He positioned himself so that his back was to the crowd passing by, making what he was about to do for her eyes only. Watching her, carefully, he reached out to pick up the piece of silver she held out for him. As soon as his skin touched the metal, there was a hissing sizzle, steam rising up from his hand. It grew as he took the coin and held it in his closed fist, little wisps of steam wafting upward, joined by flakes of dead flesh that was being burned off.

When he opened his hand and held the coin back out to her, there was a raw, seared spot in his flesh, bone starting to show through, the coin continuing to sizzle and burn at him as it sat there. "I would advise you to always carry some on you, Lady. Particularly with the way this world seems to pick at one's mind and emotions."

It hurt, of course. Burning always hurt, but Vlad was used to pain. He'd become accustomed to it before he'd become a man, let alone what he was now. But the sting and the whining tone of the silver he could hear in his mind helped dull those other senses of his. He couldn't hear her heartbeat as clearly, couldn't taste her blood under her skin.