Putting fingertips to temples, as mated violins tangled and surged in her headphones, Bett pursed amaranthine lips, and let her body sway with the music.
Blue-eyed Moira, blinking fitfully in the florescent light like a crepuscular bat, gasped and jerked her head. “He’s here,” she said, exaggerating the words, as Bett slid the headphones off her ears.
“Vlad?” Bett breathed. A chill walked fingers down her spine, and Bett shivered, as a tall, lean man, with a rather ordinary face, rapped his knuckles against the window.
“Hello again,” he said, fangs glistening as he smiled. “Invite me in.”
(Written for The Prediction, 2nd entry. Challenge words: ordinary, crepuscular, violin)