Darla's smile flickered, although only for an instant, when Lindsey asked why she didn't kill Peter. The hand that has lost the finger bunched up into a fist and she sat up a bit in her chair so he wouldn't see the tiny crescent-shaped gouges she was leaving in her palm, or the blood that was slowly seeping from the wounds.
"Weren't you listening, Lindsey?" she questioned in an airy tone that still held a bit of warning behind it. "I stabbed him in the head with a knife and left it there. It was as close to killing him as I could manage to get since I clearly couldn't drain him dry." With a small shrug of her shoulders, she studied him a moment longer before adding flippantly, "And the calvary arrived and rescued him before I could experiment any more, alright?"
With a heavy sigh - appearing well and thoroughly annoyed that he'd made her admit as much - she slowly unclenched her fist and pulled it out from under the table. Lightly resting her hands on the armrests in the chair, she listened as he went through a few ideas, her smile returning full-force by the time he'd finished.
That was the Lindsey McDonald she knew. Such a brilliant mind. Part of her almost regretted having not turned him that night at the party.
"Just remember our deal, Lindsey," she replied softly. "And when you do get ahold of him, do me a favor?" Her smile turned positively lethal. "Let me know. I want to be there firsthand when he breathes his last breath. I'm certain it will be quite a sight to behold."