Vampires. How had Anselm managed to not recognize vampires? It wasn't the first run-in he'd had with them over the centuries. This wasn't even the strangest. It /would/ be the one that worried him because he'd let himself grow lax.
A hellhound, also another surprise. He understood Whisper, and because the other man did Anselm had to be on guard against what /he/ might turn out to be. Telling a hellhound to shake hands was a gutsy move from Anselm's few experiences with the creatures.
Rather than force the animal to offer a paw, Anselm gave Whisper the same greeting he would any other intelligent creature. He bowed slightly from the waist, his eyes still on Whisper's, and gave the name he rarely used in a low voice. "Hello. Anselm Giberti."
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