The Brucolac all but melted into her side with relief. "Ah, sheaths, fuck me, I thought it was going to be something far worse—it wouldn't be the first time—ah, but..." But we're here, and I'm not going to tell you about those mishaps anyway, and...so on, he tried to communicate with a gesture, giving a rasping, abashed laugh. His free hand squeezing her hip.

"I promise not to panic," he murmured, patting down his tunic absently just to check if he'd a knife stowed about him (not considering the blade in his boot a weapon by any means; that was for emergencies), "either at the movie or the concept of a condom." No unnecessary knives found, he dropped his hand.