"Oh, good," he said, inspecting the bag and the vial he'd managed to scoop up. String, some kind of pamphlet, what looked like a first aid kit (he was sure he'd need that sooner or later), a device that when switched on shone a bright red dot against his grey palm.

"I'm not really interested in fighting you either." It wasn't like he couldn't -- he ran his tongue over his sharpened fangs -- but there was no reason to, really, not if she wasn't going to attack first.

"Smart of you, to wait until the initial rush is over."