The profanity alone would have made her jump, even if it had not been all but screamed at her. Then the blonde girl was wrenching on her arm, tugging hard enough to hurt. And she was still insisting that this illness made people into cannibals. It was not a funny joke any longer.
“But he needs help. We must help him.” She did not exactly tug in return, as that would have possibly hurt more. And perhaps hurt the blond girl as well. But there was noticeable resistance on Jeannie’s part as she was urged down the street, away from the man who had obviously been asking for aid.
“Please, stop--” Her words, intended to plead for compassion, were cut short by the feel of something cold and clammy on her arm. Turning her head to look, Jeannie saw that another of the ill people had grasped her wrist and was moaning. Oh, the poor thing was in pain.
“Do not worry,” she assured the… woman? It was rather difficult to tell, actually. But the djinn did her best. “Do not worry, we will help you.”
The woman responded by promptly biting into Jeannie’s forearm. She blinked in confusion, then turned to look at the blonde girl. “You were not joking.”
Then a very strange sensation began to overtake her.