[Hector knows the saintly Lisa of Lupu only in the reflection he saw in her husband, before and after her loss. Here she is once again, in her son’s unyielding faith in humanity. Hector wishes he could have met her, if only to understand how one woman could shape immortal beings as she did.

It’s not a thought he dares voice in front of her son, though. So he keeps quiet, a skeptical quirk of his brow his only response.

Before Carmilla, Adrian’s vigorous petting of Cesar’s belly would have moved him to trust the dhampir. He’s less naive now. Adrian’s fingernails are likely sharp as claws, and close enough to render irreparable damage if he chooses. Cesar pants and snorts in blissful ignorance.]

It’s Hector. I’m between forges at the moment. [It’s dry, defensive; Hector holds none of the power in this situation and he’s near to sulking.]

I wasn’t followed, so far as I know, but I will be hunted. The sooner I’m on my way, the better for everyone.