It wasn't long before Béatrix arrived at The Tortuga. The vampire guards at the door nodded as she walked in and the taller one spoke up. "Mornin' Madame de la Croix, Sir Alistair just went in the back room."

"Thank you, Vincent." she said with a smile, trying her best not to sound cold and harsh; He wasn't the reason for her ire, after all. Trixy walked passed the bar, taking in the scent of fresh blood, alcohol, and plastic. She winced, Alistair resorting to bagged blood was a good indicator of just the mood he was in. Without a second thought, Trixy unsheathed her dagger and cut a gash deep into her palm. Dark blood oozed from the wound as she held it above a red wine goblet. Béatrix put her dagger back against her thigh and walked towards the back room, Maria's bloodied dress in one hand and her own personal offering in the other.

Trixy leaned her shoulder against the door frame and watched Alistair as he rummaged through clothing. He turned to face her, worry and agitation marring his handsome face. Béatrix looked towards the floor as she walked toward him, clutching the dress in her fist. She held out the goblet of her blood to him "I can't have you drinking bagged blood on a night like tonight, plus, I know you've always wanted to try me." she said with a flirtatious smile, but the humor fell flat even to her own ears. 

Béatrix looked down at the dress again and frowned. "I tried, the false trail, I just..." her Old French accent thickly coated her words before she looked up at him. For the first time in a long time, the blue in her eyes wasn't harsh in any way, it was soft and warm and inviting as she prepared to offer him three words that she hadn't said in centuries. 

"I..."

For the first time in over 500 years, Béatrix de la Croix nervously trembled before a man.