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At a table in a diner in Bristol sat three vampires. It was still dark out, and the poor hollow-eyed youth behind the counter looked like he desperately wanted to go home and have a good, long nap.
Daisy, however, was twitchy for an entirely different reason. "They killed my Ivan," she hissed, stabbing the table with her fork.
Mitchell said nothing. He stared down at his hands and reminded himself that he'd gotten started here to get out, to begin with. This... was an out. It was going to have to be an out. Christ.
He chose not to think about all the dead vampires. Instead, he cracked open another soda and let Daisy's ravings about revenge and humans waging war on them pass over him like a flood.
[[ for one if he's around, otherwise establishy. ]]
Daisy, however, was twitchy for an entirely different reason. "They killed my Ivan," she hissed, stabbing the table with her fork.
Mitchell said nothing. He stared down at his hands and reminded himself that he'd gotten started here to get out, to begin with. This... was an out. It was going to have to be an out. Christ.
He chose not to think about all the dead vampires. Instead, he cracked open another soda and let Daisy's ravings about revenge and humans waging war on them pass over him like a flood.
[[ for one if he's around, otherwise establishy. ]]
