All his employees were humans, Damien didn’t trust his kind enough to not feed on a colleague and at times, when he was left to himself, he would kill and dispose a body, often, of a pretty-faced girl who wandered blindly into his shop so late at night. This potential hunter was safe though, it was too early for murder. Besides, he would never take a life of something pretty without going through the rituals of food and wine– beautiful mortals were savored like desserts, always one after a good meal.
“If you did then the crate would’ve been open,” he remarked simply. He ran his fingers against the edges, catching a whiff of the wine inside. The bottles have been smashed, he was certain and Maud wanted him to know the extent of her displeasure. There was bound to be a letter inside, he’d read it later, the woman did like her love notes and poetry, though this last one, he was certain would be scathing.
She could die of a broken heart for all he cared.
“How will you get back without your shoes?” He pointed out, reminding the woman that his chef had begrudgingly taken her shoes to be cleaned upstairs. Damien approached the woman, his height towering over her and with a tilt of his head, he asked her.
Marcella watched him, his actions were smooth and he spoke too polite and concise for a human. Under further study Marcella would have noticed the slightly pale complexion or the careful manner of walking that all vampires had. She instead was preoccupied that he was still walking to her. Marcella didn’t move back this time, she wanted to be certain he was a vampire and not something else.
“Well since they’re being taken hostage I figured I could come back for them. I have other shoes, they won’t be really missed.” She may be in the middle of podunk nowhere but Marcella never went anywhere without good and eye-catching outfits. Even if it might be cheap and sometimes second hand. “But uhm, yes my feet are cold.” Not to mention her mismatched socks gave away that it was laundry day in the Fuentes house. Her bright blue and purple socks did very little for the menacing and cold exterior she was trying oh so hard to project.
She didn’t like that he had taken to standing close enough that she noticed how much shorter she was than him. Though Marcella often loved guys who were taller than her the types that loomed over her to exert whatever type of authority over her were not exactly her thing. “But I can’t imagine that you’d get too cold in here? With your staff and kitchen of course. All roomy and what not. Unless of course the cold doesn’t bother you?” There was a punctuated pause between the last four words. Was she being cheeky? Yes. Reckless? Possibly since she was weaponless.
