Claire gave Patrick a silent salute, fingers against her brow, after catching the cigarette he threw at her. She wasn't a smoker, per se, but did indulge in one every so often. The herbal variety (along with different company) was more her thing.
"Stop talking bullshit, Donovan," she chastised, using the tip of her wand to light the cigarette. Leaning back against the wall she took a deep drag, eyeing him warily. For some reason she didn't think that the killer was a student, thought that the method and means the murders were committed under were too advanced, too thorough for someone who was still learning about some of the more basic principles of magic. The runes were puzzling too.
But the way that Patrick was talking made her shudder and she couldn't take her eyes off him. Silhouetted against the shattering of light, surrounded by the walls of the castle, whether he meant it or not, he was coming off as threatening. Joking (because she was almost 100% sure he was) about the killings in a context like this wasn't funny.