Lenore, of course, had no idea who this cursed Saint Germain was, but if they had anything to do with whatever-the-hell had just happened, Trevor might be on to something, with those threats of his. Also, he was right. She would have been happy to have argued semantics as well under any other circumstance...

"Oh, for the love of—" she was going to have to do this herself, apparently. Up until now, he had been the one trying to make sure she survived, so... it was only right to return the favour, wasn't it?

Lenore moved to his side, draping one of his hulking arms around her slender shoulders, intending to drag him more than support if he was going to be dead weight. With her being so close, the sweet flowery oils that she clearly bathed in regularly probably wafted to overwhelm his senses.

"Do I seem like the sort who goes camping to you?"