Though practically negligible, Fukawa feels a wash of relief come over her. If he'd claimed to feel ill, started showing the slightest sign of abnormality? She wouldn't have anywhere to run.

And that would be because?

"Oh, that p-part's a real laugh. Just a second."

She scuttles in to whisk the note from the nightstand, only to hurry back to the end of the bed. Normally she'd force someone else to read it, lest anyone laugh at her stutter, but there's no one to spare her the indignity now.

"G-good morning and welcome, blah blah blah, th-the door will open easily if you offer a bit of b-b-blood." She pauses to glance up, catch his reaction. "M-More than a few drops but not enough to be a 'serious' wound. Whatever that means. A handprint's w-worth will do, it only needs to c-come from one of you.

"Sincerely," she holds, her sneer begetting a shiver of derision. "The Mayor."