Wow, he must have had a serious allergy to talking like a normal person. Maybe he'd been cursed to talk like pretentious French asshole. She didn't know his circumstances. Her face was flaming red, but a bit of indignation was creeping in with the embarrassment. This was a bitch of a situation, and she knew about bitchy situations. Especially lately. Shitty, bitchy situations, which included men with pointy teeth and blue eyes. ...Bluer eyes. Possibly? The light, probably, it was the light. But, if she was understanding correctly, which she really might not have been, she was not pregnant, and had also wasted $35 on Plan B. Well. Better safe than sorry, considering Plan A had been "don't get raped by a bat-demon-gargoyle-thing."
"There are werewolves in this fucking city?!" She didn't quite yelp, but it was close. "And... what, fairies? Demons I knew about, but! Jesus, where the fuck am I?!" She ran a stressed hand through her hair, shedding glitter wildly. "I was better off with the fucking traffickers!"
Experience. Of a sort. "Look, I'm... I'm a bit over my head here," she said, sounding strained. "Clearly. Please just tell me what you're after." And if it's a blowjob or a soul. And if you can get me pregnant, because that's suddenly a really large concern, just, in general. But she didn't want to say that out loud.