“I am not perfect and I don’t claim to be.” [ pushes this on here. ]
“None of us in this damned organization are.”
The artificial vampire was stretched out across three desks, long legs bent at the knee. Her fingers played an unheard melody against her stomach, heel beating in time. The topic was serious, but still Adette refused to turn and face him. Her eyes remained on the ceiling.
“I mean, have you met Samiel? Und then there’s he’s CHILDE. Me, you-- Sir Integra. None of us are without sin und mistakes und whatever other shit they like to throw at us.”












