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“I should not have consented to this,” grumped Carmilla. “I’m a countess! I’m a centuries old vampire! I’m a predator of the night!”
“Which is exactly why we need this little ruse in the first place,” Laura reminded her. “Luckily one of us can cross moving water under her own power.”
“While the other one is reduced to being pushed in a chair like an invalid,” Carmilla muttered.
“It’s one ferry ride! Just think of it as a Barbara Gordon cosplay?”
“Haven’t you got enough gingers in your life?” Carmilla countered. “Anyway, I get one pitying look and I’m making the Demeter look like Dracula had afternoon tea.”
“A friendly reminder that we are here to investigate a mysterious death, not cause more of them,” Laura whispered. An idea struck her. “We could brainstorm some really cool ways you got injured! Like somebody went full Bane on you in an underground fighting ring! Or you pushed me out of the way of an out-of-control eighteen-wheeler!”
Carmilla’s lips quirked up into a smile as she leaned left into Laura’s side. “Thought we were past the point in our relationship when you were telling yourself lies about my heroism, creampuff.”
Laura let herself smile as well; if they were at pet names, then whatever ill mood had possessed Carmilla had faded. “I’m a reporter, babe - luckily for me, they turned out to be the truth.”
“Mm.” Carmilla’s smile widened, and softened, and her eyes closed as she nuzzled her cheek against Laura’s ribcage. “Thought I was the lucky one, but alright.”