Jonovan gains a wicked, but well-intended smile as Anton dances around the veritable, if sparse, minefield that is his personality. “You aren’t completely in the wrong for being afraid, young one,” he hums rather cryptically, his lip drawing back in a more toothy smile than the others. His mouth is lined with bright, sharp teeth, and as friendly as the gesture is, something about it is inherently spine-tingling.
“It’s fine to not trust me. You don’t know me,” he assures, still smiling slightly, “And I barely know you. I could know you, if you’d allow me…” He outstretches one hand, pale with thin skin, fingers tipped with those long, black talons, palm up. Paired with his gentle smirk, it’s not the most trustworthy of gestures, but it’s clear that he’s trying not to impose.
He then, after a few moments, draws his claws back to listen, leaning in. “Oh, naturally. I follow the same logic. Of course, you probably have to feed more often than a few times a month.”
Anton mentions a demon, and the degree to which Jonovan is invading his space quickly becomes a slight bit overbearing. “A hunger demon? Mmm, that explains it…” He doesn’t dare elaborate, his already-small pupils cutting that slight bit tighter for a moment. “Intriguing. I may have pegged you wrong at first.”
Well, if the man meant to calm him with those words and that manner of response, it in fact did the opposite. Anton was already beginning to regret his invitation, but saw no way to rescind it without potentially angering his strangely intimidating company.
He’d have to think of something later.
“I prefer to know people through words first, before anything else. But thank you for the offer. That said - no. I don’t know you, not at all. Not even your scent - though Nigel might. He’s older than I am, though I know not how much.” Enough that he’d been serving the family for a long time, judging by paintings and photos he’d found.
Nigel himself had implied work with multiple families, so a good few hundred years sounded accurate.
“Every few days, at minimum. My desire to keep the public’s panic down, aside; I prefer it that way anyway - having been human once before, it’s hard not to try and keep to that same schedule.” He even had yet to break the habit of eating regular food, even though he didn’t need to. “Can you blame me for sticking to a schedule I’m already comfortable with~?” Nigel didn’t seem to care.
Perhaps it was something that changed with age?
“He would hunt regularly - I would drink the blood of his kills, and he would then eat the body.” Anton continued, eyes narrowing once again at the Count’s sudden closeness. He couldn’t help but lean away, wildly uncomfortable with the invasion of his space. “It was something of a symbiotic partnership. I wouldn’t say it’s harder without him, but it’s certain become quieter.” Mostly in good ways. Good lord but Clive and his girlfriend had been... loud.
“I’m sorry, but can I help you with something?” His tone was the smallest bit clipped, Anton once again tense. If he didn’t feel so endangered, Anton would have snapped for the intrusion of his space. “And how exactly did you ‘have me pegged’ that my choice of roommate over two years ago, changes it?”
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