This may be a mistake, but no greater mistake than leaving Flint at her back would have been. The pair of them had been part of a great dance, swept up and whirling in a course of events which they both tried to lead and yet which too often remained well out of their control. It was a dance during which they had many times stepped on one another's toes.

Very well then. If Max is to misstep, she will at least make her stumbles new ones.

There is only a brief pause, a moment where in she looks up at the vampire in all his imposing indignation. Then she squares her shoulders, tilts her head, purses her lips.

"An oversight, I assure you. One which ought to have been corrected long ago. Now it seems may be an opportunity to right that old mistake. And, perhaps, others."