There was no fear in the albino—at least, none that she’d permit to show—and Vesper thought back to when she’d been recuperating in the guesthouse near the mansion. She’d been afraid, then, with Helotes pressing into her space, her injured body helplessly curled in a tight ball. She reasoned that she wasn’t as scary as the dark brute could be, though, and she knew deep down she didn’t want to scare or hurt Cassandra until she was given a reason. She did want to gauge the other’s strength, though, and let her know that she was serious, a member of the clan to be respected even if the loner didn’t believe in hierarchy.
Her response made sense, and the pale tawny coyote might have agreed with it, but she no longer wanted to talk bullshit and philosophy. There was a stiffness to her wiry body as the other leaned forward, her claws sliding from their sheaths to tip her white fingers, but then the other bared her teeth with a sharp proclamation that had the Centurion drawing back slightly.
The grin Vesper shot the albino woman was sharp-fanged, not quite friendly but not quite as unkind. “Good,” she yapped back, and straightened. “I’ll hold you to that, and I’ll do the same to you if you hurt her.” It was clear she didn’t have much faith in sisters. She continued to grin a ’yotish grin, tilting her head slightly as she regarded Cassandra in a different light. “I don’t think we’re that different, you and I,” she remarked lazily, blue eyes flickering over the other’s narrow features. That was probably why they already got along so well.
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