The locks sounded off like the nostalgia from some daydream. She almost swore she could have been here before, it felt as real and actual as any way she'd ever imagined it. Vaughn could remember imagining things like this, in the beginning. Before Boyd, before everything got fucked. Vaughn didn't have much of a mind for dreams these days.
The door opened, soundless. Her eyes lifted, gas chamber smoke in the irises, and she regarded the dark space that befell the crack between door and jamb. When she stepped forward, all of the weight was on her toes, and those murder-sharp heels didn't make a sound. She didn't enter just yet, but took up a perch in the doorway.
"Aren't you going to invite me in?" Like a vampire hovering at the threshold. Although, they both knew that Vaughn didn't really need an invitation.