As he laid her down gently on a cot, the healer, a wizened woman with a knowing gaze, looked at him with a mix of curiosity and caution. "Another one from the inn, is she?" she asked, her voice a soft murmur.
Alaric only nodded. "Yes," he said, his tone flat. "See that she's well cared for."
The healer's eyes narrowed. "You know, I've seen enough to know what you are. Yet you keep coming here, bringing these poor souls."
Alaric met her gaze without flinching. "I may be a vampire," he said, "but that does not mean I lack standards. This city is infested with darkness—I simply choose to clean up the filth when it serves me."
The healer regarded him in silence for a moment, then gave a small nod. "Very well. I'll see to her."
Alaric took a step back, his gaze lingering on the girl as she lay motionless, her chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. His fingers twitched with the residual hunger left unsated, but he ignored it, tightening his gloves instead.
