Being a vampire made somewhere like Las Vegas a more interesting hunting ground than most. One might assume it would be desirable, but for a being so sensitive to movement, scent and sound, it could overwhelm the senses to an uncomfortable level. Anti-perspirant, perfume and simple alcohol of cocktail beverages in hand - they all served to mask the more obvious features of how someone could smell, up close.
But none of that prevented a sense of nervous awkwardness being detected. Something was off, even if his true nature still remained a secret. She might not have her own fangs bared, but Katherine's watchful gaze was probably feeling like a dragon's sizing up something unlucky to burn.
"Yeah... I know how it is. Mistakes happen," she agreed. But there was an undercurrent of something else beneath her body language. One which was made clear with the way she reached out with an arm to place around his shoulder, using hand to give him a comforting pat upon the nearest. It made for the most unexpected similarity to a high school jock reminding their favourite nerdy victim their lunch money payment was overdue.
He knew something. She just couldn't place what.
"See, back in the day, my... You could call her my step-mom... She used to give me a farewell, knowing I'd be getting us dinner. 'Happy hunting, Kitty,' she'd sometimes say."
"Happy hunting, kitty..."
And that grasp over Frankie's shoulders tightened just a little. A little too much, maybe.
"And always... Always... I'd bring back something. 'Specially if it squealed... Just something about that noise, makes you want to end it, y'know? And sometimes I miss those days... Down on the farm. That's when I get an urge to find something. Something I know'll squeal... And end it. Makes me feel all girly on the inside. You can relate to that, right? Uh... What's your name, again...? For future reference an' all."