Kronos Malvivicus had on a rather lavish pair of goggles and a shimmering silver speedo. 

He was basking in the warm waters of his gigantic heated swimming pool in his London penthouse, a rectangular room on the lower floor fashioned entirely of white marble.  Marble statues of Roman gods were poised all around him and wand-hands stood, dressed in black, watching him stoically from the shadows.  It was into this warm room that Richard Burke, who Kronos knew as Dominick Webb, was escorted after having been side-along apparated into the foyer. 

A bell was rung as his special guest was led to a stop then, and Kronos emerged from the crystalline waters like a stark white Greco-Roman god himself, mounting the marble steps out of the pool very slowly and, in the process, presenting a silver stringed vision Richard Burke probably could have lived without.  Men came to meet him; they removed his diamond-studded goggles, they spelled him dry, they fluffed his hair, they donned him in golden-coloured robes and then retreated to the long white couch sitting alongside the pool to pour the tea.  All this was done with great efficiency and took scarcely a minute.

Kronos advanced now toward his guest, giving a big malefic grin in greeting. 

"Well, well, well!" he said in a loud voice that echoed on the sea of marble.  "If I don't believe my ears, me eyes'll do.  Dominik Webb.  Pure dead brilliant, aye, you'll right tickle me pink!  Join me for some tea, friend, we'll have a blether."

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A visual, in case you want it, haha.
The thread title is from a Current 93 song.

Wealthy people could typically be predicted to flaunt their success upon those less fortunate.  For muggles and wizarding folk alike this typically meant massive amounts of charity giving while never or rarely leaving their lavish estates that dotted the vast space across the countryside and towering over any nearby pasture field.  Wealthy criminals however typically lived a lie of non-existent corporations, secret accounts and on most occasions their wealth was rarely touched by anyone but themselves.  Typically.

Kronos Malvivicus was proving to be far from typical and he wasn't even in the front door yet - in fact he couldn't even see the front door yet.  Initially he'd been met at a rather dull and empty second floor flat in the South End.  Dull in this case meant shoddy paint work, no pictures or furniture, some flimsy thing meant to pass as a curtain and creaky floorboards.  It DID have a sink, and a loo so it wasn't completely useless, or it wouldn't have been if he'd gotten a chance to use either.  Shortly after his arrival he was met by a gentleman who once proper introductions had been made, led him by the hand - quite literally -  to the interior of a most lavish and ostentatious hideaway.  For a hired escort, he was a horrible chaperon, once the apparition was over he didn't hold his hand even once! Probably best that way anyway, especially if he was intent on keeping it.

You can learn alot about a person by their choice in home decor,  Malvivicus was without question a native of his fourteen year former hide.  After all, the only other people who took this much interest in a particular stretch of history were either really old (as in longdead) or have heritage playing a role somewhere.  However there are some things about a person that just should be kept private, and quite frankly the fact that a man twice his age gets his kicks from wearing mentally scarring wardrobe into his water bath was certainly one of those things.  It wasn't interesting, it was frightening and perhaps the most awful part about it was that it was visually distracting.

The added robe was certainly a much needed and welcome addition.

"Well, well, well!  f I don't believe my ears, me eyes'll do.  Dominik Webb.  Pure dead brilliant, aye, you'll right tickle me pink!  Join me for some tea, friend, we'll have a blether"

The elderly belonged in homes.  That was simply how it had to be - starting right here.  His face reflected little emotion beyond a casual glance at their now mutual friend and a smirk of indifference.  He was supposed to be the hen in the fox's den, and the only way he really felt that minute intimidation was that he couldn't rightly leave very easily. Pruned skin.  Arrogant.  Pruned skin. Loud.  Pruned skin.  Sod.  Pruned skin.  Free tea?  This was going to be a long day.

"Am I to surmise that you are the ever so elusive and reputed Malvivicuis then?  Good.  Katsaros made a good carrier pigeon after all.  Tea would be quite lovely although I doubt you sought me out in the hopes I'd bring you a kettle cozy."

Kronos led the way to his pool-side lounge where the white leather couches were sided by a table with two porcelain tea cups and a tea pot housing fragrant, floating jasmine flowers.  There was a tall saucer of warm milk and a dish of rough-cut sugar cubes with a host of little silver spoons.

"Don't flatter yourself, Webb," said Kronos with a chuckle.  "It's hardly applaudable that the long-lived tradition of coming with gift is lost on your generation."  His tone was amiable, like that of a great host, though his words were certainly meant to draw attention to his own superior age.  "How do you take your tea?" he asked pleasantly, his own already drawn by the help.  It looked to be about three quarters warm milk and the rest sugar.  He crossed the way and lowered himself onto the couch with unusual grace (for he'd imbibed the last of the alchemist's clever joint juice for the occasion).  He crossed his legs and looked up to his guest with a quivering grin.  One of the help was awaiting his orders for the tea and would pour and stir most precisely upon request.

"Now I rather doubt you've returned to the United Kingdom for an early retirement," he commented, bringing them back to business.  He paused, the grin still held in place strangely against the penetrating fervor of his beady brown eyes.  "I like to think I'm a good neighbor, Mr. Webb, and as I'm sure you're not here in hopes for employment... I should rather like to think as well that you'll agree to play by some rules.  There is more than enough room for the both of us in this marketplace.  Wouldn't you agree?  No need to ... step on toes?  Quite the opposite in fact, we may find each to the other that we're capable of being, what, shall we say assets?"

He took a quaint sip of his warm milk-sugar, pinky flaring out daintily and his eyes raised Webb-ward over the rim of his cup.

(Well this is rightly long overdue [and horrid], no? )

In truth - you know, that historically supported unimagined fantasy world that society often finds itself ignoring?  Yes yes, that's the one right there.  It can be said time and time again that cordial courtesies had been already dropped by previous generations long before his own - and continued to be done repeatedly over and over.  Of course, since historical texts and any decently contrived tall tale generally consist of much backstabbing and betrayal, it's a wonder where anyone got the idea that courtesy and chivalry were dead really. 

Still the man did offer tea, and while he didn't really wish to impose upon such a clearly bright and astute gentleman...he was not in his own kitchen.  "Hospitality being what it is and all, and since you're offering, a dash of milk, one sugar and a lemon wedge on the side."  Honestly, the lemon wedge was just to lose the questionable help and provide a bit of leverage.  He hadn't brought lackies with him -not that he really had lapdogs, mind - why should the...Other Greek...get the home field advantage entirely to his favor?

Good neighbors didn't exactly deal in the sort of things that they dealt in, much as the girl next door rarely found herself on a corner much past six by her own will.  Still, fresh face or former mayor it was smart to know who was on the other side of the hedgerow.  "Any man can be a neighbor, but I think our commonalities are far more informal than most."  Pause.  He did have to admit, the Kronos the Old was rather spritely given his appearance.  Then again, there old old witches who couldn't remember what they ate for breakfast but could still remember a nasty countercurse.  "Still, I do believe that a dysfunctional arrangement of sorts is more than feasible.  You will understand however that whatever arrangement we may acquire here, is subject to change with the nature of our needs?"