Trixy never ran as a human; That kind of thing wasn’t really appropriate, given what women wore at the time. Even with that being so, her false breathing came heavy, as if her long-dead lungs were struggling for oxygen in the sprint. Breathing was something vampires taught themselves to do, so they could blend in with the living. Generally, the breaths didn’t change the pace; the timing of it was something subconsciously measured. Maybe this was something more… fear? Anxiety? Well, it didn’t really matter, she didn’t have to face it now. She’d met him, however brief, and it was on the date written, so, prophecy fulfilled! No need for any of that mushy soul mate nonsense, right? And that’s when she heard them: the heavy footfalls gaining ground behind her.

Oh no, he was [i]chasing[/i] her. He was fast enough to chase a [i]vampire[/i], hell, he fast enough to catch up with one! Trixy’s bright blue eyes widened and she sniffed in a deep inhale. Her nose scrunched up in disgust, how had she missed that stench? He was a werewolf, oh gods, what if he was English too? Béatrix went through her options in her head as she ran, and one thing was clear: she couldn’t keep running. Werewolves were faster than vampires, and he had her scent now. He'd catch her, or he'd find her. She could stop and try to weasel her way out of this using her beloved mind games, or she could just face fate, or… she could kill him.

Béatrix stopped dead in her tracks and spun on her heels. She once again wielded her glock 22, this time with a matching twin in her left hand. One’s good, two’s better, especially when dealing with wolves. Her steely blue eyes locked with his in a deadly blue glare. “Stop right there, dog, you are chasing a special agent of New York’s finest whose bullets are always laced with silver.” Her Old French accent was quite thick, despite the time she spent travelling and becoming fluent in multiple different languages. Vampires were seductive predators, and even though she was poised to kill, she was gorgeous in that femme fatale kind of way.

Staring directly at him now, there were some things she couldn't avoid. Like the urgent burning in her wrist, and the tattoo glowing bright through the bindings that covered it. And the way she felt her heart up in her ears, as if it still had a beat. Somehow this felt more intense than when she had first met Francis. Maybe that's because she was a human then? Vampires have stronger feelings, feelings that lasted forever. But that didn't mean she had to love this man. No, hate is a strong feeling too. Regardless, her hands weren't as steady as they usually were. To a very keen eye, it was obvious that the guns were tremoring in her fingers slightly.