..and baby, I'm the walking dead!

[scribblerrigby]

Malcolm Finley hadn’t eaten for days.

Well, that wasn’t quite true. He’d gone through the motions during a dinner with his family, and had had some Molsons and a large pizza the other day at Noah’s. In the end, though – and to his utter annoyance - he was still a vampire. And vampires weren’t made for drunken pizza parties.

He hated hunting. He tried to avoid it as much as possible, instead leeching off of contraband blood bags, Marlene’s sporadic supply of cow’s blood, and the occasional willing donor- anything to avoid hurting and potentially killing people. But sometimes these things couldn’t be avoided, especially when he was so hungry and unfocused that he was barely able to string a sentence together. In spite of his mental fuzziness, however, his senses remained as sharp as ever. Everything was clear and bright; everyone’s heartbeats were sharp and tantalizing. Not that there were many heartbeats outside at the time; the only one around was an employee of the nearby diner, standing with her back against its large window, smoking a cigarette. Fin could see that they’d seated most of their customers near that window, too. So much for that.

Not that you were going to kill her anyway. Right, Malcolm? Just a taste! A harmless little taste – she won’t even feel a thing. She wouldn’t remember a thing either if you do your job right. Restraint, right? Ha-ha. Right?

So far, he’d only managed to catch a stray cat and a face full of pepper spray. C’est la mort.

Oh, god.

He strode with a forced casual step down the street, fingering his knife, hugging the shadows. His normally blue eyes were bright red, unfocused, and reflective in the dim lights from the storefronts and street-lights. These hungry eyes were currently on the lookout for anything on the street with a pulse.

Sheesh. Wasn’t there any kind of nightlife in Bridgeport? I mean, I know this place sucks if you want to do anything besides fish, but I was pretty sure people at least LIVED here-

A tiny squeak and a mad scramble emanated from the gutter alongside him, interrupting his self-pity.

He shrugged. Desperate times.

Grinning like a demented jack o’ lantern, he snatched up the offending rat, whipped out his knife and tore the tiny throat open in one fluid movement. He looked one way, then the other, then threw his head back, draining the rat completely within seconds.

Ah. Now that was a little better. The appetizer to his desired main course, but still – it was something. He chucked the limp little corpse into a nearby garbage bin, wiped his mouth on his sleeve, sighed, groaned slightly, and leaned against the wall, doing his best to ignore the hunger pangs.

Where was everyone, anyway?

[Clairice-Sarah]

'Did you just go to the car wash?' Angel's father looked up from the TV when she stepped into the house.

Angel didn't look at him. '...yeah.'

'At this hour? Why? What's on your jeans?'

'...because I won't have time tomorrow. And that's paint, Dad. Like always.' She was upstairs only for a moment to change into new jeans and grab a clean hoodie. 'I'm gonna go take some pictures in the park,' she explained as she approached the door, though she had no purse and no camera. 'I don't get night shots very often.' He gave her a half wave without looking.

This was far, far removed from the park. The water-colour based monster had been easy to kill and clean up this time around, but both her wrists ached. The left was sore from the new cut and the tight wrappings, and the right wanted to continue creating. She couldn't stop herself from painting and she certainly couldn't drive well with this much aching. So she went for a walk. Without a medium to work with, maybe it would pass.

So here she was, far removed from her street and wandering town. Head down, hands in her hoodie pockets. She thumbed her cell phone though she had no one to contact. Maybe Zelia...

No. She was sleeping, maybe, or maybe Tobias would be hungry and Angel was tired. And she didn't know the specifics but there was nothing healthy about dumping out a half pint of blood in one night.

She turned the corner and came to a stop. Angel stared, dumbly, at the man slumped against the wall before her brain caught up with the situation. Angel knew about attacks of monsters in Bridgeport - knowing just Zelia and herself she could account for a couple of those. Was he attacked by something? She leaned toward him but didn't take a step further.

"Um...you okay?" she asked, in a tiny voice. Her right wrist ached more and she clenched her fist in her pocket, wishing it would stop.

Angel was a lot of things. Street smart wasn't one of them.

[scribblerrigby]

The sudden smell of fresh blood reached him before the girl’s voice did; it was so intense, he coughed in surprise. He cursed under his breath, then whirled around - perhaps a little too eagerly - to face her, slightly thrown now that he was towering over the tiny woman in front of him. Her hands were tightly bandaged and shoved in her pockets, but they were definitely the source of the smell. She looked vaguely familiar - had he seen her at school?

“HIII! Yeah...am I okay...?...yeah. Ha, ha. Yeah, I'm fine... I'm fine now. Just a little hungry, that's all.” He grinned in spite of himself, regaining some composure - he'd be needing it, after all.  “But YOU…um...your hands are bleeding. ” Tact, however, was still obviously out of the question.

He coughed again and looked around. The smoking girl was still puffing away at her window, and someone else was coming up the sidewalk at a distance. But they were far enough away. Maybe.

She was looking at him oddly. Probably because you’re the picture of crazy right now, buddy. Hungry vampires don’t make the best first impressions, he figured. Hopefully he could salvage this one before he scared her off. Taking a deep breath, he tried again, his voice casually strained.

"What happened? Do you need help with that?"

[Clairice-Sarah]

The energetic response threw her off.

Angel pulled her hands out of her pockets as he mentioned them, staring down. "Uh, yeah." Maybe she should have pulled her sleeves down further... "But they're okay. I'm okay." Now that she saw his face, he looked...mildly familiar, but she'd been here long enough, that didn't everyone look familiar? She stared at the bandages once more before letting her hands drop awkwardly at her side.

"You..." He seemed a little out of it. Maybe she shouldn't press the issue.

"Just my cat," she explained, looking away from him. "He's little. Still does that sometimes." She wished for once this couldn't be the topic of conversation. Angel wished she could set it straight that she wasn't cutting because she wanted to.

"Um...but if you're fine, there's just a convenience store a little further down." She smiled at Malcom, tense. Her hands hurt; she clenched them. "I guess I'll let you be, then."

She flinched, slightly, as the mark on her right wrist pulsed. No canvas, no painting. She repeated the mantra to herself and moved to walk past him. Right, talking to strangers in the dark. Smart girl, Angel. She bit her lip, and looked down to her hands again.

Keep walking.

[scribblerrigby]

Malcolm couldn’t help but stare at the bandages. They reeked. The cuts were still fresh, and fairly deep. No way. Bullcrap. Bull. Crap. A kitten couldn’t do that. Hell, his own Buffy still shredded his arms on a daily basis, something she’d been doing for over ten years, and they didn’t bleed like that. People do strange things, I guess. But even cutters needed cleaner bandages. The doctor in him was a little disgusted. He looked back up at her, unsure of what to say or do, when he recognized her. Sort of.

“High School! Those trippy-ass Cthulhu stuff in that art class!” He couldn’t for the life of him remember her name, though. Then again, he probably never bothered to ask it in the first place – his high school experience wasn’t exactly spent running around in the art circles. He smiled and laughed. “I’m sorry, that was random. I just thought I recognized you from somewhere.”

A mouse scrambled alongside the nearest building. He reluctantly let it. Damn it. He was still hungry. He moaned softly, then focused back on the girl.

“Can you help me?” The words came quiet and unbidden from his mouth before he was able to stop them.

[Clairice-Sarah]

Angel paused as he gave her the stare that said he knew better, and then didn't say anything. She didn't know if she like the lack of comment, or not. Were his eyes-- Angel picked up on that just now - another? She was about to ask when he exclaimed once more.

This time she took a step back, as if the shout had actually shocked her. "You know what Cthulhu is?" she asked, with genuine surprise. So maybe she did know him from around town, or high school, apparently - but nothing further than that.

"Can you help me?"

Angel set aside the bubbling ramble of H.P. Lovecraft and her eyebrows came together in confusion. "What?" She answered her own question when she looked up into his eyes again.

"...You too?" At that, she gave a bit of a sigh, and looked down at her right wrist, which pulsed as she thought about it. Of course, she did this for Zelia every few weeks so she couldn't just...say no to someone else, could she? Angel had a feeling that violence happened - not unlike with herself - with Zelia when the baby was hungry, but...

"I guess...depends on how much." She frowned a little. The idea made her queasy. She never wanted to indulge the semi-sentient bloodthirstiness of this curse.

[scribblerrigby]

>”…You, too?”

He stared blankly for a second. “Me too…?” Her expression was frustratingly unreadable, though he noticed she was starting to reek of unease.

I don’t blame her, though. I’ve kinda’ been a little nuts right in her face, and…I guess I look a little scary. Fangy and all. And there are the bloody splotches on my sleeve. I’d be uneasy, too.

“OHHHH!”

God. She knows. And isn’t running away. Or asking if I sparkle in the sunlight.

If he were more in his right mind, alarm bells would have gone off in his brain at that point. But as it was, he could only stare.

>”I guess…depends on how much.”

“Oh. Not too much. I mean, sure spare as much as you can, that would be GREAT... GOD that would be great. Just don’t…kill yourself or make yourself sick or anything. I really, really...don’t want anyone dying,” he managed to say, even as he moved a little closer and eyed her hungrily.

“But really,” he added, shifting uncomfortably and looking around at the handful of pedestrians and loiterers that would NOT GO AWAY. “As long as it’s human, I’ll be fine. You…you seem pretty cool about all of this…” he added, slightly confused. He wasn’t exactly used to negotiating with his victims about how much blood he was going to take. Should he even be encouraging cutting in the first place? Probably not.

But hey, she seemed fairly unsurprised. Part of him wanted to know why. But most of him wanted to take whatever he could get at this point.

[Clairice-Sarah]

He really...isn't all there, is he? He probably looked like a crazy addict to a normal person. He had to Angel, at least, a few minutes ago. But he was what she thought then, another vampire. The first real one she'd met - after all, the other one she knew was...well, not entirely there in presence. She grimaced as he rambled on and stared at her like that. "Um, well, I don't want to die either..." She managed a weak laugh, attempting to lighten up the air. She glanced around to the people walking by.

"Yeah, I...have a friend who kind of...needs help too," she answered. "We should go where there are less people." For a dark night in early spring, it certainly was populated. She paused mid-step and analyzed what she was doing. Was he as sincere as he sounded? If he wasn't, what could she do now?

I could draw right on a wall, I guess, and then run...what am I doing here? I guess I'm crazy too.

"Oh...I'm Angeline," she said, belatedly, turning down the nearest alley. Afraid he might take it right off, she did not extend her hand to shake. She moved behind the shadow of the dumpster and brought up her left sleeve. Her right hand shook as she unwrapped her hand and arm.

"You just...want it direct, right?" With force she put her right hand back into her pocket. Without her truck, she had no way of killing anything she made. Angel held her cut up left arm for him. "Um..." She wasn't sure what the etiquette for this was.

[scribblerrigby]

So she’s used to vampires, if she’s telling the truth. Why would you lie about that, though, you know? That’s a pretty weird thing to lie about. She’s just being genuine. Unless she was a hunter or something, like that big blond man he’d seen around town. He looked at the tiny woman again.

Nah. Not hunter material. Just a little naïve.

He followed her, laughing uneasily. “This looks really…wrong, you know…Don’t worry. Nobody will end up dead tonight but me. Not like that’s anything new.”

>”Oh…I’m Angeline.”

“Angeline…Angeline. The Lovecraft artist. Cool. I’m Malcolm. Normally I’m pretty well-fed around here. I just…forgot. Parties'd do that to you, you know?”

She was shaking, he saw that. Fear? Anemia? He’d have to control himself and not drink too much if the latter was true. Especially because it seemed that she was having difficulty moving her right hand. When the bandages came off, it took all he had to remain still. He gritted his teeth. STOP. BEING. SCARED. DAMMIT. It’s not helping!

He took a deep, calming, breath, impressed at her trust, and smiled reassuringly at her. “Angeline. I promise I won’t kill you. It won’t even be that much. Okay? You don’t need to be scared. It’ll be fine. How does your friend do this?”

[Clairice-Sarah]

"Yeah, this looks messed up," she agreed, it almost felt like they were doing something illegal.

She felt a knot of panic building in her stomach. "That's..." She had no brief explanation of how she and Zelia went about it. "Complicated. Not like this." Would he hurry up already? The thought of this made her choke a little on her words. No lies, blood still grossed her out. Maybe it always would.

She bent her wrist back to reopen the gashes from tonight. "Can we...um...it hurts, I want to put the bandages back on." She shut her eyes. No canvas, no painting. "I said I'd do it." She gave him a half, unsure smile in return. "Okay?"

[scribblerrigby]

“Okay, okay! I’m sorry.” He smiled back, gently, firmly taking her arm. He’d seen that look of queasiness on many kids in his biology classes – the ones that usually transferred out a week later. “Don’t look, if it makes you feel better. Close your eyes. You’ll be fine…you’ll be fine.”

He repeated the mantra softly, more to reassure himself than anything else. And he drank.
___

“Angeline? You can look now. You okay?”

He had had one of his hands on her shoulder. He’d only taken a pint or so, but he had no way of telling how much she had already lost. Stupid of him. Oh, god, please don’t pass out.

[Clairice-Sarah]

At first Angel shut her eyes and tried to hold still. She let her eyes open once or twice out of morbid curiosity but each time she did her stomach did another flip. It was the weirdest sensation she'd ever felt and mentally noted that she was never doing this again. She shouldn't have done it in the first place, she supposed.

She started feeling dizzy long before he grabbed her shoulder and backed off her arm.

She blinked a few times. "Uh..." And then shook her head. "Yeah. I've been worse." Angel looked down at her arm and began wrapping it once more. Perhaps it was good that she hadn't driven. She clenched and unclenched her hand, then wondered why she expected it wouldn't work.

"The aching stopped at least," she mumbled out loud. "You're okay now, Malcolm?" Because she wasn't going to stay conscious if he needed more. She fumbled trying to tuck the wrapping in. Angel pursed her lips stubbornly before holding it out to him.

"Can you help me?"

[scribblerrigby]

He smiled, genuinely. “I’m fine, Angeline. “ It was mostly true. He could last through the next day – enough time for him, Marlene, or Jeff to get a hold of some more contraband blood, but she didn’t need to know that. “My complements to the chef. Thank you.”

He watched, unconvinced , eyebrows raised as she unsteadily tried to convince him that she was okay; after a few shots at wrapping her arm back up, she held it out with an admittedly cute little pout. He laughed and obliged, keeping his arm around her shoulder to steady her. “I have you, Angeline. I have you. But you’re definitely not okay, and I’ll not hear anything else. Pretty sure falling over not a sign of being okay. Hey – You think that convenience store down the street is still open? We gotta’ get you some juice, all right?”

She fixed him up, he decided; now he’d fix her up.

[Clairice-Sarah]

She needed to stop introducing herself by her full first name - it was so strange to hear anyone besides her parents and sister call her by it. "It should be," she replied, "It always is when I drive by."

She wasn't so sure she wanted any help, maybe she should just stumble her way home. Another voice inside of her told her she'd be stupid to insist that. Within the last oh - six? - hours she'd lost a lot of blood. Blood...Ugh, she had clothes to clean in the morning.

Angel sighed and put her arm around him to hold herself up. "I hope it doesn't make you sick," she said before stopping herself. She never asked Zelia if there were side-effects to consuming her monsters - and Zelia was still hanging around, so perhaps there weren't any at all. But it was the blood and not her hand that brought the monsters to life.

"I mean...nevermind. Do you go to the college now?"

It dawned on her then that if she showed up home stumbling and incoherent, her parents were going to kill her. She certainly didn't feel like an adult when she thought about it that way.

[scribblerrigby]

“Right. Let’s go, then!” He stopped, suddenly worried. “Hey, um…Why would your blood make me sick?”

It WAS Bridgeport, after all. The possibilities were there - One of his best friends was a werewolf and a willing donor, but werewolf blood ended up tasting like cat piss, and he’d spent the rest of that night hugging the porcelain. He didn’t want to be doing that again, at all. But she quickly backpedaled and instead asked him a question, so Fin let his own drop. For now.

“Yeah, I do. Second year, pre-med. Then I’m SO outta’ here. You need to sit down or anything?” They’d arrived outside the store. “I can run in and get something. But how about you? You still drawing your Great Old Ones?” He grinned. "Those were pretty awesome back then."