It's not the fur or the fangs that make you a monster, not always. Sometimes, it's just where you draw the line.

You smell of other peoples blood, ma petite. It was no one you know. -Jean Claude and Anita

[T]hese last few days where I've moped around damn near depressed for real, because of people who do not exist. Not really. I can buy them Christmas presents, but there is no way to send them. Sometimes I feel like I should be able to walk into the next room and there they will be, but they won't. These people do not exisit as flesh and blood, but there are different kinds of reality, and there are days when imagination feels very, very real.

He looked less handsome without the smile and glow in his eyes, but he also seemed more real. Being real will get me into trouble faster than any amount of charm.

Goddess” he said. Her voice floated to us. Yes, Child.” Will I see you again?” Just her voice now, young and old at the same time. “In the face of every woman you meet

I have no personal stake in these people, Jean-Claude, but they are people. Good, bad, or indifferent, they are alive, and no one has the right to just arbitrarily snuff them out.” "So it is the sanctity of life you cling to?" I nodded. “That and the fact that every human being is special. Every death is a loss of something precious and irreplaceable.

Put any woman in an area run mostly by men and rumors will fly. Unless you make it very clear that you are off limits, there is also a certain competitiveness that sets in. Some men are either trying to run you out of town or get into your pants. They don't seem to know any other way to deal with a woman. If you're not a sexual object, you're a threat.