She nodded sadly. "Yes. I am being like them." She looked over her shoulder in the direction of the bedroom, almost involuntarily, then realized she'd done it and went to sit on the couch near Evelyn, pulling her feet up beneath her and nestling into her oversized shirt. "Ian is being right. Colin is eventually getting well, I am seeing him looking better." She looked at the carpet, then away when she realized it was saturated with blood; her face was pale.
She had no idea what to say to a brand-new ghoul. She tried to dredge up what her first questions had been, but the situation had been too different. Maybe she could allay some of the woman's fears, and give herself something to do that wouldn't involve having screaming histrionics in the sitting room. "Ian is being a good man," she said suddenly. Not graceful, but Evelyn would hardly care if she had her game face on tonight. "He is not to be hurting you, or anybody else. You are not needing to worry." She tried to think of a way to make it all seem less daunting to the poor girl. Finally she tried, without the faintest idea whether it would help, "Is not being monster. We are still being people, just... is like being sick." She held out a hand, hesitantly, for Evelyn; Colin and Ian were cold, true, but unlike most Kindred Maeve knew she had warmth and color in her skin, even a heartbeat now and then. With a sudden, morbid ghost of humor, she said, "Do not worry. Is not catching."