[ Those bright silver eyes, uncanny and hard for her to read. What's she supposed to take from that shine? Sympathy or blood thirst? The earnest interest of another person or the lofty curiosity of an immortal? ]

Warn me? Sure. That would've been polite. And then I could've warned you.

[ She's moving the goalposts. That's her own selfishness, wanting to hang onto a grudge in the face of an explanation. But it makes her feel better, more like she's in control of the argument, on the stable ground of "righteous indignation" instead of "triggered." ]

Word to wise, mate, since apparently you haven't picked it up from the scene yourself: you shouldn't just snort whatever a stranger gives you at a party. You don't know what kind of shit's in there.