Lucy Cramwell found it a good deal harder to ignore certain cues on one's senses, these days. Sound was a key one, although, thankfully, hearing, much like eyesight, seemed to adjust when what it keyed on became too 'dense'. Still a lot more sensitive than most people, which was why walking through streets could almost seem like a chore, at certain times, but adjusted, nevertheless.
And she had learned to associate the smell of blood with satisfaction for the new appetite which dwelled within her.
It was particularly strong here. She had feared that, perhaps, there might have been an accident or stabbing, but it was a curiosity she was no more able to put to rest, than someone who could detect bacon being fried. This, however, was far more aromatic than that from any butcher's shop. Quite why no others seemed to notice it, she was not about to complain of, for the girl was hardly going to kick up a fuss at a lack of people trying to clean up a potentially easy meal. Whatever the source of it, she had to know. Had to investigate. Had to...
Blink-blink.
A house?
Lucy knew enough to realise that the barrier of private residences seemed to be an insurmountable obstacle for her. Quite why, she had no understanding of, but the smell... What if those inside had died? And if they had, did that mean... A potential upgrade in living arrangements could be had?
Intrigued beyond all measure now, the vampiress took a chance, looked both ways and opened the door to find out. Having rounded the corner before simon's arrival, she could not have known others might have already been lured in, similarly.
And when the door closed quietly behind, a hungering vampire had just joined the ranks of the interned...