She took the pencils from him, satisfied by the familiar clacking of wood on wood that they made. Comfort food for the soul. "Vampires can't drown," she said, falling easier into the patter of conversation. "But having your lungs fill up with water is really annoying. Mostly because you have to clear it out after."

Which kind of felt like an appropriate metaphor for their conversation.

Sam had done a great job of avoiding the things she'd said. But she had to cough them up eventually.

Or something less strained than that.

"What brings you slumming back to your old haunt?" she asked, walking down the rest of the stairs, over to her table, flickering in the light of her jenky menorah.