He realized belatedly that he had an opportunity to seal her to him with a kiss, and he hadn't taken it. The old him probably would have, would have never missed an opportunity for a kiss from anyone. Kisses were innocent after all, a way to show affection and keep it to himself while never pushing too far. Dames loved to be kissed, and he had always been very good at it. Clearly, he needed practice reading the signs again; too much killing had dulled his fangs in that area. No, not just the killing... it was everything else as well.

He knew better than to try to recover the situation, and he knew that the kitchen was probably a safe place for him. It wasn't particularly safe for her given the pointy objects in there, but it was safe for him. "No, not really hungry, but maybe if they have some milk," he uttered softly. Why had he said that? What was it about milk that made him reflect far too deeply on old jobs that he didn't really remember?

He followed, abandoning the deck and the music and the dance steps they had made there.