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Because even vampires do occasionally sleep in their undies, and the mental image jumped me there. Would mainly have had some bearing on their initial reactions, really.

In fact, nothing interrupted. "Well, dang. Thanks, Mr Government!" was Malcolm's reply as he pocketed his share of the money with a sheepish grin and something resembling an awkward bow, and hers went similarly, with an added "And don't you worry, your secret is safe with us!" before they made to leave. ("Really though, Malc, I told you you should have carried them!" - "And I told you my shoulder hurts, and besides, I'm not exactly your escort either." - "Jerk.) Anyway, thanks again, Mr, and a nice evening to you, and if you need anything, you have the number. Walter's shift tonight, though, so don't expect too much in the way of assistance there, yes?" And with that, and a wink, they were already off, Malcolm bitching about running late the whole damn way down the corridor. Hasty times, these were.

As for the packages, they looked rather immensely unassuming, though the scent of rotten meat did clearly emanate from them. There was little else on the corridor, unless one were to count a random dead roach and several stains on the run-on carpet as noteworthy sights.