Night 57: M11-M20 Hallway
Easing into his work shirt and jacket was less painful than it'd been last night. It still didn't feel good. Indy went back to the box, coiled his makeshift whip over his right shoulder and tucked the holstered brush axe through one of his belt loops. That and the shield were all the gear he planned to take. He doubted he'd be making too many notes
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Whatever. He plunged the needle in with a quick motion. The puncture pain was pretty short, and not a lot to pay attention to compared with other things. Drowning in blood came to mind. Pulling back on the syringe to begin the draw using the same hand holding the damn needle was easier said than done, but with a lot of uncomfortable jiggling he was successful.
His arm was also starting to turn purple. That was... probably a bad sign. If he punctured an artery donating blood to a vampire, did that count as a supernatural death?
Of course not. He was really, really stupid.
Keeping the full syringe steady in one hand, he rummaged back in the bag for some of the bandages he'd gotten with the bruised one, which was going beyond just being purple and was beginning to feel sore. Ow. Since all he could do now was press down on the leftover hole with the bandages, that was what he would do.
Alaric moved to the barrier, noting exactly where Damon's fingers had been pressing against the air like a mime. Between two fingers, he held the syringe out past the barrier.
"Is that enough? I mean, skipping all the it's never going to be enough, vampire insatiability, et cetera."
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"Not that we didn't already cover this, but yes. It will do." For tonight, at any rate.
Damon took the syringe between the same two fingers with a delicate flourish. The smell of blood was metallic and sharp for a few seconds. A drop clung to the tip of the needle without falling.
"Thank you." Barest hint of sincerity there, but that it was said at all was worth marking on the calendar.
And how long was Rick planning on staying inside his room, anyway? Really, now. For one, he was no more interested in killing Rick than he'd been a week ago. For another, people always overestimated the kind of protection the little invitation rules provided and forgot that if you were determined enough, it wasn't that hard to let out a bit of one's inner pyromania.
But hey, whatever made him feel better while Damon was drinking his blood-which he did now, tipping the syringe into his mouth. An actual glass might've been nice, but it'd been days, thank you, and the blood was warm over his tongue. Mm. Sort of made him wonder if Isobel had ever thought about having a taste of her ex.
Or not. She undoubtedly had.
He could use more-he knew Rick would give more if he said he needed it; wouldn't do to have him slaughter anyone, of course-but this wasn't the first time he'd done the whole...long-term commitment thing. He knew how much someone could give without turning into Morticia Addams by the end of the day. Damon was all for using Rick, but he wasn't interested in using him up.
He flipped the empty syringe, stained red, over in his hand and tossed it towards Rick.
"I wouldn't throw that away just yet." He started away from the door. "You coming, or are you still flattering yourself thinking I'll kill you over a pinprick of your blood?"
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And it wasn't... flattery. It was vampire hunter wariness. It probably didn't help that Alaric's main interactions with vampires had been with newbies - like Logan - and those who couldn't drink human blood reasonably - Stefan.
Okay, look. He just was completely out of his element here. He could admit that.
"I don't think you even need the excuse to kill me," he responded nonchalantly, placing the caught needle back in the toolbox. He'd have to figure a way to clean it somehow without questions. Yeah. Easier said than done, he was sure. Alaric grabbed his flashlight and the box cutter he'd nicked, being a little less nonchalant about crossing through the barrier out of his room.
"And what is your grand scheme for tonight? More random exploration?"
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He never said they were good excuses to the general public. Although they were perfectly valid in his opinion. Anyway, he'd only killed Rick when RIck had tried to kill him first, so he was hardly the one in the wrong here.
With that thought, Damon shifted about half an inch to let Rick through, forcing him to brush by. Oh, was he supposed to give more room than that? His mistake. Also, wow. Box cutter, huh. Arming yourself to the teeth, Rick. You could definitely defend yourself if UPS attacked.
His eyes followed Rick out, and then he moved to join him.
"You say that like you've had better plans. Or you know. Plans in general." Look, so far, he was the only one recruiting various people to get shit done. The fact that a good percentage of it had fallen through or that Rick had died a couple of times was irrelevant. That was not his fault. Nobody told Rick to play human shield. Plus, he came back.
Damon gestured to the left at a fork in the hallway. "That way. We're making a house call."
One Elena and Stefan hadn't specifically asked for, but that was...also irrelevant. They needed to talk, so they were gonna talk. The two of them playing at lovebirds could wait.
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