A flutter of a breeze caused a few wayward strands of hair to fly loose from behind her ear where she had tucked them. Her normally, neatly woven braid was in disarray from travel and weather. It caused a halo of wispy dark hair to frame her face, while heavier strands, which had come undone from the braid, fell in loops around her shoulders, trapped by the collar of her heavy clothes. It hid the true length of her hair, which was still mostly hidden under the dirtied material of her cloak. 

She had sought a moment of solace -- a moment alone to think and to contemplate -- but had been denied the reprieve. Without an ounce of strain, the man had hopped over the bar and was now crouching down, close to her. 

Gabriela couldn’t help but examine his hands as they came into view. His fingers were long and pale, and his fingernails -- so much like her own -- appeared to shine as if a gloss had been applied to them. But there was a quality of density to them that she recognized -- those nails could carve into metal. He attempted to pluck a few pieces of the shattered glass, but she shook her head and nudged his hands away with the back of hers. His flesh was cold, like polished marble. 

“You’ll cut yourself,” she stated, impassively, under her breath and he read her message loud and clear and gave her some space. It was a truly silly thought -- a vampyre worrying and fretting over another vampyre cutting themselves on glass. It was perhaps the pinnacle of pretenses.

Corbin straightened and took a step back. 

[i]“I am well accustomed to invoking terror unto others,” he said down to her, “...but under extraordinarily different circumstances.”[/i]

Still down on one knee, and still plucking pieces of glass from the floor, Gabriela shifted her gaze upward. She took in the sight of his slacks, of the belt around his waist, of his shirt -- so neatly tucked in, and the heavy coat that hung over his shoulders but draped open across his chest. His words disturbed her, and there was a faint remembrance of who she had been so very long ago. 

She had never savored her power; she had always sought to be small, meek-like, and unassuming. Unlike this stranger, she wasn’t accustomed to invoking terror in others -- in fact, she did everything in her power to do the opposite. 

But that was a lifetime ago…

[i]“You need not fear me,”[/i] the man went on to say -- his arrogance causing a ghost of a smile to touch her lips. 

“I don’t,” she replied, climbing back to her feet with a handful of glass, “...you just caught me off guard. The last thing I expected to see in these parts was another…” She glanced sideways to the nearest patrons and gave Corbin a knowing look. 

“Someone like me.”