[X] Appeal to similarity. You're both Catholics here, so surely you can work this out.
->[X] Write In
There isn't really a card to flash or a secret sign to make, and you doubt she'd really care if there was. You've lived for the better part of a century as a monster. A primordial beast threaded through human muscle. Covered in lambskin. You know bloodlust when you see it and it is pouring off of her. Thick. Vital. Visceral. Fun at gory expense. Something inside you, something prehistoric, shifts in sympathy. You slowly cock your head, nose turned up to better sample the air. Hammer-head planted between your feet. You face her. Your bulk between the mildly familiar would-be vampire and the recently met murder-nun.
Tension draws thin wires between you and her. You shoulders back, hands clasped. Her, half-hunched and more than half feral. The air still. The sounds of the city distant. The sounds of pained, muffled groaning close. The pressure swallows you up, crushes you down. The wires draw taut.
"Where have you been thus far Sister?"
The wires break.
"...Eh?"
"You said Pilgrimage. I didn't know there were many Catholic sites in England besides Canterbury I suppose? But then I was born in the South; Sardinia, Archdioceses of Cagliari. Haven't been up here much. Not for awhile."
Silence. The whimpering behind you rises to a pitched keen.
"Are you fucking seri-"
Crunch.
You set your mildly more bloodied hammer back between your feet. You don't look behind you. A cough. Fingers through your hair.
"Sorry..."
And now you just feel awkward.