This you?

Ideally, no. Otherwise it would be too easy to get a random person drunk and have them invite you into wherever you want. I can’t remember how many times guests of a domicile have invited vampires in, but I’m sure of having read a few stories involving that scenario. Specifically, that blurs the line of who can invite whom, shifting it away from only residents of the domicile.

Let’s set that aside for a moment except as background for knowing that residence status may not be the only important clarification, and take a closer look at legality. If a vampire owned an apartment but rented it out, can he enter it at will? I know for a fact that I have read many stories that answer with an emphatic no. There have also been a significant number of tales where a vampire has been kept out for a period of time after a resident has died. Thus it would be proper to conclude that it is not merely mental acquiescence to the vague bindings of legality that bars a once-deceased hemophage from entering, but something that has a presence that can grow and ebb over time, like deposits of silt at the delta of a river slowly building land where once was only sea.

If this material, whether some odd, unknown manner of physical nature indiscernable by standard senses or magical accrual of effervescent shed fairy dust, can build to a barrier impenetrable, it must also be able to be immediately transgressed when invitation is offered. No great rituals are shown to be necessary, only words and sometimes mere gestures. This must indicate that the barrier is intrinsically tied to each individual inside the domicile, and not as an individual. One cannot deny that which has been allowed by another, demonstrating that the barrier is formed as an aggregate of each presence, controlled as one whole.

Let us now return to the first premise, wherein a guest may allow violation, but a random entrant cannot. What other object, or concept of mental rendition, has similar properties? What is of many, but is only one, and is built up and tied so intrinsically to consent, but is characterized by a stark contrast of those who are in, and those who are out? Yes… it must be, as so many things unfortunately are, intrinsically tied to religion. As the Jehovah split into the father, son, and holy ghost, but is one, or as Kronos became Zeus, and Poseidon, and the others that number six, but are Olympus, and Brahma became all but all are within still, it is apparent. What do the undead fear but symbols of faith? What would keep them out but faith? Yet not all who have barred entry are religious. Let us consider that next.

If only the religious could deny entry, it would be apparent that only a particular one, or even just the clinging to any would be necessary, but we know it is not. How could it then work? I posit to you that the substance, so important yet invisible, is holy oil. And what oil could be holier than that which every person produces… every person but those who have died, that is? Oil that mixes easily with others, oil that coats us and all that we touch! Your beautiful sebum, my fellow humans, is the glorious bulwark against the dark that goes back further than any religion that could be named! Revel in its beautiful silkiness as you delight in the touch of another with consent! Let it carry you forth in glory and power!

But I must leave you with this warning. There are places where the sebum does not protect. All know of the tales of vampires beguiling by the eyes. Your sebum does not stretch across the film, a danger that was accepted long ago in order to have the advantage of sight. Let not such windows be left unguarded. Wear protection.

Returning to the original question, we can see that the judge would not have been able to mix his sebum with the barrier erected by those inside, which means our paltry pulse taker would be left outside.