Boone shivered as Heath cocked Boone’s head to one side to inspect his neck, then brushed his fingers against it as he tilted his head back towards him. Was Heath… flirting with him? Boone had never been good at reading signals from people. That had always been Callie’s specialty. She had been the one that told Boone about his one and only ex-boyfriend. She had also been the one that had told Boone that she thought he had feelings for him too and that he should go for it. The whole experience had been… different to say the least. So he glanced curiously at Heath before smiling back to not come across as too strange. Boone had tried the boyfriend thing, and honestly he wasn’t sure how he felt about dating another guy again. Boone didn’t really think about dating anybody at all honestly. Relationships came with way too many complications. Not that Heath was bad looking. He was definitely different. Very edgy. Very confident it seemed. Unlike any person Boone had met in boring old Ohio.
“Oh ha ha” Boone laughed sarcastically. The Twilight reference wasn’t lost on Boone, Callie loved trashy supernatural movies like that. Plus Boone admitted it wasn’t the worst movie in existence. Apparently it wasn’t too accurate when it came to vampires. She must not have consulted with one before writing her book. Boone tried picturing different vampires she had seen in television shows or movies over the years. The whole sparkling in the sun definitely seemed a first for popular culture. Most that he had seen they either started boiling or literally caught on fire. Boone wondered which one was more accurate, if any. “In my defense, that was my first time seeing one. I don’t really know what to expect from them.”
Boone definitely noticed that Heath didn’t answer his question. He even claimed that Boone wasn’t the only human, not including himself at all. But honestly, who cared if Heath was a vampire? He had already saved his life today, and in an abandoned alley. Now Heath was walking him back to the street, back to public. Would someone that planned on eating him do that? It didn’t matter how infamous the place was for vampires, Heath wouldn’t just kill him on a public street in front of people, right? Of course not. The idea was preposterous. Someone would call the police. Probably.
Who was Boone to turn down a free drink? After being so concerned about money during the entire trip from Ohio to Maine, Boone felt like it would be stupid, and also rude to turn down Heath’s offer. “I should be the one buying you a drink. You did save my life after all.” Boone grinned and swung the door to the bar open, holding it for Heath to go through. He waited until the two sat down before continuing the conversation.
“So when you say forever… do you mean literally? Or was that an exaggeration?” Try to squeeze the question back into the conversation without coming right out and asking it seemed like the smartest play. It was obvious that Heath wasn’t an idiot, but he seemed to enjoy games. Maybe talking around Boone’s real questions was going to be what actually got him questions in the end.
Heath had met his fair share of gullible people and people that were easy to manipulate, with one even living in his damn apartment, but it never failed to amaze him just how trusting people could be. ‘If it’s too good to believe, it probably is’ was a phrase Heath had long since ascribed to his own life, which made it significantly harder for other people to pull any bullshit on him but this guy... It was almost endearing that he thought someone who’d saved his ass and offered to buy him a drink in this part of town had no ulterior motives. Not even an ounce of healthy paranoia.
“Maybe I’ll let you pay for the second round,” Heath replied, keeping up the frustrating charade as he smiled. Followed Boone into the bar, made himself comfortable in the slightly sticky booth. He could see the cogs turning in the man’s head and sure enough, he popped out the question, about as subtle as a vampire in a party full of slayers. Grinning at the vjesci, Heath leaned across the table. “Are you accusing me of something?”
Before the man could freak himself out into a panic, Heath chuckled, leaning back in his seat. “I’m messing with you.” Fingers drumming on the table, Heath glanced over at the bar. Not too crowded, he could probably get away with retrieving their drinks and slipping something in without drawing any unwanted attention. “It was an exaggeration. You know, not everyone with facial piercings is a vampire.” Winking at Boone, Heath pulled his gangly frame up from the booth. “Hope you’re alright with G&T?” he asked, not bothering waiting for an answer as he was already walking towards the bar.
As the bartender mixed the drinks, Heath kept one eye on Boone. Making sure the vjesci didn’t get the urge to up and leave without saying goodbye. Pulling out the small bag of litmus, Heath had to admit that he was slightly curious himself. Reza seemed to enjoy the high from the tasteless powder but true to rumors, it had no effect on the undead. But on some sort of half-breed with a healthy blood flow...
Pushing over cash for the drinks, Heath smoothly slipped the powder into Boone’s glass, inconspicuously stirring it in with the straw. Glancing around, making sure no eyes had lingered as being accused of trying to roofie someone was not on Heath’s set list for this evening, the eretich returned to the booth.
Sliding Boone’s glass over, Heath smiled again, sure that his cheeks would ache by now if such trivial things bothered him. “A toast. To Ashkent. Welcome to the town of blood rain and vampires.” Holding up his own glass for a toast, rather excited to get this little game over with.
The raid had gone... alright. Not perfectly, Heath admitted, but people had died and the pesky slayer woman hosting the damn thing was most likely wracked with guilt. Probably hell bent on getting revenge, too. The vampires who'd been dusted were a casualty Heath had been suspecting, and hadn't particularly cared about, but he couldn't help but be slightly worried about the wendigo, last seen running around with flames eating at his hide or whatever. Mostly for his own benefit. Having a thing like that on your side was useful, and Heath didn't like losing things that were useful. Especially if they weren't insufferable to be around, either. After neither of his two very concerned messages had gone through, the eretich had made up some stupid excuse, leaving Reza at home while he went to check up on Zack. He'd only been to that cabin once, while followed by a raging wendigo, so it was a slight surprise that he found his way back there so quickly. Following the slight sense of death helped. There didn't look to be anyone inside and Heath tried the door without even knocking, finding it locked. Knuckles rapped impatiently against the wood, a part of him wondering if Zack actually had been burnt to a crisp. "Open up," he demanded, straining his hearing for... yes, there was someone alive inside.
The morning after had left Zack with a tad more crippling pain than he was used to, which was saying something given how shit he usually felt after his transformations. Like his bones had- well, done exactly what they'd actually done, but hadn't healed back up just right, not all the way. Like every time, that difference between healed and not healed made itself just a little more known, little scratches wearing down the surface. And this time around, the painful, blistering burns and the scorched scraps of what remained of his clothes provided a worrisome and bewildering hint as to how the night before had truly gone down. By the time his long trudge back to his cabin was done, Zack had spent considerable time cussing out himself, Heath, queen bee Babineaux, and whatever else had possessed him to think raiding the house of a Slayer had been a good idea. The irritated relief of seeing Heath had made it out safe and sound, and of taking some much needed pain medication, had only slightly managed to mellow him out. Enough that by the time a familiar voice came calling with an impatient knock on his door (and Heath had actually come to visit, something Zack wasn't entirely sure he'd expected), Zack grunted to himself as he heaved himself out of his chair, winced at the way his clothing shifted against the bandages on his body, and staggered over to the door to turn the key, pull it open a crack (far as the chain allowed - it amused him to pretend it was much of a match for Heath's strength, and it would probably either amuse or piss off the vampire, either of which suited him) and grunt out "What?" in a not particularly friendly tone while peering at his pasty Tokyo Hotel wannabe of a friend-with-more-disadvantages-than-benefits.
Heavy footsteps approached the door, slowly, almost painstakingly, confirming Heath's suspicion that Zack had been at least somewhat hurt. Arm braced against the doorframe, Heath heard the locks twisting and turning, a very displeased face finally appearing behind the door chain. Dark eyes flitted for just a moment towards the chain, and then back up at Zack's glare. "Glad to see you too," he replied, gaze once again wondering down, spotting a glimpse of bandages around Zack's hands. Probably more where they couldn't be seen. Weren't wendigos supposed to have rapid healing as well? Heath had woken up the next morning without a scratch while it looked like Zack had been licking his wounds all this time. "Can I come in or are we having this conversation like you're waiting for me to apologize for cheating?" Heath plucked at the chain, pulled taut. Could have broken it from the doorframe with ease but wanted Zack to actually open up himself. Or at least, to give him the option, since he looked pissy. He raised a questioning eyebrow.
Zack patiently withstood the not-so-subtle once-overing Heath inflicted on him. Any other time he might have been amused and flattered, right now he was just irritated. No shit, he hadn't done the best patch-up job of himself. Sybella's pet doctor had spooked along with Sybella herself, which had left Zack alone with WebMD and a handful of online advice blogs. Despite the irritating pain, making Heath try to feel guilty for it hadn't actually been his intention. It was more than antagonising Heath seemed like a more entertaining past-time right now than anything else he could come up with, and it never got old. "Why, did you cheat on me?" Zack asked dryly, raising his eyebrow, but then gave a loose shrug, inwardly rolled his eyes, and unhooked the chain. "Help yourself inside," he said with a lethargic, welcoming sweep of his arm in the direction of his couch, and shuffled back to his spot smack in the middle of it. He gave Heath a look. "Get you anything to drink?" he asked just seriously enough to sound sarcastic.
"I would never, sweetheart," Heath replied in the same disinterested tone, although a smirk was ghosting across his face. Seemed like injury only added to Zack's sassy streak. Not that Heath was conplaining, it was amusing. The door was swung open and Heath gave a bow in return, strolling into the cabin and looking around. Medical bandages still lay on the kitchen table, proving Heath's suspicion that the wendigo had patched up the wounds himself. Wondering why he hadn't contacted Heath. Pride, probably. Arms crossed, he leaned against the wall, regarding Zack with an almost curious look. "I ate before I came, thanks," he replied honestly, although tempted to ask if Zack had anything alcoholic. "Thought you were dead. Did you accidentally eat your wifi or something?" he asked, tone suddenly as serious as that night back at the bar, talking about Reza and The Liberation. "I've saved your sorry ass once, I would have considered helping you again if you'd have called. Idiot."
Zack wasn't entirely sure if his frequent partner-in-crme had only now adopted the dialect of a petulant thirteen-year-old, or if he'd always been like that and he'd just never noticed. "Absolutely," he answered him flatly, voice deadpan. "I ate my wifi. Coughed it up afterwards, wires and all. Was not delicious, do not recommend." As he sat back against the couch, trying to breathe and not move too much, he listened to Heath's suddenly comically serious diatribe and raised an eyebrow, a faint and amused smirk on his face. "Didn't realise you've been feeling so charitable lately. You know, you're not what I expected from you, Heath. I always thought nurses were supposed to wear these white scrubs and latex gloves and little stockings on their little legs. Would it have killed you to dress the part before you dropped by?"
Heath rolled his eyes, feeling slightly annoyed by Zack's faint annoyance. The wendigo was much more agreeable when he wasn't all wound up and pissy, although Heath might have been more amused by it all if he hadn't been forced to come all the way here to check up on Zack. Wondered if the wendigo had ignored his messages on purpose. "That's a bit kinky, even for you, Zachary," he replied, long legs carrying him in few strides over to the couch. He flopped down right next to Zack, knowing he'd jostle the other man just enough to make his wounds ache. "Does that drink offer still stand? I could go for something alcoholic. Maybe you could throw on a French maid suit? With that cute, little headdress," he added, reaching over to ruffle Zack's hair.
Zack did his best to suppress his wince as Heath occupied a long-legged space next to him, but forwent comment, deciding that it served as appropriately petty revenge over him not answering his messages. Give as good as you get, always, even if he had a feeling Heath wasn't anywhere near done. Figures that the vampire would play along with his mocking and try to turn it around on him, and with some familiar hair-ruffling, to boot, as if trying to mess up his combed hair the night before hadn't been enough. Zack shot him a glare that was slightly at odds with the faint upward twist of his lips, raised a single, expressive finger right up to Heath's face, and shifted in his seat to prop his legs up on the cluttered cheap coffee table. "There's beer in the fridge," he shrugged, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the kitchen. "But you'll have to get it yourself. Think you can manage that?"
Surprisingly, Zack seemed more amused than irritated by Heath's mocking, and even the patronizing hair ruffle was met with only a warning finger. At least Zack wasn't acting like a little bitch any longer just because of a few burns and bruises. Eyes following Zack's gesture towards the kitchen, Heath sighed. "Nah. I just really wanted to see you in a maid suit." Settling further into the couch, with less aggression than before but still not paying much mind to the injured person next to him. "So... fire, huh? Is that like the only thing that can fuck you up?" he asked, bringing out something to smoke as he spoke, as if adding insult to injury. Or maybe just irony to injury. Lighting the rolled cigarette, Heath was tempted to flick the lighter at Zack but resisted. It might make the wendigo all snappy again and Heath much preferred hanging out here than moping around in the kitten-hair infested apartment, resisting the urge to throw them both off the balcony.
Zack indulged Heath's amusing attempt to be mock-threatening for a whole five seconds, eyebrow raised, before reaching into his own pocket for his pack of cigs and waving them pointedly at the vampire. Might have made a more effective threat if it wasn't something he already indulged in on the regular. Rather than reaching for his own lighter, he held ou his cigarette to Heath in a wordless request that was part challenge. The only thing that could fuck him up? Hardly. "No," he answered vaguely, and kept his eyes on Heath's, the cigarette pinched between his fingers as he waited to see if the vampire would press for more - the vampire he was pretty sure wasn't just a vampire, but was showing an interest, all of sudden, in the whimsical part of Zack's nature. Part of him wanted to show his unruly guest the door and curl up on his couch to spend the rest of the evening moping away, but if nothing else, Heath had always been good for a distraction. When his cigarette was lit, he nodded in thanks and leaned his head back, letting his eyes slip shut in an unsubtle display of 'I don't care what the fuck you are, you're on my turf and I'm not afraid of you'. He took a drag, slow and sickly-sweet, and sighed before he continued, voice tentative and serious. "There's a lot of things that can fuck me up. Fire's one thing, but that's not the main problem. That's not the shit people go for, when they want to take down something like me." He stopped for dramatic effect and took another drag, eyes still closed.
Heath sniffed at the vague reply, lips curling around the cigarette. The answer was a slight surprise; seeing the giant deer-slash-monster-slash whatever the hell a wendigo actually was for the first time had convinced Heath that there wasn't much that could mess a thing like that up. Part of the reason he'd decided he wanted to say on Zack's good side. Or as much of a good side as his attitude allowed him to be. At least Zack hadn't threatened to eat him yet, although he had threatened to turn his convenient human into a monster as well. Which was worse than getting eaten, to be honest. Flicking on the light for Zack, Heath pocketed the lighter once more, cocking an eyebrow at the passive aggressive way Zack leaned back on the couch. His neck was completely exposed and from anyone else, this would have been an invitation for a kill. Heath couldn't help but wonder if wendigo blood tasted as strangely dead as the wendigo vibe felt. "Something like you?" Heath scoffed. "You sound like you're in some cliche teen monster film. Get over yourself, Bambi." Leaning his head back as well, still keeping a side eye on Zack in his weird, zen mood, Heath took another drag from his smoke. "So if someone were to, say, slit your throat when you were still human...?"
Zack resisted cracking up as much as he could - Heath had all but ruined the dramatic air he'd been going for, but damn if he wasn't going to finish what he'd started. "Wouldn't work," he said briskly, still making no effort to open his eyes even though he knew Heath must be getting an eyeful of his neck by now. "As I was saying, it takes something specific to bring me down. Fire's one thing, but it's got to be fire lit from the fart of a were-cow under a full moon," he explained in the same somber tone. "And the other thing..." he did open his eyes then, and looked Heath dead in the eye. "Marshmallows. They're poison to all Wendigo. Eat one, get wounded by a knife laced with one, get stabbed with a marshmallow barbecue stick, it doesn't matter. It's deadly," he elaborated with a straight face, eyes slightly widened and tone going hushed. "...I do hope you're worthy of the trust I'm putting into you here, Edward. And honestly, if you wanted a go at my neck," he said with a chuckle, and took a drag to puff the smoke into Heath's face, "all you had to do was ask."
Heath's eyes narrowed slightly, before a slight smile cracked at his lips. What the hell was Zack on about... His eyebrows were raised, lips curled in some half-assed attempt to hide his amusement. Meeting the serious gaze, even though staring into those already large eyes in their intense state was more amusing than the bullshit coming from Zack's mouth, Heath gave a somber nod. "And I was going to invite you to go camping with me," he sighed wistfully, a smirk finally breaking out across his face when the nickname left Zack's lips. Drawing in an unnecessary breath to inhale the smoke blown his way, Heath's amused twist of the lips only widened. "Is that an offer, Zachary?" he asked, voice low, but still joking. "You trust me with your deep, dark secrets but do you really trust me with your neck?" Turning his head away from Zack, head once again falling back against the couch, Heath let the cigarette rest between his lips. "Although I am curious to see if you taste the same, strange way you feel."
Zack was tempted to ask what the over-use of his given name was all about, but only snorted instead, relaxing against the couch a little bit more. Whatever pain-dulling effect nicotine had, he'd grown resistant to a long while ago, but that didn't mean this wasn't relaxing, in an unexpected, 'might have invited a vampire of some dickitude' risky sort of way. In fact, he kind of did want a beer now, but the last thing he wanted was to give Heath more room for mockery by asking him to bring him one. At least not unless he had a card to play in return, and... there was something there, something about Heath's answer, past the self-confessed fantasising about snacking on him, that made him pause and wonder if the vampire was in a sharing mood after all. "The strange way I 'feel'?" Zack repeated with some disbelief, and glanced down over himself as if looking for something tangible the vampire could be 'feeling'. He snorted faintly at Heath. "Didn't take you for that kind of hippy, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe I was wrong about a lot of things, huh? Cards on the table - how do I 'feel', hm?"
Heath quirked an eyebrow, realizing he'd perhaps spoken a bit too freely. Zack's curiosity was piqued, it seemed, and Heath wondered whether or not he should try and brush this off. Make a joke. Watching Zack look himself over, almost in confusion, he couldn't really see the harm in sharing. If only to avoid the other man calling him a hippy. Shifting on the couch, Heath sighed, killing his cigarette on one of the messy plates on the coffee table. "Not going to argue that you're wrong about a lot of things," he started, turning on the couch to swing his legs over Zack, resting them over the other's. Knowing that the wendigo would let them stay if it meant that Heath would speak. "You feel like death. Faintly. Sort of like blood and flesh as well. Like... hunger." The reply was honest, as close to an explanation as he could get with these senses. "You're the first wendigo I've ever... vibed. Which will make it easier to spot the next, if I ever find it." He watched Zack with a slightly smug expression. "I'm an eretich, before you ask any stupid questions."
Despite his bluster and the stupid jokes, Zack had to admit Heath was full of surprises today - in a way, he was having a strange amount of trouble reading the vampire, enough that the uncannily blunt, straightforward explanation of his 'vibe' caught him off guard, and so did the legs swung casually across his, or rather, understanding why he'd done that. Of all the things Heath could have gone with that were sure to annoy him - in theory, at least - right now, Zack had to wonder - why go with that? The answer, too, made him feel something he hadn't felt in a long while: true fascination. It was strangely flattering, hearing how someone else perceived you with senses you couldn't begin to comprehend. Death, hunger, flesh and blood. Sounded about right. Zack tilted his head, not even bothering to respond to the legs on his lap, and decided that he liked the way it sounded. "...Vibed," Zack repeated after him, amused but also curious at that explanation of how his powers worked, when it would have been so easy to feed Zack a pile of bullshit to match the cow farts and marshmallows story he'd spouted earlier. When Heath confessed to a name for himself, however, Zack did snort, an outlet of his surprise that the vampire had gone that far. Vague mentions of 'vibes' and 'feelings' were one thing, names and species were another. A name was a start, something to search for in a book. Maybe only fair given Zack's own exposed weaknesses, but even so, he'd never taken him to be the sentimental or 'fair' type. "Gesundheit," he responded jokingly to the confession. "You're what kind of tick now? Hate to tell you, but this isn't exactly news to me. The blood-drinking kind of gave it away." The blood-drinking Heath had alluded to being curious about, just a minute ago, and something that Zack for the life of him couldn't quite put out of his mind.
Heath saw a fairly unfamiliar expression ghosting across Zack's face. Something like curiosity, which was a far cry from the usual displays of either sass or anger. He'd expected at least some response to the admission to 'vibing' as he'd so articulately put it, but Zack seemed honed in on the explanation of how he felt. Probably the first time he'd heard something like it, too. The fascination almost made Heath wish that he was lying. Just to be able to crack some joked at Zack's expense. Rolling his eyes at the cheesy response, Heath still couldn't help a smirk from returning to his face. It was a while since he'd actually told anyone what he was, gotten to talk about the privilege of sensing other species. Maybe he was bored of not being able to brag. Maybe he just genuinely wanted to tell someone. Honestly, he wasn't sure, but being called a 'tick' wasn't one of the reasons. "I'm baring my heart here and you're comparing me to a parasite?" he asked, voice less indignant than the sentence implied. He didn't really cared, it just felt like one of the lame nicknames Izel would have thrown his way to try and put him off. "It's Russian for heretic, or so the books say." Heath adjusted his legs with the pretense of getting comfortable, arms folding behind his head.
"What do you mean, comparing?" Zack snorted, eyeing the legs as they got a little too comfortable and then making an effort to shove them off, then staggered to his feet. "If it soothes your hurt feelings, though, I much prefer you to the kind of tick you spend hours trying to dig out of your skin after a camping weekend," he said leisurely, his voice rising in volume as he shuffled over into the kitchen to dig that beer out of the fridge after all. Carrying two bottles and a bottle opener, he returned to set down one of the bottles on the table just out of even Heath's long-limbed reach (at least if the 'tick wanted to stay seated) and opened the other one. Leaning sideways against the wall, he let the coolness of the beer bottle seep into his fingers and gave Heath a lopsided smile. "For the most part, you're better company than a tiny and stupid insect, but don't let it go to your head or anything." He took a swig before his curious, more solemn expression returned, and he eyed Heath in newfound appreciation. "I've got to admit, I've never heard of a 'vibing' kind of vampire. How'd you get turned? Something tells me it might not be as straightforward as the usual way."
"You're flattering me, wendigo," Heath called after Zack's retreating form, readjusting his position on the couch as his previous one had been completely destroyed by Zack. Straining his neck slightly to spot the two beers being extracted from the fridge, Heath smirked, settling comfortably on the couch. Only to have Zack once again ruin his comfort by placing the beer out of reach. Quirking an amused eyebrow at the wendigo, he reluctantly ruined his sprawl of a position to reach for the beer. "Yeah, I'd still prefer an actual deer to you." Popping the cap off with his teeth, ignoring the bottle opener, Heath downed half the bottle. Not like the first bottle of beer really did anything special to him. "Of course you haven't. Most of us don't exactly advertise it." Long fingers drummed against the bottle, Heath's eyes on the clutter of a coffee table. "I died. Simple as that. Woke up to one of my tattoos trying to kill me." A barely visible nod of the head gestured to his forearm, the scar-tissue a gap in the tattoos present there.
Zack's eyes drifted to the scar tissue, proportioned just enough that it could have held the design of a cross. Probably one of those fancy, gothic-looking spiky ones entwined with roses and thorns, but a cross nonetheless, and obviously an unexpected problem for the vampire. Died, woke up, simple as that. Nothing about it sounded simple, and he wondered if Heath was keeping the details to himself, or if he truly did not have more of an answer than that. Zack's own situation, grisly as it had been... well, at least it hadn't been too difficult, understanding the mechanism of action. He found his fingers tapping at the bottle, twitching with the effort of not drifting to his back, to touch the marks there. He shook it off, raised the bottle in the toast, drained half of it to keep up with Heath. "A little anticlimactic, that. Was hoping for a better story, but I suppose you can't have everything. Must have been quite the trip, figuring out all that 'vibing' stuff."
Heath shrugged. "Sorry it's not Twilight," he apologized sarcastically, finishing off his own beer, mostly to see if Zack would do the same. Honestly, if Zack wanted to know more about eretich, googling it probably wouldn't do the trick, unless he was fluent in Russian. It had mostly just been luck, running into someone who actually knew what he was. Apparently, vampires couldn't generally sense slayers, as well as all the other species. The realization had made him feel proud. Smug, even. "I suppose. Was a little too busy dealing with the blood lust to think about that at first, though." Returning the empty bottle to the table, his eyes focused on Zack. On the slightly distant look. "What about you? When did you turn into a giant moose monster?" Heath shifted on the couch and patted the seat next to him with a small smirk. "Come on, sharing is caring."
Zack eyed the spot the eretich's hand had patted like it might be a nest of poisonous snakes for a solid moment before deciding to indulge this odd companionable mood of Heath's and crossed over to lower himself into the seat gingerly and stretching out his legs. He eyed the rest of his beer, silently considering if Heath were truly feeling some bizarre need for inhuman proximity in that shrivelled black husk he called a heart, or, the more likely explanation, if he simply wanted a warm and humanoid-shaped leg rest to use. The lack of body heat in the undead was no secret, it wouldn't be out of the question for vampires to crowd warm bodies the way snakes would crowd a radiator. Fingers still shifting their grip on the bottle, Zack stared at the wall thoughtfully, that half-smirk of his slipping as he was brought back to that fateful night. "I got bitten," he said curtly, and gave a little shrug and then a wince. He turned to look at Heath, chuckled. "Pretty straightforward, really. Was out camping with a couple of- well, doesn't matter too much now, I suppose. Not a lot of people survive getting chomped on, or there'd be a lot more of us walking around. You've seen what it looks like. Probably have a better idea of what it looks like than I do, given that I don't usually remember a damn thing," he pointed out, the nervous twitch of his fingers finally guiding them to the lower hem of his shirt, tugging it up to show the edge of the scar that started in the middle of his back and disappeared up, shiny tissue marking the site where that Wendigo, whoever the hell it'd been, had tried to take a chomp out of his back, left teeth grazing and tearing and ripping him up but not ripping him in half. He remembered why they'd stopped short, a high-pitched scream as a flashlight was tossed in the monster's face, the snapping jaws that snatched up someone else, instead, left Zack scrambling for the tent flap. Five years ago, now. Too long, and yet not long enough. He let himself sink back into the couch, gave a light sigh. "I was at the hospital, or... the closest thing the place had to one, anyway, the next day. And I was still at the hospital the first time I turned, the very next night. Let's just say both I and the staff were in for a surprise." He gave Heath a crooked grin, best as he could manage in the memory of everything that had torn him up. His sis would've been there already, if her bus hadn't been delayed. Not that it did her a whole lot of good, in the end, dodging that particular bullet.
Heath didn't bother hiding that he was curious; whatever lore he had dug up on the internet usually revolved around some sort of curse that involved cannibalism. Zack might have been a special brand of strange, much like Heath, but he didn't seem like the type to have dabbled in eating humans before he turned, well -- not human. So the fact that it was transmitted by a bite was a bit dull but still, it made sense. Heath cocked his head, leaning closer without realizing to get a better look. It was really quite curious how Zack had managed to survive. Eyes turned back to Zack, to the somberly reminiscent expression on his face, and Heath was pretty sure he could see something akin to guilt even behind that grin. The guy probably would have done well with getting rid off his soul. If he could. A privilege Heath was thankful for. Silence followed the story for a few moments. "So who's going to get the honor of buying the movie rights to your tragic backstory?"
Zack rolled his eyes, not needing to know Heath that well to recognise it when he had to take a few seconds to come up with a comment that was appropriately flippant. "What makes you think they're not already sold?" he retorted, finally finishing off his beer and leaning forward to set the bottle down. He turned to look at Heath then - the vampire was close, close enough that he could swear he could feel the nothing where the faintest traces of diffusing body heat should be, and something about the proximity led his thoughts wandering back to Heath's casual mention of what Zack might taste like. All jokes about Twilight aside, Zack had seen them, first-hand, the groupies who wandered into Teeth looking for the business end of someone's fangs. He'd always assumed they were off their rocker, but... the myths of how it felt to be on the receiving end, they were persistent. Persistent enough that Zack had to admit, the curiosity went both ways. He let himself shift back again, head leaning on the backrest, enough to expose his neck again, but not closing his eyes - just watching. "What else can you vibe? You said you could recognise another Wendigo now, right? That's got to come in handy, if you can do that with more than just my type." He cracked his neck and then rubbed the back of it, ostensibly to soothe the dul ache he still felt after the transformation, but more honestly to see how Heath would react, and just how curious he was.
"Ah, I see. Well, don't forget us little people when you become famous," Heath replied, sarcasm dripping from the words. It seemed the moment of sharing was over, just as well, as Heath wasn't willing to give up more information to get more. Whatever had happened before he'd woken up with the need to carve out half of his arm was the past of someone else, and something he wasn't keen on talking about. Ever. Drifting back into the present conversation, Heath blinked, wondering if Zack was returning to his zen mood again. But his eyes stayed open, watching Heath with something like a side eye, and that twinkle of a curiosity returned. Heath's eyes narrowed slightly. "If I've met it, and can connect the vibe to the species, well..." Bones cracked, the sound abnormally loud in the otherwise quiet room. He cocked his head, watching the tendons in Zack's neck strain against the skin; felt more than heard the blood rushing underneath the pale neck. Yes, he was staring, but that had obviously been Zack's intention and Heath let his eyes flash red, more curious than hungry, but eager to take the offer all the same. If the offer was serious and not just more pointless banter. "I hope you realize I don't take kindly to being teased with no endgame."
Zack did his best to feign innocence for about half a second before he chuckled, holding the red-eyed gaze directed at him. All things considered, Heath was doing well not to drool. He almost asked what made Heath think there was no endgame, but there was no way he was going to make this easy, not if any benefit to him was far from guaranteed. He shrugged instead, and cocked his head at Heath in a nearly guileless way. "Are you going to ask?"
Zack was chuckling, causing Heath to narrow his eyes once again, making the crimson surrounding his pupils slightly less visible. "I don't know, are you going to continue making your neck look like a desperate, cheap hooker?" he shot back, only somewhat appreciating the teasing, much more interested in skipping all that bullshit. He could hear Zack's heartbeat now, ears honing in on the sound; a strong, steady beat despite how genuinely shitty Zack looked after almost being killed by fire. "Either way, I don't really have a habit of asking. For anything."
"That's too bad," Zack shrugged, having trouble containing his amusement. "It's like I said, Heath," he told him semi-seriously, his eyes on the dismayed vampire's, "All you have to do is ask. And if you cannot bring yourself to ask for it, then well, how important can it really be?" he mused, head tilted and eyes twinkling with the full, mutual awareness that he was doing this just to rub Heath the wrong way, because he could, and because he could probably get away with it. Probably - not a certainty, by all means. Zack had to admit pushing him too much probably wasn't the wisest thing to do. And if nothing else, he really didn't want to make a wreck of his cabin.
Heath hummed, a low sound, watching Zack with the same amusement, albeit tainted by the predatory look in his eyes. "You think you're real cute, don't you?" Rising without warning from the couch, looming over Zack, Heath moved swiftly to block Zack's head in between his arms, braced against the back of the couch. Leaning over, standing so that the only way for Zack to get up would be to shove Heath away. Which he wouldn't be able to do with just his measly, humanform arms. This close, he could smell the blood, the slightly tainted feel to it, and it was almost as if the smell was coming from Zack's mouth as well. "How important, really? I saw that look in your eyes, you're curious, too." Eyes flicked from Zack's to his neck, and back up. "You really want me to ask?"
Zack's pulse spiked, the looming menace in Heath's body, coiled like a spring, triggering something instinctual despite the knowledge that the eretich probably wouldn't mess with him. One could hope, at least. Zack was under no illusion that he meant something special to Heath, more lingering than the the appeal of company that wouldn't judge him and would, if anything, only enable his impulses. It was a different niche he filled for him than that human boytoy of his, but it wouldn't be hard to find a replacement for him, someone else from the vampire's motley gang of murder friends. Almost like a deer in the headlights, Zack kept himself limp and relaxed against the couch, taking in the face hovering in front of his, the arms on either side of him, unable to decide if the spike of adrenaline he felt was fear or not. Finally, he spoke. "...A little curious, maybe. I think.." he paused, and continued carefully, for once choosing not to antagonise him or keep pushing him, if only to avoid dragging this out, "if you asked me, I would tell you yes. And I'd warn you not to get too carried away, for your sake as much as mine." He could feel the skin of his neck tingling, like it was physically squirming under the weight of those red eyes, and had to swallow, his Adam's apple bobbing slowly. Would he even get a warning, if, when it happened, or would it just be him and Heath and the sharp, sharp teeth inside that mouth?
Watching Zack's eyes go wide gave Heath a special kind of rush, red eyes flickering with impatience. He was tired of invoking that scared, limp response in Reza; making humans, much less ones that were so unbelievably submissive, frightened wasn't exactly a rush. But seeing the wendigo, a flesh eating monster, actually debating whether or not it was scared, was exhilarating. Gaze flicking to Zack's mouth as he spoke, Heath felt his hands gravitate closer towards Zack, closing the other man in further in the trap. Out from under hooded lids, Heath's eyes shone triumphantly from the confirmation, lips twisting in a smirk. Fangs already poking at his lower lip. Eyes lingering on the tantalizing bob of Zack's Adam's apple, Heath's lips parted just as slowly. The teeth sinking into Zack's neck moved far from slowly, the spot in which Heath wanted to drink from decided long ago, just slightly higher than the crook of his neck, where no bandages covered the skin. The movements in which Heath grabbed the back of Zack's neck, manipulating it to his pleasing, were languid, trained; pushing and tugging at the hair to get his fangs just deep enough. The rich taste of blood hit his tongue and actually, more than just rich-- Heath's mouth watered further as the blood traveled down his neck, tasting distinctly of that death but mostly just of blood. Back arching, Heath's body moved closer, the fact that he wasn't starving actually allowing him to savor the scrumptious taste, like lapping at a pool of the purest of bloods. All those people Zack had snacked on were really providing quite the taste.
The pounding of Zack's heart was loud in his ears as he felt those hands on him, dead cold and not rough, but not particularly gentle, either. He bit down on a hiss when the bite came, face twisting in pain, but forced himself to stay still, not to struggle or let the Wendigo take over. Despite all the romantic notions proposed by every other vampire movie, having two sharp fangs pierce your neck and jab into your blood stream actually felt... exactly the way you would expect it to feel. The faint shock of the bite faded, leaving a sharp, throbbing pain in its wake, seeming to sway with every beat of his heart or every time he could feel suction from Heath's mouth. He was aware, on some level, that Heath had practically draped himself over him, could feel the coolness of the body pressed to his and the tickle of hair against his temple, as he stared at the far end of the room, desperate to keep his eyes open. He stopped himself from squirming, kept his hands still except for digging his fingers into the dusty upholstery of the couch. Zack wet his lips, tried to breathe in normally, and started to count to fifty in his head while wondering when Heath was going to stop, and when to stop him if he didn't. There was an awareness, however faint and prickling, that he might not be able to, a worry he tried to suppress. If nothing else, the Wendigo coming out now would be highly inconvenient.
Heath could feel Zack tensing under his grip, neck tight against his lips, but it wasn't like the eretich pitied him. Zack had agreed to this and Heath was going to enjoy it as long as it was safe for him to continue sucking up the delicious blood, making his throat and insides feel warm with the taste. Hearing the shuddering breath next to it hear, feeling it on his neck, Heath dragged his nails against the back of Zack's head; a small distraction. If he'd had any nectar, he would have offered it to Zack.
Zack could feel himself growing lightheaded, though whether that was the actual blood loss or nerves, he couldn't tell. He should probably put a stop to this - he needed that blood, especially now, when he was still sporting burns from his last outing, burns that ached in a way he was starting to grow aware of again, jostled by every motion Heath made. He felt cold, slender fingers in his hair then, and shuddered faintly at the touch, forcing himself to close his eyes after all. His fingers and toes and limbs were growing tingly - again, not uncommon for blood loss, but rarely involved in so many mixed signals as now, with another body pressed to his. And then the pain seemed to start to grow hazy, distant and echoey, and that felt... not entirely unwelcome. Zack remembered he'd been counting, realised he'd stopped, and started up again. Ten. He'd count to ten and if Heath didn't stop by then, he'd make him. And until then, he'd... enjoy what he could. He couldn't quite see the appeal, but it made him feel alive, and that was something, too.
Feeling the slight shiver pass through Zack's body made Heath smug, lips quirking around the two, fine puncture wounds. He wanted to continue, wanted to drink until the rich taste made him nauseous, but the body cowered underneath his own was losing tension, the muscles uncoiling. Probably time to pull away, anymore and Zack would be in danger of starting to pass out -- which in Zack's case meant transforming into a demonic deer that would swallow Heath whole to reclaim its blood. With one last, good suck and another drag of his nails down Zack's spine, Heath reluctantly pulled his head away. A small trickle of blood ran in a steady stream from the two wounds, Heath saving every drop. And then, mostly because he could but also just for a reaction, Heath took advantage of Zack's slightly parted lips, very well aware that his own carried the bitter taste of iron, but it was Zack's own blood which would hardly invoke a reaction from the wendigo. Even if it did, running from that thing now would be worth it, his fangs poking at Zack's lips as he kissed him, still taking advantage of the grip on Zack's neck.
With every drop of blood that left him, Zack could feel himself slipping, fading away, and the more he faded, the more he could feel it clawing under the surface of him, and it left him grappling at the couch just to keep himself together. The relief when Heath finally pulled away was overwhelming, easily worth the entire ordeal itself, and it left him shaking where he was, on fire from his burns and the pinpoint wounds in his neck and the raking fingers down his spine. Far from it being over, however, the grip on the back of his neck stayed tight, and before he could get his breath back, a wet and sloppy mouth was at his own. Zack couldn't help but gasp into it, his air cut off too abruptly, but it was as if the Wendigo had chosen that moment to surface, and left him leaning into the kiss almost viciously, glad to be himself and glad to be alive, an intensity he rarely got to savour through the apathy in which he seemed to let himself drift through the world. Blood pounding, head light and his blisters burning him up beneath the bandages, Zack grabbed himself a fistful of shirt and all but arched back against him... until several heady moments later, when it occurred to him, somewhere in the animal part of his brain, that the sloppy wetness on Heath's lips was blood, his blood, to be precise, and a sudden influx of both revulsion and an awareness of what he was doing left him pushing Heath away as best as he could. "The fuck are you doing?" Zack sputtered against him, trying to offer him a weak glare, but the way he'd responded not two seconds ago did a number on the credibility of his indignation, and they both knew it.
The weak push to Heath's chest did absolutely nothing to physically move him but luckily, the eretich was being careful, feeling euphoric and content from the meal but still aware of what he was dealing with. So he allowed himself to be shoved away, taking a good step back from the outraged Zack. Smirking, tongue slipping out to gather up that last smear of blood, Heath raked back his hair. "You have been kissed before, right? Don't tell me I was your first," he replied simply, voice saturated with a smug tone, both from the fact that Zack had reacted by pulling him closer and because of the other man's state. The blown pupils, messy hair and faint bite mark gave Heath a lingering sense of accomplishment. Heath knew that most of the indignation was caused by the blood, people were usually put off by the taste of their own blood, which usually just gave Heath more of a kick.
"Fuck you," Zack answered emphatically - both because it was a handy expletive, and because it seemed the one closest to home at the moment. He groaned as he sat back and wiped at his face with the back of his hand, face scrunching up at the smeared blood he could see and feel on himself. As he moved, the fang wounds in the side of his neck made themselves known, angry and hurt, and Zack pressed a palm to it to stem the flow, offering Heath a alf-hearted glare. He couldn't really argue with the way his heart was still racing, not in an altogether unpleasant way, and that, in turn, made it difficult to argue with Heath. "That," Zack said slowly, wincing as he turned his head this way and that, feeling spikes of pain every time, "was nothing like in the movies," he finished heavily, disapprovingly. Not pleasant, not exactly, but... intense. Very intense. Judging by the stupid smirk on the stupid whatever-tick's face right now, though, he was probably aware of that. Zack gave him another glare. "Bring me a towel, would you?" Somewhere between a request and a command. Distantly, he remembered, that Heath had a boyfriend or something, somewhere. Maybe, if he hadn't eaten him - come to think, he hadn't spoken to whatshisname in a while. Maybe this was Heath moving on from a corpse to something warmer. Either way, Zack couldn't quite bring himself to care.
Heath simply hummed in response, head cocking as if he was actually considering Zack's cursing as a request. Now once again dark eyes followed the blood smearing onto Zack's hand, resisting the urge to offer to clean it for him. Zack seemed distraught enough, and Heath was enjoying it, especially since he could hear the wendigo's heart pounding in his chest, could almost feel the adrenaline still running through his veins. "Of course it wasn't." Running his tongue over his teeth, the fangs now mostly retreated back into his gums, Heath actually obeyed Zack's request. The man had let him drink from him, the least he could do was get the poor thing a towel. Returning with cloth, Heath strolled to the back of the couch, pressing the fabric against the still bleeding wounds. "Here you go," he said quietly, voice unnecessarily sultry, a mocking smirk on his lips. Zack's reaction to the kiss was something Heath was going to savor and enjoy taunting him with for as long as he could. Chuckling to himself, Heath then went to fetch another beer for Zack, handing it to him with a wink. "Thanks for the drink."
[[I don’t know why trash drawing in Paint with a mouse is more satisfying, but it is. Some Zack/Heath stuff plus wolf!Nick thrown in there for the fun of it.]
[pm] I’m not trusting someone who doesn’t know what a smart phone is for something important. Besides, I saw how those two handled my vamps. You’d get chopped to pieces and I’d love to see you try and resurrect from that.
[pm] Right, makes sense. Didn’t know they employed scribes that young Well, I’ll stop harassing you now before you rat me out to Reza for annoying you.
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