The Nightcap was a kid at Christmas. It giggled and grunted as it dragged Jules along, at times trying to bounce, to skip, and feel the woman reel and recoil against the motion. It was all a game, really, seeing how people reacted. All games ought to have rewards, too: whatever was on Jules' person was going to be Nightcap's.

With a groan, it heaved her forward in the dark, not caring where they were or where she landed, sighing brightly as it dusted its hands.

"Shhh." It relished the loud click of its heels as it slowly paced around her, leaning forward, letting Regina's hair graze Jules' face. "Shhh, sh. Poor thing." It tsked.

From a knuckle on its right hand, a new needle slid out slowly, snagging only briefly at the tatters of torn glove and dripping with something that smelled too acidic to simply be blood.