♠ | 030 | Spam

[lastrat]

[The best part about being a vampire - besides the strength and the speed and the senses in general, anyway - is having a little switch in your brain. When your emotions get to be too much - intensified as they are - all you have to do is close your eyes and look inward and flick it to off.

Once, he was going to be married. Once, he was going to have a happy life, even if it was as a vampire. Some things you don't survive, James had always known that. He hadn't always known about vampires, or that they're almost impossible to beat, or that if you die with their blood in your veins, you can wake up from multiple gunshot wounds.

Of course, once he hadn't known that his fiance was a witch, either, but eventually he always learns the important things. There's a silver ring on his left ring finger that she blessed, or magicked, or whatever the hell the proper verb is, that lets him walk in the daylight without burning up. He almost threw it away when she died, thought about burning up beside her - but his sense of self preservation runs deep. And it led him to his humanity switch. Turning it off was the easiest thing in the world.

Now, he doesn't miss her. Now, he doesn't grieve her. Now, he doesn't care about anything except hunger.

And right now, he's hungry.]

(ooc: Super duper affected, sorry for all these backdated posts. He's a vampire from the Vampire Diaries canon, and he's a douchebag because he just don't give a fuck. Picture Elena when she was an inmate but. possibly worse because she's nicer than him on any given day anyway. He's out looking for blood, so any volunteers totally welcomed!)

Comments

[lastrat]

[He smiles at her blush: this was what he did long before he grew retractable fangs. Now, there's just a new motivation.

He takes her hand and shakes, stepping closer and covering it with his other hand.]

James. Lovely to meet you, Debra.

[If he still had all his powers, he'd compel her to stand very still and not scream. Without compulsion, he'll have to do things the old fashioned way.]

[fuckton]

Nice to meet you too, James.

[The smile is returned and it grows even a bit bigger, and there isn't a single sign of fear in her. She's not in any position to defend herself and even if she was, she lacks the skills to do it.

So, entirely unaware that she's being hunted, Deb just asks quietly:]

Have you been here long?

[lastrat]

[There are days - plenty of them, actually - when he likes his prey fearful. Sometimes, he just wants an easy meal. Even eating can get boring. He keeps his hands on hers, and nods.]

Oh, long enough, I'd say. You get used to the Barge. I'd say it's not that much different from any other ship, but that would be a lie.

[And he wouldn't want to lie to her. It takes a lot of will power to keep his smile from turning sardonic. He can hear her pulse point in her throat, and he wants it to quicken.]

[fuckton]

[Well, the hands on hers have been there for too long, and she doesn't know how she feels about it, other than the fact that she quite seriously wants to pull away. She's considering it, deeply, and her smile drops and then forms a barely perceivable frown.]

I know. It's here to help people who need it.

[Deb believes that she's a warden right now, and a helper as well.]

[lastrat]

[The frown flickers into being, and he decides he's played enough.]

It is. And as it happens, I could use some help.

[He pulls her toward him, and all at once his face changes, from human, casual, interested - to fangs, red tinged eyes, dark veins surrounding them.]

[fuckton]

[He wants her to be scared, and she is. Her eyes go wide and her pulse rushes below her skin as screams quickly, her hand pressing against his chest as if it would give her some sort of purchase on him, give her some kind of chance to get out of there!]

[lastrat]

[Fear has it's own kind of taste, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't love it. He does love it, he loves it best - better than a blood bag, better than an animal - human fear is sweeter than all of it. He ignores the hand on his chest, grabbing a fistful of her hair and pulling her head to the side. When he opens his mouth, his canines stretch down.]

Try not to scream. This will only hurt a bit.

[He bites; he drinks. He doesn't drain her dry, though it's tempting. To gorge and gorge and gorge. But he's fairly certain she wouldn't look remotely as pretty during the death toll, and that would be a shame.

When he's done, he lets her drop, just lets go of her and cocks his head, listening for her heartbeat. She'll probably live. She'll probably be fine, eventually. He's not particularly bothered either way.

Pressing his fingers against his head in a sarcastically thankful gesture, Bond licks his lips clean, and turns to be on his way.]