The transformation bad been… weird, to say the least. Being a vampire wasn’t awful really. The consumption of blood certainly took some getting used to and being dead—even undead—was a lot. He has never faced his mortality before; not of his own volition, at any rate, but there was no denying he was not alive any longer. He did his best not to worry about it though. For whatever reason, he supposed that mortality could come in handy in his line of work. It was hard to kill someone who was already gone. That was what he tried to focus on.
He still hadn’t told his brother and sister about it. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust them. He actually trusted them with his life. It was just… fucking absurd…. And if he was being honest, he was mildly ashamed that he had let his guard down long enough to be changed in the first place. He was better than that but he had let his guard down and he hoped that in the long run, it would be a help to his family instead of a problem. He hadn’t figured out which it was yet and it was stressing him out.
That was how he found himself at the bar, pacing outside the door for a moment before he finally pushed through the door. The light was dim and he was glad for it. He looked…. Rough, and he was fully aware of that. He was pale, the only color he could really see where the dark circles around his eyes giving him the appearance that he hadn’t slept in weeks. His eyes were red, bloodshot, but that was the least of his worries. He could lie about them being contacts and everyone would believe him. He felt drawn and HUNGRY; the scent of the others in the bar almost making him salivate as he slid in at the bar. He did his best to stifle it as he turned back to the counter.
The bartender showed up the , out of nowhere, bright and bubbly and SICKENING. He was too taken aback by his sudden happy appearance to be mad or show how off put he was by his chipperness. “Yeah… I’m good. It’s good. Um…..” he paused and ruffled his hair as the smell of his blood, dog’s blood hit him full force, almost making him gag.
“Yeah, sorry, whiskey, neat.” He didn’t even know if he’d be able to drink anymore but he couldn’t think of anything else to do besides sit there in the dull light and nurse a too-expensive drink anyway.
Doug hesitated when he brought his full attention to the patron in front of him. He was used to the smell of most of the men who came in; a ugly confluence of sweat, cologne, dirt, and sometimes blood mixed in with general muskiness. But this kid - he smelled much more… ripe. Like flesh rotting kind of ripe. His facial muscles twitched, resisting cringing as his nose picked up the correlation. He held himself together, knowing his manners better than to react - but he started to hold his breath.
“You look like you’re younger than me,” Doug remarked skeptically, reaching for a napkin to set on the bar. “Can I see your I.D.?”
