[The Rusty Dagger]

"You too, eh? Well they were annoying until I found out they burn really nice. Smell terrible, though." the fledgeling said, turing her gaze to their captive. "Oh well, I guess as long as we have the one..." she said with a rather fangy grin.

Stepping fully into the room, Ghoul looked around for a place to start slowly, carefully laying down the somewhat worrying number of knives she had strapped to her armor. Out of reach of the captive, of course, but fully within her ability to see what was going on. Holding one particularly broad blade up to the light to inspect it's edge, the muse pulled a small stone from her pocket and began running it with slow deliberation along the edge and down the length of the blade. "So, how are we doing this? Are you going to have a nice chat or do I get to be, ah... 'Creative?'" she asked, hoping that her sire would capitalize on the atmosphere that the muse was trying to create. In reality, if she actually wanted to get on with the dirty work, she would have manifested her claws. Still, there was something to be said about forcing a person to watch as one sharpened what appeared to be the intended instrument of their demise.