Well, that backs him up half a step. He goes from a grip to her shoulder to his fingertips resting--but they do rest. The memory is still hit-and-run, choppy and out of context, but the change makes him think of Parker. Parker was always different, Parker was always--a little dangerous.

And there had been no changing it, but he'd done his best to embrace and contain it. Picked Parker up from a field in another county, looked at the thing behind his eyes and waited it out.

He doesn't think Parker ever popped fangs, but. He wouldn't have been wholly surprised if he had. "Alright," he breathes, keeping steady as he can. "Sam: what do you want to do."