Harry laughed at the idea of the swords. "You have to admit, it might be a better story if it did involve fucked up, hilarious little swords. I can't think of any situation that wouldn't benefit from that particular addition."
He shook his head. "I know I spent a while in the woods watching faeries. The only problem is, I don't know if I was really watching faeries, or just hallucinating. Maybe I shared the moonshine. It might explain why so many of them like me." Apart from the weekly bribes of pizza, that was.
Harry glanced at the kitchen and the stove. "I'm not much of a cook," he said. "I usually get by on soups and sandwiches." He took another sip of his beer, thinking about how to phrase what he wanted to say. "Thomas, a good friend of mine, is a White Court vampire. He still needs to eat and drink to keep himself going, even apart from his Hunger. But the White Court is a lot closer to human in plenty of ways." He glanced back at Phaedra. "You're not like most of the vampires I've encountered. Red Court is gone, and you don't fit that bill anyway. Not White. Definitely not Black. So... what do I need to know?"
It was a safer question than asking what the hell she was. Harry was starting to relax (the swapped stories and the beer was a good start at that), so knowing how to treat her would be a large step in keeping that level of calm. He didn't like the idea of being nervous in his own home.