She doesn’t scream. She bites down on the inside of her cheek hard enough to draw blood. Thirty seconds feels like a lifetime. It isn’t until the pain ceases that she allows herself a brief yelp in response. But the proof is there: a faded scar, a bloody handkerchief, and a badly-deformed slug from a 9mm handgun. She stares, blinking.
Looks up at his face.
Then she laughs low in her throat. “That’s one hell of a trick.”
The bells peal. Fifteen minutes past the hour. She cocks her towards the sound as it echoes through the darkened streets. As soon as it fades, she turns back to Van Helsing with a grace expression on her face.
“Listen, Dracula’s not the only one with boots on the ground. I do t know if you knew that, but we’re talking pros. Lamplighters.”
no subject
She doesn’t scream. She bites down on the inside of her cheek hard enough to draw blood. Thirty seconds feels like a lifetime. It isn’t until the pain ceases that she allows herself a brief yelp in response. But the proof is there: a faded scar, a bloody handkerchief, and a badly-deformed slug from a 9mm handgun. She stares, blinking.
Looks up at his face.
Then she laughs low in her throat. “That’s one hell of a trick.”
The bells peal. Fifteen minutes past the hour. She cocks her towards the sound as it echoes through the darkened streets. As soon as it fades, she turns back to Van Helsing with a grace expression on her face.
“Listen, Dracula’s not the only one with boots on the ground. I do t know if you knew that, but we’re talking pros. Lamplighters.”
British.