She stiffens, her hands pausing in their task. More comfortable (what a horrible thought) around him she might be, but having a vampire's mouth against her neck is a little too much.

Intending her no harm or not.

"Yes," she says, after a moment, and maybe there is something akin to wryness tinting her tone of voice, along with the stiffness. "I'll admit it's rather amazing of me that despite you doing stuff like that, I agree to get you food."

Maybe she is insane. Helping vampires takes care of quite a bit of a psychopath's quota for antisocial behavior, after all. And she doesn't want to think about his lips against her neck.