... I have every reason to suspect that everything here is alien in nature.
That would explain why she felt... the way she felt. In the bar, she'd noticed that her hunger was strange. It was like somehow, her body knew, even if her mind didn't, that her chances to feed were going to be slim. Like it knew that the people weren't human. And as a result, it was pushing her more and more toward hunting and feeding.
Phaedra frowned.
Even so, she went to work on the door lock. She had thought ahead and put the necessary tools in her pocket.
The people didn't smell different, though. That was the troubling part. No wonder she was having a hard time reconciling all of this. If they were different, it wasn't obvious on the level that humans and werewolves were, or humans and creatures like Simon.
Or maybe she'd just been too distracted to notice.
She stopped moving her hands when Cas offered her his blood, and she stood up from her crouched position and arched a brow at him.
"It's not that I'm desperate," Phaedra clarified. "It's that I don't wish to become desperate and start using all of you as snacks."
There was an important distinction. Surely Cas could appreciate it, even though she was certain that the vampires he'd encountered were not like her in the least.
Dean'd had those in his head. And he'd told her about them, too. They were more animal than she had ever been, even on her most starved day.
Phaedra considered what he was offering, and she went back to work on the door. When it didn't budge fast enough, she swore at it in Roma, stood up straight once again, stepped back five feet, and kicked it in.
With a self-satisfied smile, she put the lockpick tools back in her jacket and walked through the door.
"I'd like you to really think about what you just offered," Phaedra said over her shoulder. "It's not just blood. I'd know a great deal about you afterward. Perhaps more than you want."
She scanned the shelves in here, looking at the pouches of blood and plasma that sat in little refridgerated compartments.