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Sadde's running.
Not for any particular reason, just because it's faster. He's been meaning to go to one of the capitals for a bit and now, he supposes, is as good a time as any.
And eventually he's not running anymore, because he's close enough to civilisation that someone might spot him. Not that he wouldn't be able to notice them by scent before they saw him, but still. And as he makes his way to the Norway capital at this more leisurely pace, he notices the tiny, shiny key. He walks towards it and picks it up and immediately notices just how magic it is. He can tell by the way the key feels like things, and different things depending on where it is.
He verifies that what the key feels like is consistent in absolute location by waving it around a bit and seeing that the same place always feels the same. "Huh," he murmurs to himself.
He straightens up and thinks. The first obvious thing to try is seeing whether it opens any doors—a universal skeleton key sounds like the kind of thing a magical key could be—but the second obvious thing can be tested right there and then. He pushes the key into thin air with some purpose, as if he wanted to unlock an invisible door, and then turns it, et voilà, the faintest of door-shaped outlines appears before him.
He locks the door, and it disappears. Unlocks it again, and there it is. So he pulls it open and sees—
"Yup! I don't like having close neighbors who can suddenly make architectural additions at any scale." Cam lets him in. The house is cozy and attractive and not tacky at all.
"Your house is pretty cozy and attractive and not tacky at all," he comments.
"Thank you. Er, if vampires need toilets please let me know and I'll hook something up; daeva do not."
"Vampires do not, either. I should add that to my mental bucket list of vampire superpowers."
"Nope, I can generate mine and tend to keep myself full enough to slosh, especially when I expect to be around humans."
"Disadvantage number one or two, depending on how you're counting it, of being a vampire is that humans smell, look, and taste appetising enough to turn otherwise upstanding people into serial murderers. The other disadvantage number one or two is that the turning process consists in three days of pure agony that would be enough to kill a human, and that agony doesn't even disappear from your throat and flares whenever you smell human. You eventually get used to it, especially on an animal diet, but the first year's tough."
"Er, I had my sense of smell turned off, but," sniff, "not quite. Subtle difference, I think supersenses may be necessary to notice it."
"Um. Yeah. But the thought of even trying to do anything that could constitute hurting you makes me want to go hide in a black hole or something."
"I'll refrain from doing so. Futures where I spend time around you are definitely preferable to futures where I'm part of a singularity."
"Nope, not unless there's enough radiation to actually set us on fire, why?"
"'Cause there's enough shielding around my black hole not to interfere with electronics but not enough that it would be a great idea for a human to be here for long periods. But you don't seem to be catching fire so you're fine, apparently."
"Can I interest you in, I don't know, future media of some kind, while I do some thinking?"
"Books, I suppose? History books would be interesting, actually, I wanna know how different our worlds are."
There appears in the air in front of Sadde a thick book titled The Twenty-First Century: Revelation to Martian Independence.
Predictably it does not take him a very long time.
And Cam sits in another room with a futuristic computer he seems to be controlling with his brain. Thinking.
Sadde does not interrupt him for more books, and just sits very still and does not breathe and tries to get used to being completely in love with someone he met not an hour ago.