[It's the taste of old blood in the air that calls Toby. It's a sour taste, like broken humanity and death and wrongness. That and the shouting into the hallway. She touches her knife for comfort, but doesn't pull it out, slipping into the room instead, and frowning. The scent is definitely from this man, locked up for some reason, and threatening to hang himself, but it doesn't make sense to her. It's like no balance of blood she's ever felt, and he looks human. So does she, of course, but she's usually pretty good at spotting an illusion, and he doesn't have one on, or if he does, it's too strong for her to see it.
It makes her curious.]
I don't think they'd hold you. They look pretty flimsy.
ANGELUS
It makes her curious.]
I don't think they'd hold you. They look pretty flimsy.