Sam took the rag, gingerly. As if he were offering her uranium or some sort of isotopic solution. It took her a second to recognize the rag--and gesture--for what it was.

And a second longer to feel a small swell of panic.

Maybe Sam wasn't exactly the best Kindred. She had all the subtly of a bullbozer. But she knew what a Masquerade breach was. And she could tell from the way her eyes felt that she'd just made one.

Big time.

The fact that he wasn't freaking the fuck out and running for the hills was...puzzling.

"Thanks," she said, brushing the rag against her eyes. Two telltale smears of red were left behind.