“I am sorry.” She said in a whisper that was bulging with tangible meaning.  She couldn’t remember the last time those three words passed her lips. Was it to Francis? Did she mean it then? Surely she meant it now, as her gut twisted in knots. When was the last time she felt emotions like sympathy and sorrow? Was it possible for her to feel… [i]other[/i] feelings again as well?

A flush crept up her pale neck, but not enough to meet the cheek that Alistair placed a peck on. In his own nervousness he let out a slew of word vomit, making sure to fully inform her on what he knew about the situation. When he mentioned that he knew who took Maria, Trixy tilted her head in curiosity before she fumbled for her smart phone. 

“What do you think this means? Blood is purposefully misspelled, you can tell because it's capitalized.” Trixy said as she held the phone in her palm. She looked up at him with worry in her eyes before showing him the picture. “The blood was hers, the whole room screamed of her scent, that’s why I was so sure that she was actually in there.”

Beatrix chewed on her bottom lip with a fang and nodded in agreement with Alistair “She is still alive, but I don’t think she’s conscious. I couldn’t reach her.” She said, pointing a finger to her temple as she said ‘reach’. “Either that, or she is [i]very[/i] far away.” She offered.

“Tonight, you say? Should we try to get some rest during the day?” she asked, as if rest was possible. Trixy finally offered the dress to Alistair, she had pulled it off the wall to give to him, after all.