“I’m anything but frail, as you well know,” Callisto shot back, returning his smirk with one that would hopefully remind him of their occasional scuffles and how things had gone down the last time. “Stalking you? She let out a soft snort. “I think you should do your dreaming in bed, Victor. Why ever would I stalk you?”
Glancing down, Callisto waited for a lull in the foot traffic around Creed and then launched herself over the balcony railing, with the tails of her coat flying around her. She landed like a cat, soft and light on her feet, legs absorbing the impact with no observable hitch before beginning to walk towards him. Here we go again, she thought, as her nose caught whiff of what his body language was projecting loud enough to be heard in New Jersey.
“Business is always good when you know where to find it,” Cal remarked, as she took up residence across from Creed, leaning against one of several pillars that framed a large open area. With her back to it, they could talk in relative privacy.
“You don’t seem quite yourself tonight, Victor,” Callisto remarked, crossing her arms over her chest. The automatic pistols she carried under her arms were a familiar and comforting weight. “Feeling a little guilty, phral? Are the ghosts bacd tonight?” Unconciously, Cal formed her fingers into a warding gesture at her side to protect herself from speking of such prikaza things as the ghosts of Victor's dead victims.
---------------------------------------------- Phral - man prikaza - unlucky