How did a vampire of your power allow a mere human to bloody you? Jean-Claude's voice was easy, conversational, but in my head, his voice whispered something else, I fear I have underestimated him. Panic fluttered in my chest, and I knew that panic would be a bad emotion to take behind that melting door. His hand swept back his wrinkled trench coat and suit jacket, to touch the butt of his gun on his hip. I don't think you'll ever teach him to put things back, I said.
If we pull the blade out, I may be able to save him. Because once you're pinned under someone like that, your options vanish. No one at work at nearly two in the morning, fucking slackers. Did I really care what Arnet thought of me? No.
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