No, I wasn't bitten, I was scratched. His name was Blaine. Not quite Barbara, but starts with a B. He was a real bastard— another B word.

[Is it weird she kind of believes the thing even while she's revolted? Most animals have a self-preservationary instinct, and it seems to understand that breaking the rules would end poorly, no matter how many teeth it's got.]

It's okay if you hunt animals, I think, as long as you're keeping it under the radar. Not everybody would be as open-minded as Tony or me. [She pauses, squinting at the screen.] But I'm betting you already know that.

If I brought you brains, animal brains, how often would you need those and how much? I assume you're already eating some when you hunt.