The full body picture is actually irrelevant to this character. I just happened to spy a vampire romance novel at the book store today and the cover character was dressed like that (minus the spats. Olleander is just a sticler for fancy shoes. Any of you know Inspector Poirot? He’s like that about his showes). So I was designing this very rotund rum-runner vampire and shoved him into the outfit for kicks. >:3c

So the buck tells me he’s out to find some panther sweat and, me being the swell cat I am, I offer to take him to my establishment. So we hop in the flivver and get a wiggle on down to the gin mill, where we’ve just got in a shipment of grade-A giggle water. He downs a couple swigs and after a few minutes that rube is already so spifflicated that he mistakes me for some doll. Yeah that moonstruck sap was real keen on me, tellin’ me how I’ve got gams all the way to the moon and how I was the finest sheba he ever laid eyes on. So I say “hey, I ain’t no vamp, I’m the owner of this here joint”. But he was so ossified he didn’t care. In the end I just sent a couple of my hoods in the jalopy to drop him off at home. I swear, some shieks can’t handle a drop of actual hooch without gettin’ more balled up than a damn bearcat.

(Have I ever mentioned how much I love silly Prohibition Era slang? Because I do. A lot. Try and figure out what the hell Olly is talking about here. :V)