Stupid kid, should have left it well alone. A silver plated boot nudged the foot of the slumped body, but it didn’t stir. Who exactly had put him up to this, she wondered. On his own as well, if he’d been sent… Then it was at a cruel joke. She didn’t feel too sorry for him of course, otherwise she wouldn’t have disembowelled him herself.
She holstered the pistol, placing a hand on her side- wet, not bad. The tip of the Chikage touched the pooled blood and she didn’t pull it away. Better to have it drink someone else for a change.
Shit, what was wrong with her? This is what happened when she repressed herself; sloppy, unfocused. All in an effort to prevent bloodshed which evidently, hadn’t worked. Someone else was here- quite an incriminating scene. Speed always needed to be tested, so she didn’t reach for her pistol just yet. Her katana was damning enough.
She turned to face the newcomer, her hand leaving the wound on her side. “But this is though.” She held the silver gauntlet out to her side, letting the crimson splash onto the floor…
Only to sizzle and burn holes into the ground like a virulent acid.
“I wouldn’t touch it if I were you.”
Jubilee bares her fangs almost as soon as the masked individual admits whose blood it is. In the face of a threat, her mind jumps to defensive strategies in case they attack.
In spite of this, the person in front of her seems not only unaffected, but civil. The vampire doesn’t realize her expression is still tense until she tries to respond, her muscles forcibly relaxing then.
“ya know, telling me NOT to touch something feels like a challenge.” Her lips quirk up in a weak smirk, a feeble attempt to lighten the atmosphere. The act falls flat when she catches another whiff of fresh blood and her tongue darts out to lick her lips.
Once she’s satisfied surveying the destructive substance oozing from the other, she lets out a breath of air. A fisted hand at each side of her body, she nods seriously between the stranger and their demonstration. “i’ll take it as a warning this time.”
“so, for someone standing over a dead body, you’re awfully calm...” she prods while circling the scene, far enough to keep her hunger at bay and close enough to analyze the scene. Self-defense doesn’t strike her as a likely reason for the bloodshed until she spots a weapon in the boy’s hands, one that warrants a heavier question,
