"Why are you always so nice to me? You have no reason to be. You're an ancient, right? And I've barely made it past a century. You're not my maker. You don't owe me anything... But still, you treat me with nothing but kindness. I don't get it."
Dhante gave a sudden chortle. He often forgot his age, and it often got him into trouble. He was always being told by other ancients, sometimes those younger than him, that he was far too wild. That he acted as though he were a fledgling vampire. Dhante didn’t care so much when he was told this, he preferred it over being called old. There were so many expectations that came with being an ancient, and he wanted none of it. “I’m not one for stuffy houses and clusters of books. I would much rather be out among my friends, and you Emily, are one of my closest friends. I couldn’t dream of treating you any other way.” He said with yet another warm smile.
