She almost looks sheepish at that, shrugging one shoulder. "It might be a thing at the Academy, which is where I met most of the other witches I knew. Some of the voodoo ladies had gentleman they worked with, and before the Academy I didn't know many. I was living in New Orleans but I come from on of the parishes outside the city and trust me. If you're a witch there, you don't talk about it or you... well, you're definitely going to deal with a stake and fire. Trust me."

Her tones darken as she talks about that, still remembering the feel of the fire on her skin quite acutely.

That anger though fades a bit, visibly rocking back at that admission of his age. Blinking at him, knowing that it isn't something she'll see, that she can just suddenly have a veil drop and see a thousand years in that boyish face. Even if, being honest, she's fairly certain she can see it in his eyes.

"I'm sorry for your loss, and for theirs," she says, barely more than a murmur but no less heartfelt for it. "Is that... you were burned too?" It's a standard way for witches, but she's never heard of it for vampires. But then who believes the legends and myths. So many were the truth mingled lies. Some hilarious. Some terrifying, more so than the people they're made up about.