Two of a Kind

He had alluded to cooking in their last meeting, but to see him answer the door in something as domestic as an apron was strange to say the least. Her pebble-blue eyes glinted in the light of the snow more than the moon, though the torches within painted her in a ruddy glow. "Sounds lonely," she remarked, reaching up to carefully unwind the scarf from around her face, regarding the ex-captain coolly. She had come for information, to share their experience of this... condition of theirs. But as she watched him there, smirking, languid in the beating heart of his demesne... she felt angry. The pierce of fangs against her neck, taking what was never offered - that beggared belief, it seethed for retaliation. The decision was made in a moment of recklessness utterly unbecoming of the logical doctor, and Isla rolled her shoulders in a coy shrug. "You know exactly how," she murmured to him, brazenly stepping forward to close the distance between them. She unbuttoned her coat to expose her neck, leaning up on her toes, hands pressed to his chest, tilting her head as if to invite him in. But the moment he was close enough, Isla struck, her hands clenching against his shirt so she could plunge her fangs into him. ISLA Hush now, I'm here