The man is sprawled, a gore-drenched corpse. The she stands waiting, facing 
him, facing the stairs. She opens her mouth a bit, but makes no show of baring 
her teeth as Raman descends the stairs, stopping just short of the landing. The 
she advances, meets him nose-to-nose, sniffing, sniffing him all over, all over 
his face. Raman sniffs at her too. Her scent is unlike anything he’s smelled
before, musky and powerful, and... Different. Strange, exotic, incredibly and
overpoweringly female. It reaches right into his groin, clenching, squeezing, 
gripping him with excitement. Only as several more moments pass does he 
notice the new blood matting the fur on the she’s right shoulder and foreleg.
This is evidence of the wound she took charging the man with the shotgun. Why 
did she do that? Raman wonders about it, in addition to everything else 
afflicting his brain.