Maybe she gets her rocks off a little.
“Why do you do this, Veronica?” Maeve asked.
Rinsing the blood from her claws in a stream of cold cave water, the alley creature didn’t make eye contact. “Why do I do what? Help people?” she countered. “I was just passing by. I don’t get my rocks off clawing dudes up.”
Though I don’t hate it, she mused.
“No!” the blue gargoyle pressed, her arms crossed over her chest as if huddling from the cold and damp of the cave. “Why do you go out? You do it all the time.”
Veronica sat on a rock, unzipping her tight leather pants. Oddly, the zipper ran down the outside of her leg, to accommodate her large hooves, which would be too big to fit down a normal pantleg. “We’ve talked about this,” she smiled. “I can’t just always stay in here. I’m not like you. I wish I was.”
No I don’t, she thought.
“No you don’t,” Maeve echoed sadly. “Why do you keep coming back?”
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