Lee gasps at the hand on her lower leg, but she's instinctively silent, biting down on a scream like her life depends on it. In the moment, it feels like it does. Right now there's just one vampire angry at her, but if she screams - or if he does - then there'll be more. A lot more, depending on who's home.

She can't help it. She looks at his stomach, where all his stolen blood washes out. It weights his shirt down and makes it stick to his skin and the knife, means Lee can't see the cut itself as he pulls out the blade. He doesn't move like someone dying. Will he survive a knife to the stomach? Lee wouldn't, but then, Lee wouldn't survive on blood alone, either.

Lee kicks viciously at the hand on her ankle, the sole of her free foot colliding with a hand that feels like it was carved from wood. She makes a sound then, when it doesn't budge, a low helpless roar that only comes through gritted teeth. "Of course!" She stares at him, blunt fingernails grabbing at the stone floor, trying to find anything to grab onto, to pull herself back and away from him. His eyes look so sad and liquid, like they always do. "How can you even ask me that? Doesn't everyone here try to escape?"