Her eyes squinted at his form in the darkness, taking in what he had to state.<br/><br/>As he moved past her, she turned, a side table of walnut standing against the wall, heralding a wrought-iron lamp. Her fingertips turned the small knob, illuminating the room.<br/><br/>She was not one for material goods, not those she had to procure with monetary means. Yes, she was a thief, but her taken items were for a reason; she learned by them. Everyone left fingerprints of some type, and she enjoyed getting to know souls by those prints. She wasn't addicted, no, she could stop....anytime.<br/><br/>The room had an odd flair to it, a large dark leather couch, still reeking of being new, sat in the middle of the room, overpowering a walnut coffee table. There was no television, only a bookshelf that sat near the window, which was shuttered closed; typical of this city. It kept the boogieman out, so they say.<br/><br/>The bookshelf did not yield books, rather trinkets. Some pieces of newer jewelry, some antique baubles, a few keys ranging from skeleton keys to tiny locket keys, and various other goods.<br/><br/>There were no knick-knacks, nothing fancy at all about this room, it served a purpose, and living here was not it.<br/><br/>Upon his moving towards her sofa, the quick brush fed her quite a bit of information regarding his overall health.<br/><br/>He was ill, to what extent she was unsure. She sensed the aching head, and a feverish condition. He was not lying about needing to feed.<br/><br/>Two hundred years, seemed a bit....long. Sure, she could go a few weeks, perhaps months, years if she slept; hundreds of years? And walking? No, no that didn't seem correct. She turned, tilting her head at him, hands pulling up at her own mess of hair, working on a make-shift bun as she spoke in a reply.<br/><br/>"Exactly how could you go that long? Perhaps your fever has you thining unclearly, which would explain your actions. And exactly what do you expect me to do about that?"<br/><br/>Her mouth clamped shut, brow furrowing in a strange expression, head now tilting at the dark man the other way, as if mesmorized, hoping a different angle would change how she viewed him.<br/><br/>"You wish to feed from me?? That is much to ask, sir. Quite...forward of you, no?"<br/><br/>She chuckles, she had been approached before, yes, and always found it amusing. She is not a sharer, especially with strangers that cause such life-altering upheavals.<br/><br/>Her sloppy bun in place, she passes to the window, hands unlatching the shutters and swinging them open, a rush of southern-scented air filling the room. She stares down at the busy street; ah New Orleans is so vibrant! Her tone is lulling, almost inviting as she makes an offer, "or perhaps you'd like me to bring you a meal, eh? Tell me what your taste is for, I will hunt for you this night, delivery is free."<br/><br/>A huge smile passes her features as she stares at the crowds below, many drunk, passing out their beads as they show parts of their bodies to complete strangers in exchange. Foolish humans and their whims, plastic beads are not worth such a display. She giggles as she continues to watch them, waiting on his answer.