milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Well, this is new. And that's OK! New is good. Unexpected is not, particularly, and that's why this particular young man's surprise at finding himself wandering strange corridors has quickly melted to suspicion, and then anger.

He schools himself out of it by the time he finds the stairs. He waits at the bottom of them, perfectly still apart from large, dark eyes that flit over the whole place, taking it all in with no expression on his face. Only the Window gets a second look, and when he's finished his surveillance he walks over to it and stands there, staring in mute wonder, one hand pressed to the glass.

He can investigate the room later. This is more interesting for now.

[OOC: Open all weekend! <3]

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"I'm not human," she repeats.

It's not that difficult a concept, is it?

'Then what are you?'

She looks human to him. He's never met a non-human before, and was not prepared today for that to possibly change.

"A vampire, of course," she says.

Really, what else could she be?

He tilts his head, clearly confused but not scared.

'How can you be a vampire, and a kid?'

This is asked after a pause.

'Are you going to stay that age forever?'

"No, of course not -- I will grow up," she says, smiling. "As will you, unless you do something inadvisable and die young."

She has pointy teeth in her smile -- not enough to be crude or threatening, but noticeable.

James has no fear of teeth, noticeable or otherwise. He's just curious about all of it.

'But how? Vampires are just supposed to be people who are bitten, and should be dead. They don't get old.'

Not in the books he's read, anyway.

"There are different kinds," she says, "but most of us are born that way. At least where I'm from."

'You're born only drinking blood?'

Well.

He has no opinion on that either way. If it is, it is.

"Yes," she says. "Our parents get it for us when we are still young."

'What happens if you eat something else?'

And more importantly-

'Do you kill people?'

"We don't eat anything else," she says. "And yes, some of us have killed people they drank from. We try not to, though. Live and let live. Let live to drink another day."

'I meant you.'

He doesn't care much about groups as a whole, not when he's talking to one person.

"I haven't killed anybody yet," she says. "I probably will."

Sounding rather unconcerned.

He is not concerned with her unconcern. It occurs to him a moment later that he should probably pretend to be scared or worried, but there doesn't seem to be much point.

'Are you stronger and faster than normal people? Do you think you'll be able to kill them?'

She doesn't look particularly fearsome.

"Yes," she says. "I don't suppose there's somebody here I can try that with?"

Not necessarily kill, but to show off her strength and speed.

'Depends. What would you do to them?'

He looks around for a suitable candidate, and sees many. There's a lot of kids in here, and he doesn't care which one she might choose.

"The usual," she says, shrugging. "Charm them, lead them astray, jump them, pin them down, drink, and then muddle their mind so they hardly remember."

At least that's what she has been taught. She never did it all on her own.

'Choose someone then. I won't tell.'

He'd volunteer if she hadn't said charm, or muddle their mind. No one's messing with his mind.

She smiles at him. "Not one of the kids," she says. "That's unfair. We'd rather not drink from human kids."

Rather not, may be the operative term.

'There's adults too,' he says, and his voice takes on just a hint of challenge.

'Or are they too much for you?'

"No," she says flatly. "How about the gentleman in the booth over there?"

'Go on then.'

He slides on to the arm of a nearby armchair, and looks ready to be entertained.

'I'll watch.'

She gets up, and wanders over, sitting in the booth dangling her legs and talking to the man for a bit.

He tells her something, and she nods earnestly. Then, she beckons at him, and he leans over while she kneels up on the upholstered bench to whisper something into his ear.

It takes a while, and then he laughs, and she giggles at him. She puts a kiss to his cheek, then slides out of the booth and comes skipping back to Jim. She smiles at him, and licks her lips. They are still stained with blood on the inside, and there's some left on her right fang, until her tongue wipes it off.

Interesting.

'You didn't even take him somewhere out of the way of other people. What are you going to do if he complains?'

Or will he really not remember any of it?

"He won't," she says. "I realised he was guilty. Of something. Guilty enough not to complain. But he might not have realised what happened, and his memory is likely a bit muddled."