There's another long beat before she answers. She tests her teeth with her tongue behind her hand. Only when she's satisfied that she has them under control does she let it fall to the bar, her fingers landing on the rim of her whiskey glass.

"My tastes?" There's a little gravel in her tone as she respond, the smell of blood still strong in the air. "You think you know about my tastes, kid?"

She swallows hard, but she's not backing down that easily. If she lets herself be pushed right now, she's not sure she won't snap.

"If you're not here to buy me a drink, maybe you should head back over to your friends."