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[ It's not as if their situations could get worse, surely? Tadpoles, the ever present threat of danger, the fear of never being able to overcome anything... Well, he can imagine fewer worse things. ]

Not this time, but if I try it again I'm sure it'll be the end of me.

Shall I prepare an appropriately mournful eulogy, or would you prefer to do the honors?

[ a recovering goth girl and vampire spawn walk into a camp of weirdos. the humor is predictably morbid. ]

Go ahead. I'm sure I'll be thrilled to see what you come up with.

Thrilled? Hardly. In fact, you'll be quite dead.

[ a message doesn't need to be audible to imagine the bone-dry sarcasm behind it, as it turns out. ]

Shadowheart, darling, I'm already quite dead.

I would argue you're rather alive for an undead nightmare.

A nightmare? I think I'm something more of a dream.

Oh, yes. The sights and sounds of you tearing through rabbit innards under the glow of the moon is what I've always dreamed of.

Come now. Rabbit is far too small to sustain me most days.

Forgive me. I had forgotten you've developed the fussy appetite of a pampered housecat.

A discerning pampered housecat.

How selective can tearing out a creature's throat truly be? I've my doubts they offer culinary and decorum lessons in the subject.

You would be surprised, then. It's as delicate as selecting a proper vintage of wine.

A bold claim to make. But do go on — you've intrigued me, now.

It depends on their size, diet, inclination - all kinds of things.

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