Rin
This undead pirate is starting to get on my nerves. Maybe I should just tell Sakura about him; pretty sure her hatred for the undead spans past vampires, Rin thought as the Pirate Skeleton had the nerve to mock her pose.
"We let you on this boat and then you ask us for liquor? You have some nerve, you know that," Rin said, taking a step to put herself between Joe and the skeleton. "Of course we don't have liquor; he rented this boat. You should show a bit more gratitude for your rescuers, you know."
Forest
The room now reeked of blood, cordite, sulfur, and semen.
The ancient teenager looked at the four unconscious poison peddlers lying on a lump on the floor. Each of the front of their pants sported a wet spot, but other than that and a few bruises they were pretty much unmarked. They'd awaken a little woozy; she'd made sure to take enough blood to weaken them and make them more compliant.
It was also the best meal she had since Gadreel in the dressing room, except no where near as enjoyable.
There was nothing sacred in this blood taking; it wasn't given freely and Forest had taken it in vengeance. She had done it out of spite. They had wanted to get off with her so she just gave them their wish, just not in the way they were imagining.
She kicked Spit-Roast Guy in the gut out of spite, more of a light tap and he grunted in his sleep. In her feeding she managed to get the combination of the safe they had here to store their cash. The drugs she'd give to the cops, but she was going to keep some cash to use as capitol for her club.
She stretched, any trace of gunshot wounds completely healed, and grabbed the shot gun. It hadn't been fired and between the lot of them there was still enough ammo to fill a clip and have a spare in one of the pistols. It seem like they favored .40 Glocks. She heard her student, Quinn Frost, genius dhampire and "Dear Detective", snort in her head before he ran down the reasons why a .9mm Glock was better than the .40. Mainly due to the fact that the .40 and .45 models could have defects that were very dangerous for the shooter, defects that for some reason the .9mm didn't have.
There was the matter of the person doing the ultra-violence upstairs. If they were a cop or vigilante, like her, she didn't want to get into a confrontation. So, she tied up the four idiots using their suit jackets and debated calling out.
"Works with bears," she muttered to herself before shouting, "Hey, you having a bit of a party upstairs, can you hear me?"