"They're actually not that cold," Lenore comments, lifting her fingers to her neckline and drifting them idly over the upper curve of her breast. "I'm only two hundred"--you know, only two hundred--"which is very young for a vampire. Young enough that I still crave warmth, and my body holds on to heat. I eat more human food than blood, and that also helps keep me warmer. My heart beats, sending blood through my body--slower than yours, to be sure, but several times a minute."

She knows that Nightie doesn't want to hear this and will probably say something crass, but Lenore wants her to know. She wants to make herself seem as human as possible. Relatable. Desirable. She offers her hand, palm up, though she expects her pet to ignore it. "I'm not much cooler than a human woman with poor circulation."

Once Nightie finishes eating, Lenore gathers up the cards that were being used face-up for examples, and shuffles. Her hands are deft and elegant, though they're small enough and the deck is large enough that she has to compromise a little for how she handles them, adapting her shuffle in ways that someone with larger hands or a smaller deck wouldn't have to do.

She deals the cards between them on the blanket, sets the deck between them, and picks up her hand.