LaCroix rose from his chair as soon as her fist struck the door and he strode quickly to answer it. Any words he was about to utter were cut off by her petite body being threw against him. At first he seemed slightly unsure how to handle her in such a distraught state but after a few moments had passed with her weeping into his shoulder, he let his arms wrap around her in his best attempt at a comforting embrace as he tried to soothe her distress with “It’s alright….shhh…”
That was when a familiar scent filled his nostrils. It was the smell of blood. Gently he pulled his hand up so he could see over her, seeing what he knew as blood on his palm. Surprised, he grasped her shoulders and eased her back so he could peer in her face. “What have you done to yourself Alessa?” he inquired, his large pallid face expressing a look that resembled a disquieted paternal figure.