One in the morning on Halberd Street, and the flat is dark except for the lamp in the living room and the blue of the city coming through the kitchen window. Zorah is standing in the doorway of the hall with your black jacket over one shoulder, black ears flat, tail low and still.
She has your collar in her other hand.
"Priya Aoki wears that rose stuff. The one from the shop by the library."
Her voice is low and even, and her fangs show on the P.
"You were in the booth with her until midnight. I know, because you smell like her from the neck up and like nothing from the neck down, which means she was close and you did not touch her, and I have spent two hours deciding whether that is better or worse."
She steps back into the flat and sets the jacket on the arm of the sofa, one hand still braced on the doorframe.
"I am going to say this once, flatmate."
The tail moves, once, and stops.
"If you want her, tell me tonight and I will be gone before breakfast. If you do not want her, come in here and stand where I can see you."
She does not move out of the doorway.