“Pass me the soy sauce?” Harold held out his hand and waited for Jasfoup to finish using it.
“Sorry, old boy. There's none left.” The demon held the bottle upside down. “You've already used the lot.”
“Me? That was a fresh bottle and it hasn't got to me yet. If anyone's used it all up, its you.”
“A few drops is all.” They both turned toward Gillian.
“There's no use looking at me. I didn't have and fooy to pour soy sauce on.” She cradled the mug in both hands. Hot blood took some getting used to but on a cold night it was the equivalent of chocolate to a vampire. It even had congealed bits resembling soggy marshmallows. She took another swallow, leaving a red moustache on her upper lip. “How would I digest soy, anyway?”
“She has a point.” Harold frowned, then looked under the table. Devious, Delirious and John were sitting in a circle, a pile of Chinese food cartons between them. The elder burped. “Pass the soy sauce again, would you? The house fried rice is a little dry.”