When Damsel sees her for the first time, the first thing she notices is how unruffled she is by Damsel's words, manner of speech, and harsh words towards her and the Camarilla.

She still continues to talk to Damsel, and a couple of nights later solves the problem with the epidemic that has spread throughout Downtown LA.

Damsel was grateful, and maybe she did warm up a bit to her, but not everything could be erased by a few good deeds.

For example, that smile that made Damsel itch. It was damn hard to resist that smile, almost impossible, if Damsel hadn't noticed that the smile hardly ever reached her eyes.

So yes, Damsel respects her, but trust isn't gained so easily.

Still, she keeps showing up at the Last Round, talking to Jack down there, occasionally checking up on her on the second floor of the bar.

And then everything goes to hell. Well... as always.

The Blood Hunt on Nines is cancelled, one is announced on her, the anarchs urgently move to a small hotel Isaac has allocated for them in Hollywood. Nines is battered by the werewolf, she in theory escaped from the other werewolf too and also a crowd of kindred, but still wears that usual grin even after hours when LA finally shakes with the explosion.

The Venture Tower's penthouse rises into the air and involuntarily Damsel feels uneasy.

Did she survive? Damsel is sure she did, but she wants to know, not just guess.

But Nines won't let her go even for a walk, and she won't let herself either, instead staying at the second floor of the hotel and going to the closed bar to get a bottle of whiskey because she needs it.

The glass in her hand is barely cold, but who cares, really.

Damsel clicks her tongue in irritation and takes a sip, leaning her back against the bar counter, her gaze still focused on the burning tower through the glass window. The sun will rise soon.

She shudders.

Nines is in the other room, Skelter and others check the perimeter. The whole building was empty with only some members of anarchs so the bar was empty, and Damsel was left to drink in complete solitude.

She takes a sip, trying to calm the aching feeling in her chest, to drown it out with alcohol, but she already knows it won't help.

When did Damsel get so attached to this idiot?

Damsel licks her lips. She thinks absently that she's starting to get thirsty, and then...

Footsteps on the stairs.

Damsel, of course, recognizes them. The pace, the sound of heels. She hates that she can tell if this was her or someone else by footsteps, but she simply can't keep the grin - crooked, but relieved - from stretching her lips.