Back at the warehouse, she let the elf media-girl and dwarf camera-guy 
escape, but she had briefly considered slaughtering them both just because they 
were there. Instinct seemed to demand it, telling her to kill them, tear them apart, sate 
herself on their meat. She felt the moon burning into her, reaching down into 
her predator’s soul. She resisted because she did not like that, did not like
what she felt, did not like it at all.