Praetor did not flinched as she she walked towards him, his eyes narrowed in a glare, he resisted the urge to lick the blood instead wiping it away, he spat on her boots as she passed him. "You sicken me, I am not some weak willed man you can seduce with a smile and your saunter. I simply wished to ensure that wretched mans survival. Now unless you have something you wish to discuss you may go... You may go as well." Out from the shadows steps a squad of pale skinned un-dead world war I British riflemen, the one in lieutenants uniform saluted as they dissipated into the wind. "I hope you don't mind they had there sights trained on you the whole time, I take no chances." He turned to the rest of the Blackmoore's that lay in waiting. "You may come out, I heard you approach you young fools."