Read that letter, Thames—my lord marquis, I mean. I wonder. The window was shortly after opened, and a rope ladder, with a lighted horn lantern attached to it, let down. She was strong, not unlike a pack mule or a camel; she thought to herself and smirked. She had even tried a needle and a catheter on a victim once, but had found that the process was so frustrating and slow that she barely gained any sustenance and had done the worst thing imaginable: wasted a kill. You know, Melusine. “Am I hurting you?” She asked. "It is droll," he said.
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