"I suppose there is little argument I can give to that," Francis concedes, not without some humour, "save that vampyrs are not known to be much swayed by conversation."

It is strange, he reflects, to hear laughter in this place. He wonders how long it has been since there was simple merriment on these stairs, if there has ever been any at all. It is not a place that lends itself much to joking. Part of him feels it is almost profane, like dancing in church; a greater part of him just welcomes that warm, human sound. The darkness is beginning to feel closer than he likes, the air cold around them.