Daniel Molloy really is the character ever, huh. Like. Youre a twenty something reporter, coked out of your mind without a dollar to your name who stumbles across flesh and blood vampires in the middle of a gay bar. Instead of shitting yourself immediately and running away, you decide to keep going with the interview you didn’t actually think would be happening (you thought you were going to hook up bdsm coffin style with the complete stranger in his apartment, that you told no one you were going to, by the way, in peak serial killer 1970’s San Francisco.) You have a SCREAMING match with said vampire about his shitty french ex boyfriend, (clearly a very sensitive topic, he’s just spent the last three hours ranting about him in what you assume is a coke addled breakdown), and get SURPRISED when you’re turned into a living chew toy???!! His very hot boyfriend wrestles him off you, and oh, great, you’re safe now, right? WRONG. SIX DAYS OF PSYCHOLOGICAL TORTURE, because apparently your natural charisma is so frustrating to this guy it warrants him rooting around your brain like a pick and mix.
Youre a septuagenarian with Parkinson’s, and you get an email asking you to go BACK to see these dudes again, and you GO. Alright man. Sure. Whatever.
