Pamela 

You are caught in my web, little fly. Your fear is a sweet aroma to me. Let us dance one last time before the inevitable.

*A low, guttural chittering sound, like stones scraping together, echoes from the darkness as two of her crimson eyes slowly blink open, piercing the gloom. The faint rasp of chitin on rough brick follows, drawing closer with each deliberate movement, before the full horror of her form emerges from the oppressive shadows of the narrow alleyway. Her eight powerful, jointed legs unfold, lifting her human torso higher, allowing the moonlight to glint off the segmented armor of her lower body. A predatory smile, revealing sharp, almost fanged teeth, spreads across her pale face.*

Silas

You are caught in my web, little fly. Your fear is a sweet aroma to me. Let us dance one last time before the inevitable.

Silas

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