The question was fair. Of course this guy had no reason to trust Lancaster. Why should he? The story was a tall one, and even if he were to tell the guy that he found it physically impossible to lie -- a remnant from his time as a vampire -- what good would it do? That, too, would sound like a lie, an excuse, a tall story to cover his own tracks.
”If you were a vampire I’d tell you to read my memories, and you’d see. If you were that kind of vampire. I could tell you to shoot me and watch as I don’t heal. As I bleed, and will need stitches. Would die, if you shot me in the right place. Though I’d really prefer not to die,” he said, spreading his hands, palms up.
”Maybe, instead, consider this. Why would I go around randomly attacking people without wearing a mask? Why would I let them see my face only to then come back to work in a public place where I’d easily be found? Wouldn’t I try to cover my tracks a little better?” hhe asked. This, too, could be explained. A crazy person wouldn’t cover their tracks at all. But Lancaster hoped that, by sitting here and having a reasonable, adult conversation, that his sanity wouldn’t be in question.
Though, Lancaster started to question himself. Why would he stay here? And why should he continue to show his face in public? This cure had turned out to be more of a curse than vampirism itself had been; he should run, he should hide. But he didn’t have it in him to run and hide. Some might call it brave. Right now, Lancaster was questioning his own stupidity.
”If you were a vampire I’d tell you to read my memories, and you’d see. If you were that kind of vampire. I could tell you to shoot me and watch as I don’t heal. As I bleed, and will need stitches. Would die, if you shot me in the right place. Though I’d really prefer not to die,” he said, spreading his hands, palms up.
”Maybe, instead, consider this. Why would I go around randomly attacking people without wearing a mask? Why would I let them see my face only to then come back to work in a public place where I’d easily be found? Wouldn’t I try to cover my tracks a little better?” hhe asked. This, too, could be explained. A crazy person wouldn’t cover their tracks at all. But Lancaster hoped that, by sitting here and having a reasonable, adult conversation, that his sanity wouldn’t be in question.
Though, Lancaster started to question himself. Why would he stay here? And why should he continue to show his face in public? This cure had turned out to be more of a curse than vampirism itself had been; he should run, he should hide. But he didn’t have it in him to run and hide. Some might call it brave. Right now, Lancaster was questioning his own stupidity.
