**Alistair Blackmoore**

“But certainly not as *fun* as the Englishmen,” Alistair said, the words dredging up memories of Jacobites and the Union as he moved to follow Adrian. He gazed around the room of unconscious humans with a pensive frown. “I'll call in a few friends to erase their memories.”

He grinned wolfishly at Trixy. “One day, we'll get you in a blood-red, poofy Victorian dress. I'm sure that'll accent your eyes too.”

**Morven Blackmoore**

“It's none of our business, Ches – or, well, yours'. I just don't like you being so close to it all.” Morven said, standing on her tiptoes to tuck the strand of hair back behind the taller – older – vampire's ear. Still untidy, but ever so slightly better, enough for her to nod to herself. “My grandson's probably dealing with it right this second.”

She linked arms with Ches to keep them moving. It was certainly unsafe for the two to just stand still, a pair of freaks, in the middle of the sidewalk. “When was the last time you had a bath? Your hair can be both... tickly *and* filled with dread from not washing.”