Béatrix lay quietly on the ground, feeling surprisingly secure enough to fall in to and out of consciousness. Perhaps it wasn’t as much security as it was her injuries. A hit to the heart was enough to incompacitate a vampire at worst,  and slow to heal at best. One thing was for sure, and that was that she needed blood – badly. She hoped the mug she had before bed would be enough to heal her now, or she might end up doing something reckless.

Tholo sat up before Trixy, as wolves were notoriously fast healers. Not wanting to seem weak, Béatrix pushed herself to sit upright as well, despite the fact that her heart was still healing. Trixy took a deep breath, in doing so she noticed that Bartholomew smelled like he had drank a whole bar, she vainly wondered if she was the reason for his drinking.

[i]”Want a cig?”[/i] he asked, breaking the silence between them. Trixy laughed quietly at his choice of thanks, the motion causing pain to throb in her chest. [i]”Or a cup of coffee? Don’t have blood.?”[/i] Just the mention of the last word was enough to quiet her laughter and awaken her inner vampire. The veins around her eyes darkened with desire, constrasting her skin like tiny fractures in porcelain. Had he been human, he would have been in trouble, but werewolf blood was a big turn off to vampires.

”I-I have some. It’s in the pack on my bike out front  - but, I can’t go out there looking like this,” Trixy pulled the light grey tank away from her body, the blood left a huge gruesome stain and caused it to cling to her Kevlar vest. She may be used to being covered in blood, but the innocent NYC passerbys would not be. ”Would you get it for me? I’d call it even for saving your ass.” she said snarkily, injured or not, she’d never miss the change to poke the wolf.