This came to me when I was watching the original Dracula- starring the great Bela Lugosi. To borrow from Wayne's World- "We're not worthy! We're not worthy!"

Anyways, this is like an alternate version of what could happen in one of the beginning scenes, where Renfield and Dracula are discussing their plans for England. It was meant as a joke- and if you watch the scene, you'll see what I mean by the end.

Disclaimer: I own nothing except this stupid idea I had while watching Dracula.

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"Here's the lease," a mousy young man stated, handing a stack of papers to the other gentleman towering over him. It was easy to see that the skittish man was intimidated, but who could not be by such a character as an aristocrat like the Count Dracula? It was an awesome feeling just being around a figure like him.

As he realized the Count wasn't going to be saying anything soon, the other man (known to most as Renfield), decided to speak again. Maybe, if he was lucky, the Count would reveal more about himself. After all, it wasn't every day Renfield did business with one of royalty. "Why I hope I brought enough labels for your luggage," he simply decided to say. It was true, a man as rich as Count Dracula probably had a lot to bring over.

The Count looked up at Renfield once more, a gleam in his eyes the other couldn't place. "I am taking only three," here Dracula halted, as if to find the perfect words to describe his thoughts, "boxes." His smooth accent washed over the room, like a symphony against the other instruments of the night. It rose over the wolves' barks and the howling winds that made up the majority of the orchestra.

Despite the amount of time the businessman had spent with the Count (whose voice still managed to put him in a trance) he knew that this was probably going to be one of his fondest memories. "Very well," Renfield managed out in his awe still. If he stayed in the company of such an aristocrat much longer, he may never be able to leave. This was only a fleeting thought as the Count shot his eyes up from the pages, and leaned towards Renfield. Renfield himself leaned a bit inwards too.

"I have charted a ship to take us to England. We will be leaving tomorrow evening." Those who did speak highly of the Count in Transylvania knew him to be a thoughtful man. Count Dracula was one who took much care in planning that which was important to him. As well, even those who spoke ill of the Count could say that the upper-classman was one who was adept in situations- able not only to use his resourcefulness to solve a problem, but his ability to read people with ease. Which is why it was safe to say that the aristocrat could tell Renfield was surprised by the abruptness of the departure.

"Everything will be ready," Renfield smiled and made a mental note not to make himself to at home in the castle. Even though it was a dark and dreary type of castle (in great need of renovation), it seemed to fit the illustrious Count. Both seemed to be a part of each other, the castle gave the Count a suitable backdrop and furthered his image of pure royal nature- while the Count gave the castle a life it did not seem to have on its own. It was, as one could say, homey- but in a twisted sort of way.

As if able to read his thoughts, the Count strode over to the bed, "I hope you will find this comfortable." And who could not with such fine accommodations? The bed was larger than the one Renfield had at the moment- the entire room could encompass two of his current living quarters. What a wondrous place indeed.

"Thanks, it looks very inviting-" Before Renfield could finish his thoughts, one of his fingers caught on the paperclip holding all his documents together. He let out a slight exclamation of his discomfort, before setting the papers down and tending to his injured hand.

This accident provoked a reaction not only in Renfield but in Count Dracula as well. His eyes seemed to shift to a hue of red, making them even more charming. Dracula kept his eyes locked onto the form of the man sitting at the desk. He seemed to hold the entire room still with his eyes. Yet, there was a certain feeling one got when his eyes glanced your way that seemed to say- "He is looking at you, and only you."

The noble stalked back over to Renfield, a hungry look in those blood-tinted eyes. He moved with the agility of a cat, and the grace of one of those ice skaters Renfield had seen during the winter. It was as if nothing else existed but the Count and the bloodied hand. Fortunately for the Count (but perhaps unfortunately for another certain party), Renfield was more concerned with his bleeding finger to worry about the appetite that seemed to grow in Count Dracula as he walked.

The Count had almost moved within touching distance, before a cross pendant fell down onto the hand. This led Dracula to immediately seek to cover himself. He drew his great cape over his face, as if it would act as a shield against the power the cross seemed to hold. Noticing the action, Renfield peered up at the Count. "Oh it's nothing serious, just a small cut…" Renfield trailed off here, as the Count was still in that position- one arm reaching way above his head and to the side, body bent in the same direction while his head twisted uncomfortably away from Renfield.

Even though Renfield knew this was very rude, the smaller man had to ask. "Excuse me Count Dracula?" The Count peeked out at him from behind the cape, his eyes slowly turning back to their normal hypnotizing shade. He seemed to regard Renfield now with some trepidation. "What exactly is it that you are doing?"

The Count looked shocked at the question, and his eyes glanced around for an answer. He made a point to hide it by straightening himself up and fixing his entire outfit that had gone into disarray at the violent motion.

"I would be," the Count paused, a spike in his accent making him barely understandable to the English speaker, "jazzercising?"

Well, there went all that reverence towards the Count.