Jessica took a look at the dead rabbit, at the single claw that had now very obviously come from this man’s knuckles, and pulled her flask out from her pocket and swallowed deeply. She was already regretting her decision to not make her coffee Irish.
But when she restoppered the flask, things still weren’t making any sense. “Who the hell are you and how do you know my name?” she asked. That would probably be the easiest question to answer.