Rachel's eyes widened at Karl's revelation, though she'd guessed at least one of the two was a vampire, by the one word she'd picked up from Baldur's comment.  Though that wasn't saying much for her linguistic skills, considering the words were practically pronounced the same in both languages anyway, it seemed.<br/><br/>She wasn't sure what Karl meant by his job description, but apparently Bridget did, and she wasn't happy about it, to put it mildly.  Mercenary she could understand, or at least she thought she knew what the term meant, some sort of covert assassin.  She'd never come across a vampire before, at least that she knew of, though her parents had explained the circumstances that led to vampires abandoning their secrecy and getting equal rights with humans a few years before she'd been born.  She'd always wondered what one would be like, but now that she'd met one, maybe two, it turned out they were basically hired guns.  Or maybe hired fangs would be the better euphamism, she thought ruefully.  That certainly explained where their money came from.<br/><br/>It was too bad, because she'd liked talking books with Karl, and he'd seemed like a genuine nice guy.  She hadn't been afraid of him, and even now it was hard for her to picture him wanting to hurt them, but she didn't know either he or Baldur from any other person in the club, and they could do anything with her and Bridget that they liked, if they got them where there wouldn't be witnesses.  It was obvious their morals weren't exactly saintly.<br/><br/>Rachel didn't have Bridget's knack for sarcasm, and even if she had, Bridget was expressing plenty for both of them.  She paled at how close they'd come to possibly being in danger, or worse, suddenly not in a mood for drinking.  Best to be able to think clearly.  "I think you're right, we better go," she answered Bridget, more frightened than truly angry, yet somehow sad at the same time.  Were all vampires like these two?  She hoped not, but her first impression of them wasn't flattering.