Night 57: M11-M20 Hallway

[its_the_mileage]

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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[saviored]

The closer night drew, the less willing he was to play more of the sit and wait game. Plus, when most of his productivity went into getting blood-let's just say it made things about as efficient as the Council's vampire hunting. At least tonight, it wouldn't be a bet. Rick could bail on him. Of course he could. But he wouldn't. The threat of dead blonde girls worked wonders for motivation.

Granted, there might be a dead blonde girl regardless, but not until he got out of her a) this long lost twin business and b) eliminated her as a prospective donor. She still had promise. And while he knew he could always use Rick-it wasn't the same

[deathandgin]

It was a cliché, but: saying he wasn't looking forward to this was an understatement. What a lot of people probably wouldn't understand is that a good portion of his - whatever - with Damon relied on the fact that he made an effort of separating himself from the vampire aspects. That was about as difficult as someone could expect it to be. As it was, he had never watched Damon drink blood. That was... kind of an important detail. It helped to remember that there was something human in him, under all the issues and a century of being a complete dick.

And it was gross. Human squeamishness. People didn't want to see other people eating parts of other other people. Sue him.

But now? Well, today was his first time being blackmailed into donating blood. Usually there were cookies and orange juice involved, which worked a hell of a lot better motivating him. Any way he looked at it, it was blackmail. Damon knew he couldn't let some other patient give up their life for the sake of hunger. Here he was, all nice and convenient and willing,

[saviored]

The way he was reacting, you'd think Damon had asked to take a bite out of him instead of being a polite ten feet away and waiting, which was not, he'd like to point out, something he did very often when it came to feeding. And by not very often, he meant not at all.

Damon raised a hand in a placating gesture-completely genuine. Of course. But hey, he did let it go, so if there was a smile playing on his lips, that was small thing to put up with.

He thought so, anyway.

"Oh, I can keep you company well enough from over here." He walked his fingers up the invisible barrier. A little like touching solid air. He watched, one eyebrow raised, as Rick pull out the syringes. Could the man move any slower? But if he was impatient, it only showed in a lightly tapping finger against the door frame.

Points for the method, though. Drawing blood was one way to do it and, to Rick, it must've seemed less like throwing himself to the sharks than putting a blade to his wrist.

To Damon? Same either way. He supposed it made a slight difference, if

[deathandgin]

"Lucky me," he grumbled with a tone that suggested he wasn't exactly all that lucky. Alaric concentrated on not letting Damon's presence distract him; he fist his hand, allowing the easiest vein he knew - the one near the joint of the elbow - to come to the surface. Even though he couldn't really see it... and he was doing this without a tourniquet. Good life choices and him didn't really go together well.

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

[saviored]

Well, that was a healthy color.

"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

[deathandgin]

The teacher rolled his eyes, nursing the bruised arm with gentle ministrations of his fingers. Yeah, that was gonna sting for a couple of days. Maybe next time he should just split open a finger. The whole point was he didn't want Damon's mouth near him. Ever.

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?"

[saviored]

Damon threw Rick a faux-offended look. "What're you talking about, I always have an excuse for killing people. Like boredom."

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

[deathandgin]

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