Joscelin suddenly realizes what she's babbling on about. "What? Christ, no. I didn't mean it like that. You're not his type, anyway." Jean-Claude seems to vastly prefer pretty young men over filthy young women, anyway. Figuring that it's a language barrier issue, Joscelin switches to fluent, if somewhat old-fashioned, French. "Jean-Claude owns a club, but they won't let you in looking like that. I am going to take you somewhere to bathe and clean yourself up a bit, and maybe get a bit more to eat. Then I will take you to Jean-Claude. He has all sorts at his club and having a half starved vampire attack the human clientele would make trouble for him. Trouble for him makes trouble for me, and if that happens I will kill you myself. Do you understand?"