Liver spots? Marring her perfect skin? The thought was almost enough make her lie in front of Dennis like a sacrificial lamb and demand he work his magic right then and there. But that was quickly tempered when she remembered that he had fangs.
"Don't put yourself through eating Umbridge," Orla insisted. It sounded an absolute horrid idea which would play havoc on even the undead's stomach.
"Go and pick you up?" she scoffed, but ended with, "Well, maybe, if she gets terribly horrible." And at this point, anything was possible. She was restricting their speech already, and Orla could only guess which 'decree' was coming next. She considered them rubbish.
"Anything for the road? Besides my thanks, of course, which I'm sure will keep you warmer on the inside than any pint of blood."