“Rather an-,” he searched frantically for a less insulting word than ‘uninspired’ and finally had to settle on “-unpleasant way to die, don’t you think?”
“Well, yes.” She paused, tapping the nail gun against her thigh thoughtfully, “But that’s rather the point, don’t you think?”
“I thought you were trying to get me to talk, not bleed to death.” Because, truthfully, he didn’t think that nailing someone to an inverted cross -not matter how appropriate the cliché- was at all an effective method of coercion. “You do realize I’ll most likely pass out when all the blood -well what’s left of it- rushes to my head?”
“Oh. Hmm,” she blinked, “Hadn’t thought of that actually.”
“More of a thematic thing then?” He was getting better at not flinching as she gestured at the cross with the nailgun. Some people just shouldn’t talk with their hands.
“You’re a vampire, I thought it was ironic.” Her attention was focused on the cross now, which was somewhat of a relief. “This sort of sucks though, I mean, you know how long it took me to find someone who’d make silver nails?”
“Those are for werewolves.”
“Silver works on werewolves; crosses and garlic work on vampires. Plus, I’m not a vampire.”