[i] “Long lives, got to find ways to please ourselves.”[/i] Tholo responded to the barb with a level of nonchalance that Béatrix could respect. He then quickly found an excuse to make an exit. Good, one less uncomfortable thing to occupy her mind. Trixy did not wear any discomfort on her face; however, she instead sipped her espresso with otherworldly grace. There was just the right amount of crema on the top to counterbalance the bitter flavor of the drink.  It seemed as though Solenne was trying his hand at a little Sherlockian exercise, as he announced. [i]“Say Trixy… it couldn’t be that the pup Bartholomew is the name etched across your wrist… could it?”[/i]

Béatrix supposed she deserved that dig, after outing their affair to his newfound soul mate and all. She calmly set her tiny mug down on the saucer and brought her eyes to Solenne’s. With a unnervingly playful smile, she spoke “Now, Solenne.” She even went as far as to not use his nickname “I do believe Mia stands here as evidence that what may or may [i]not[/i] cover my skin, is no longer any concern of yours.” As good of an actress as she could be, what he’d said really ruffled her feathers, and she no longer wanted to be there. A true good friend wouldn’t joke about something so serious. Solenne knew about her issue with wolves, her fear and hatred of love after losing Francis, and why it was all so personal to her… he was one of the only people she’d opened up to after the death of her true love, and now he joked and pried where he had no right. She would have talked to him about it, in time, but not in a way like this.

Trixy was just about to stand and say her goodbyes when the strange redheaded dragon launched towards her. Her first instinct was to stab him in the neck with her dagger, but being in a peaceful public place, such a reaction wouldn’t fly – even if she [i]could[/i] just compel all of the café guests to forget it happened. Dan hugged her, he fucking hugged her, a stranger… who does that? And then the word vomit came, he said how this was so ‘great’ and ‘wonderful’ (not adjectives Trixy would have picked), and he even mentioned cakes and her in a wedding dress. 

When Danilo tried to coax her outside, she stood as still as stone. Trixy gripped the dragon’s arm with affair amount of her vampire strength. Her eyes were cold and fierce, and when she spoke, her words came out rigid and haunting. “So you like fairytales, do you? I used to live in a fairy tale. I knew a love so strong, it would make a hopeless romantic like yourself weep. And I did wear a dress like that once, more beautiful and elegant than you could imagine, France has always been at the front line of fashion.  And then one day, the fairy tale was over, and the ending was the stuff of nightmares. And do you know what happened to the protagonist of that story? Well, she became the villain, and villains? ... Villains don’t get happy endings.” She released his arm, obviously having caused some amount of pain. Her hatred was a bit misdirected at him, but she wouldn’t apologize for it. Trixy smoothed her sweater down when she looked at Solenne “I’ll find the rogue on my own. He’s wanted dead by the NYPD for his crimes.” Her eyes flicked back to the dragon “You were wrong, by the way, humans are perhaps more racist now than they ever were. They fear what they can’t control, that’s why they hired me.” At that, she turned to leave the café. A certain level of sadness hung over her and a weaker, more human version of her might have cried, but she’d abandoned such humanity long ago. Or so she thought…