anything you could desire. (beat) All the amenities, that is, except a phone line. Now, what shall we discuss?

Chris: How about letting us go?

Lucard: Don't try my patience.

Sophie: What do you want?

Lucard: A pleasant conversation.

Sophie: No, why did you bring us here?

Lucard: (scoffs) That is hardly relevant.

Chris: It is to us!

Lucard: (a deadly look in his eyes) But not to me.

CHRIS AND SOPHIE EXCHANGE GLANCES, THEN LOOK AROUND AT THE ZOMBIES AS IF SEEKING A BREAK IN THE DEFENSES.

Lucard: Let us consider music. (He gestures toward a speaker system, and Carl Orff begins playing.)

Sophie: Carmina Burana.

Lucard: Excellent.

CHRIS GIVES SOPHIE A 'LOOK,' BUT SHE SHRUGS AS IF TO SAY, WHAT ELSE SHOULD WE DO? THERE'S NO POINT IN AGGRAVATING HIM, OR WE MIGHT WIND UP DEAD. PLAY ALONG. CHRIS CAN'T INTERPRET THIS ENTIRE MESSAGE, AND SORT OF SULKS. HE KEEPS LOOKING AROUND.

Lucard: Orff wrote this from text found in the margins of religious writings, put there by monks with impious thoughts.

Sophie: This has nothing to do with why we're here. If you told us, we'd be able to cooperate more.

Lucard: Or make more trouble, if you were so inclined. Come, Miss Metternich, I am not such a fool.

Sophie: But you would like us to do something . . . or at least be more companionable (she persists). Can't we make a deal?

Lucard: I've made quite enough deals for now. (He snaps his fingers, and the music changes to Beethoven.) Attend to the music, Christopher!

Chris: We've got to get out of here.

Lucard: (with a predatory smile) You'll do no such thing.

Chris: Look, if we can get in, then we can get out.

Lucard: You're welcome to try, but meanwhile, I shall not permit you to ruin my mood. (To a zombie) Take him to his room. You can even give him some lock picks and a hunting knife. Let him try to escape.

SOPHIE AND CHRIS TURN WHITE, AND FOUR ZOMBIES CARRY A STRUGGLING CHRIS OFF. SIX REMAIN. LUCARD RISES AND CIRCLES THE TABLE TO STAND VERY CLOSE TO SOPHIE WITH A FORBIDDING EXPRESSION. SHE SHRINKS AWAY FROM HIM. SUDDENLY, HE SMILES AND OFFERS HIS ARM.

Lucard: Shall we see my art collection?

~

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