She turned her head at the sound of his voice, releasing her knees and shifting her weight so that she could look up at him. She felt no fear at the sight of him, perhaps a side affect of being in this particular place. The man before her was so different than the man she had fought at the Midnight Hotel. He seemed broken, and not just because he was still injured.

"Better than you it seems." Her voice was even, almost emotionless, yet she looked away from him,"I'm sorry."

It had been her teeth that had torn into his flesh, her weight that had injured his back, her power which had ripped apart his home and, on top of it all, she had tried to take his soul. If only she hadn't given in, if she hadn't become so drunk on her own darkness that it had clouded her judgement.