Oh, he had audacity. Ishmael had never felt less sated from the blood; Monty had sparked another appetite in him entirely, and had the gall to be getting to his feet before their fun had even had the opportunity to start.

Ishmael watched him, trying not to look put out. He couldn’t get everything he wanted just like that, he supposed – but he did expect to get whatever he wanted, usually.

“An obligation?” Ishmael asked, with an eyebrow raised; he hoped it was something dull and terrible and unrewarding. “Next time, Monty,” Ishmael added, “don’t make plans for after.”

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