Enfys glances up with an uncharacteristically small and inscrutable smile; behind all the smoke and mirrors there is a still place in her that's so much more dangerous than the relentless energy around it, and his observation earns him a glimpse.

"You're my friend," she tells him, like it's precisely that simple when she knows full fucking well that it isn't. "And I wouldn't judge 'em by me, if I were you. Killing vampires isn't my business, doll, it's a thing sometimes I do because it presents itself as needing done. Here. You think 'I am a vampire and this is a Slayer' and I am thinking 'the Brucolac makes hilarious faces and my name means rainbow'."