“I heard you the first time,” he gave right back, that touch of a grin lingering at the corner of his mouth, “you don’t breathe.” He could see how it could be unsettling to some, that lack of proof of life. He’d seen plenty of dead bodies in his time, and having a corpse on his living room floor wasn’t a first. It was, however, a first knowing that he’d be up and moving at some point. And Sam, being Sam, saw more benefits to the notion than not.
Watching him, it took some effort not to let that grin take over – he was rambling again, and while it had become something he appreciated it, the zombie’s ramblings usually left Sam with a million more questions than he started with. “So if you don’t sleep, you’re just, what? Dead?” He didn’t flat out ask what the point was, because even he knew that was rude. Still, it hovered.
The gargoyle gave away more of himself these days than he did before, useless bits of information – though, he’s learned nothing is ever really useless to a determined person – so there was a part of him that could understand the closed off nature that was May. Which was why Sam willing gave whenever the other did. The two were similar in more ways than what people would assume, and he liked to keep an even playing field as much as he could.
In his space, he kept a close eye on the other’s expression, watched the way his mouth moved as he issued that warning. Serious as it may have been, Sam let out a little snort of a laugh. It was no threat to him, he quite liked the violence that some people could carry with him. He leaned in, his head dipping down to come closer to May’s. “Then bite me.” He had half a mind to run his thumb along his lips, but he still wasn’t quite sure how quick either one of them were, should he want to save that finger. Instead, he dragged the very tip of his thumb over his bottom lip. A quick, sweeping motion to tug.
Surprisingly, he was speaking again, though. And despite all the efforts to try and keep everything to himself, Sam was selfish. Admittedly so. Beyond the fascination and interest he let show for the other, there was an appreciation and understanding, and it wasn’t often he found that with others. Not like this, never in such a dark way.
There were depths in their respective histories that went untouched, undiscovered by anyone. Save for Aidan, finding someone you didn’t have to hamper that with was unheard of here.
And he wanted it. Greedily. Obsessively. Selfishly.
So he pushed, albeit a bit aggressively for most, but he knew no other way.
“You still think this is just about twisted curiosities?” The corner of his mouth twitched, the quick flash of an amused grin. “You think I’ve sought you out and asked you to stay because you amuse me?” This time, he did let out a laugh. That low rumble of a sound that seemed to stop just at the base of his throat.
Explanations had never been a strong suit for him, in any matter. But explaining himself had always been an impossibility. His hands against his face adjusted, found an even sturdier position as fingers slid down to the sides of his neck. He wasn’t quite sure what to say, but how am I supposed to help keep you alive if I don’t know hardly seemed like it was it.
Already on edge, he always was when a situation felt outside the scope of what he knew to expect and Sam had certainly dug himself right into that spot very well, May said nothing. He was hit, again, with that frustrating feeling that he had allowed himself to venture too far, talk too much, and there he was feeling as though he had was doing such a poor job of keeping himself in check around him.
He carried that tension on even his best days, absolutely loathing the tiny possibility that his intentions could be turned on him and had stepped right into some too comfortable spot of speaking too freely. It's not for the sake of kindness, Sam isn't kind, not in a way that doesn't leave bruises and only lurks in ways that feel as much like demands as they do offers to help.
He was intensely angry at himself for it, some of it overlapped into anger at the world but by far more of it burned knowing he was willingly allowing Sam to ask those questions.
"Yeah." The dry mutter was what it was, and clearly all he had to say on the matter even if there was more of an explanation than simply that. His jaw practically ached from how tight he held it and how he refused to speak. By then it was simple stubborn nature that kept trying to shut Sam out as much as possible because he already knew the mistake he had made; he'd let gt past that wall in the first place.
Not nearly as bad a choice as the uncomfortable realization that he talked to Sam because, as much of an asshole as the guy was, he still hadn't been half as bad as he was used to people being. Maybe he had some smartass remark for nearly everything May said but the same could be said from the other side of the equation. And damn him for not getting tired of it, too soon to judge that of course but Sam had lasted out longer than other people and even in that lay a bitterness like bile on his tongue.
The cruelest things the world ever offered came in something good that broke apart, hollow like old bones, when something shifted and pressure fell upon them. It was only a joke, to think that anything lasted more than an instant.
"Apparently you'd get off on it or something." He grumbled, all the more determined to keep his teeth to himself with the taunting but some of it wasn't entirely in his control, he could feel the pounding in his head even more acutely the longer Sam touched him. He did try to recoil but the effort was flawed, hindered by that grip or the lack of actual desire to do so because he could no longer separate one from the other. It was an ugly game, Sam's self-assurance was dangerous; the man didn't know that place where the worst of it lay, all the bone-snapping, spilt blood and the world twisted out of focus.
"I really hate you." He was tempted to snap at him anyway, see how much Sam enjoyed it when the taste of blood really set him off and had to deal with all the claws, teeth and snarling anger that went with it, the monster that served May better than he cared to admit because it understood the world was simply something that devoured and deserved the same in return. Any lapse held the possibility of not coming back from it though and the fear in that was what always cornered him, still, even knowing one day he likely would be so tired embracing it would be welcomed end.
"I don't know why you do anything." He might have guessed at motives but did he ever truly know why people did anything at all? "For a second I did but that's the damnest thing about being dead; once your heartbeat stops all over again the world comes back into focus." Sam's kindness was one with claws, that didn't frighten him, the uneasiness came from a different place; the looming change in that. Monsters were monsters, after all, and his brand was one that would always go for the throat, even Sam's if it came to it.
Very aware of those thin bones, how close to the surface of faintly cool skin they were, the most resounding trick nature had ever played on him was in making so much to him delicate. Sam's fingers rested at spots that he knew, having little doubt how strong the man must have been for all the bizarrity of what he was, could have snapped with less effort than most. It was tempting, if only for an instant, to push him that far, just to see what he might do. That laugh sounded like a growl and for all the twisted notion there was something more inviting in the sound because of it.
"What sort of fucked up thought ever got into your head that I'm any different than anyone else out there, we're all black and blue under the surface, bleeding out." It wasn't a question that he wanted any answer for, his eye was clouding red at the edges, he could taste the hint of his own blood from somewhere at the back of his throat and May was tired, he wouldn't have understood any answer given until he was ready to. Something about saying it though brought an odd comfort.
"I'm dead, how do you think I survive?" May's voice hit a tone lower, a drag of words that tasted like betrayal of himself on his lips. But he had never encountered this before, never found a monster that tested his own in such a raw way. "I kill, I eat, I know every disgusting, bloody part inside people because I've tasted it and I don't care. I do every damnable thing I have to and at the end of the day if it's me surviving or someone else it's always going to be me."
And that was the monster under his skin, the one in his mind and the one he was; that laid bare he waited to see the smirk die on Sam's lips.
