[Hearing Lestat label his dom as delicious is enough for Cass to sullenly shove the cigarette back between his own lips and clench his jaw in frustration, smoke billowing from his nostrils seconds later.]
I don't feckin' know, do I? J-just... sunlight? Holy water? Garlic. I dunno what the shite works with your type.
no subject
I don't feckin' know, do I? J-just... sunlight? Holy water? Garlic. I dunno what the shite works with your type.