Claire jumped at the voice, head snapping around to see who it was. Gemma. "Fuck," she gasped, laughing nervously and pressing a hand to her chest. "Gem, for Godric's sake. You can't give me a spiel about the killer just after you've scared me half to death with your creeping," she chided, giving the younger girl a glare as she took a seat beside her.
Knowing how nervous Gemma had become after Lysander's death Claire had made an effort to keep the lines of communication open between the two of them -- not easy with the whole 'werewolf' thing and what had recently gone on between Caiden and Wes. Maybe it was just Claire who was making it awkward by thinking that it was so. But she was trying.
"It's still light, anyway," she added, looking over the crenellations of the tower towards the sunset. "I wasn't going to be out here much longer." That was true. Every attack had happened at night, in the dead of night. Keeping this in mind, Claire thought that it was perfectly reasonable to be out until the sun went down -- light dispersed any threat would otherwise overrun the imagination.
Glancing back over at Gemma, Claire followed her friend's eyes to the book in her own lap. Opening her mouth to bring the topic up her pupils narrowed instead, ears pricking at the sound of approaching footsteps. She closed the book quietly and turned her head to look over Gemma's shoulder to see who it was.