Bjørn paused his rummaging to watch the spectacle unfold before him. His expression was unreadable as he watched Joe go through seemingly twenty stages of grief within the blink of en eye. For a brief moment he considered pacifying the killer, if only to save both of them from anger’s potential consequences. He decided against subjecting his childe to powers—powers he’d yet to explain existed.
Instead, he took a deep breath and leaned sideways to better see the contents of the backpack. In doing so, he managed to fish out one of the blood bags he’d brought. It still felt cool to the touch, which was a relief. Spoiled blood wouldn’t do the other any good.
“You don’t have to kill at all,” he answered, holding back the if you don’t want to.
Feeding on humans could lead to a variety of problems. Least of all turning them into vampires it would seem, you ******* dweeb, his brain privately interjected at its own expense. Not all mortals were good people however, but now was certainly not the time to bring up moral relativism. He eyed Joe, wondering what kind of man he was—and what had led him down the path of a killer as opposed to another.
Bjørn set the vinyl sachet onto the table and slid it across to his childe. It was with great interest that he watched the man’s reaction—both to it and his accompanying command: “Drink.”
Instead, he took a deep breath and leaned sideways to better see the contents of the backpack. In doing so, he managed to fish out one of the blood bags he’d brought. It still felt cool to the touch, which was a relief. Spoiled blood wouldn’t do the other any good.
“You don’t have to kill at all,” he answered, holding back the if you don’t want to.
Feeding on humans could lead to a variety of problems. Least of all turning them into vampires it would seem, you ******* dweeb, his brain privately interjected at its own expense. Not all mortals were good people however, but now was certainly not the time to bring up moral relativism. He eyed Joe, wondering what kind of man he was—and what had led him down the path of a killer as opposed to another.
Bjørn set the vinyl sachet onto the table and slid it across to his childe. It was with great interest that he watched the man’s reaction—both to it and his accompanying command: “Drink.”
