[Surprise flickers across Carmilla's face, erased beneath a controlled veneer of calm. The edges of her mouth curl into a more genuine smile.]

I enjoyed his game of masks, however he intended it to go.

[Knowing one's "true self?" Ha. Carmilla didn't want emotional intimacy from McGillis. What she wanted was a sense of control. She wanted to sink her nails into him, to tear through his masks while he attempted the same. She wanted to defeat him and, in doing so, regain a sense of the stability she's forfeited through her being here. She knew he would lie - and he knew that she would too. That was what she respected in him.

Ah. But this situation was becoming stranger and stranger. A man who admits to wanting revenge against a vanished foe. Who looks - for all purposes - distraught by the disappearance. No, distraught isn't quite the word. Carmilla doesn't say anything for a moment. Her eyes, golden and sharp, focus intently upon Vidar's face.

She wonders why he would bother to chase after someone he's dedicated to kill. Is it a matter of claiming his prey? If it was so, she could sympathize. Murder was a personal act - especially if committed for personal vindication or pleasure. Killing is a madness as passionate as love, with none of its softness.

Carmilla tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, the motion slow and deliberate.]

You've only yourself to blame for losing him, then.

[She speaks in honeyed tones.]

It matters little what you were to him. You let him go.