Vanessa didnâ€™t bother to feign surprise or even sit up.  She crossed her arms behind her head and tilted her head to look at the man standing in her doorway, and she smiled.  â€œWell hello.  Iâ€™ll pretend you knocked on my door and I invited you in and all of those other niceties.    They stepped it up a notch, did they? I was wondering when they would send you.  Your reputation precedes you.  Anyway, my life wasnâ€™t worth shit.  Neither was my undead death either, except perhaps I became slightly more useful to the dredges of society.  But you must certainly already know how much my â€œtrue deathâ€ is worth.  You donâ€™t strike me as the cheap type.  Tell me, how much did they pay you up front?â€<br/><br/>Vanessa dropped the smile, not really expecting any answer to her sarcasm other than probably forfeiting what might have been a quick and painless death.  â€œI take you as the hunter type.  If you are expecting a further drawn out cat-and-mouse game, you are SOL, bud.  Iâ€™m tired of this. Iâ€™m tired of running, particularly from the usual morons that fancy themselves as bounty hunters.  You would be doing me a /favor/ by just killing me quickly.  Seeing as how you chose to come after me at almost daybreak, I donâ€™t think thatâ€™s in the cards for me.  Nobody can hear us.  Itâ€™s just you, me, and this one-roomed dump, so have at it.â€  Her slight rant over, Vanessa sighed and went back to staring straight up at the ceiling, though her other senses were keenly aware to every move the man made.