Soul Windows

Faelan shows Kathryn a glimpse of vampirism.


Clad in a pale red, short-sleeved trenchcoat that's left unbuttoned over a black tanktop and jeans, Faelan rings the doorbell. His moderately long auburn hair is left hanging free around his face, and he stands composed in the hallway outside the apartment when the door is opened. His attention had been distant, and he carries a small plastic bag devoid of any revealing logo in his left hand. When Kathryn comes to the door, however, his rather statuesque attention abruptly snaps into animated life. Attentiveness and vigor animate what had been entirely still a moment before.

"Good evening, miss. I brought some wine, if you don't mind, to celebrate the occasion of a more staid and lesiurely visit to your home. The circumstances of our parting last were… hectic, to say the least. I apologize for my inattention."

Hauling open the heavy door with a heave of slender limbs, there's little choice for the inhabitant but to fling it wide, rather than peek through a slight ajar. Good thing she knew who was expected. With a warm, if rather tired, smile for her guest, Kathryn regards his unusually animated expressions with the arch of one brow, seeming, if anything, vaguely amused. "Good evening, Faelan." she replies, contrastingly simple in her greeting as she steps aside, making room for him to pass. Is she deliberately omitting a spoken invitation? Probably. Curiosity, cat.. you know the drill.

The young woman is casually attired, unlike the vampire with whom she's sharing company this evening. White cotton lounge pants and a simple strappy top apparently suffice for her, when she's not under the scrutiny of the world. That scarlet mane is loose about her shoulders, as always, of course. "Please don't apologise. You were fantastic, under the circumstances.. it's me who should be sorry, for putting you in such a position." She waits, bracing a bare shoulder against the door's edge to keep it open for him.

The invitation game is something that Faelan notes with a smirking curve of his lips and he continues to stand in the hall, waiting likewise. A slight shrug of his shoulders removes the already loose jacket from his shoulders, and it slides down towards his elbows slowly. The man does nothing to still its descent and it eventually bunches around his forearms, at which point he slides an arm out of it, switches the bundle to his free hand, and removes the garment altogether. It's draped over a forearm, and his black tanktop reveals the lines of tattoos across his back and the musculature of his shoulders. "So are you going to invite me in?" he inquires unnecessarily, somewhat amused at the unspoken implications.

Baiting her curiosity with the response, Faelan moves inside anyway, slipping past her and into the room. "What a terrible restriction to be belabored by," he reflects absently, making his way towards the ivory suede couch and taking a seat. "I did mean to apologise… I claimed you without asking your thoughts on the matter. I thought it a prudent decision, but it'll be circulated. To touch you is tantamount to a direct attack on my person and I can respond in kind, in the bylaws of vampiric etiquette. As I am a rather unpleasant person to attack, that means you should be safe."

There's an answering tug of a smile at the corner of Kathryn's lips as her guest simply steps inside, before she simply lowers a demure gaze to the ground and quietly presses the door closed with a palm. Playing games? Her? Never. A flit of a glance steals across Faelan's shoulders, taking in the inked artwork across his skin, though she makes no comment upon it for the time being. "Let me." Her arms are offered forward, one slightly bent to accept his coat, the other bearing an expectant hand for the bag he holds.

The apartment is beautifully decorated; tasteful style making up for the lack of actual luxury. It's homely and inviting.. and somehow it's so obviously -hers-. Assuming the offering is handed over, the young woman pads through a pair of french doors into the kitchen beyond, setting the bottle neatly down on the counter and Faelan's coat in a drape beside it. "Yes, you did rather." she replies, in regard to his open claim upon her. "In front of almost every vampire in the city, I assume. But I think if you hadn't, I would have been dessert." Turning toward one of the upper cabinets, she reaches for two simple wine glasses, then hesitates, looking over a shoulder toward him. "..I take it you do -want- some wine? Anyway.. yes, it was something of a surprise. But if it's only for the purposes of keeping me 'safe', then it's fine.." Taking out the pair of vessels anyway and placing them gently down, the redhead goes on a hunt through the numerous drawers, presumably for a corkscrew. "..or.. I'm sorry, I don't know the -polite- way to ask this, Faelan. Was it a genuine claim, or a bullshit one to prevent a horrible mess?"

"Thank you," Faelan offers in response to the taken coat and wine bottle, allowing her to head to the kitchen with both of them unimpeded. He settles back on the couch, bare arms lightly resting on the top of the piece of furniture as he makes himself comfortable. Some hint of nostalgia settles on his features while Kathryn's in the other room, and it takes him a moment to wipe it from his face and leave the satisfaction behind. His eyes shift to track the woman and he gets up slowly to his feet as he listens to her, making his way towards the wine bottle.

One of his fingers stabs into the cork, punching in neatly and impaling the stopper. He pulls it out with a hollow 'pop' and a fizzing of the spirits, the aroma of the drink making its way out of the bottle once freed. He removes the cork from his finger, dropping it lightly onto the counter next to the bottle while he thinks over her question.

"In a way, it was a genuine one. It /is/ a commitment on my part, Kathryn. A sincere one that does entail spilling my blood on your behalf if the situation should arise. I suppose you could call it bullshit because I had a primary ulterior motive beyond marking you as mine, mainly your survival. But that makes the action no less.. authentic." He moves to return to his seat, adding as an afterthought, "Yes, please. I do enjoy that vintage." His lips turn upwards momentarily, and he places his hands on his knees. "The two Vampires who wanted to make you dessert were the lieutentant of the Master of the city, and the host of the party. I thought it was a prudent decision, given the circumstances."

Kathryn pauses again, mid-stride between cabinets this time, and watches wryly as the vampire makes short work of the wine-cork. Well, that saves hunting any longer. Stepping back to the counter, once Faelan takes his leave once more, the young woman carefully pours two equal measures into the waiting glasses. "So, you already -felt- I was your responsibilty, having brought me there… and the situation made it necessary to make that the case, in reality. Fabulous." She doesn't sound particularly upset about suddenly being considered the 'property' of a vampire. Or maybe she's just hiding it well? "It was prudent, I'm not arguing that. I just didn't mean to force you into being burdened with my protection, all for the sake of a party."

There's a telling few moments of quiet before she speaks again, still from the kitchen. "That women, she's the lieutenant? She seemed far less… aggressive, than the other one. But I suppose I still really don't know much of anything about your world." The sound of quiet footsteps approaching herald her return to the main room, and she extends a hand toward Faelan as she moves. But it's not a wine glass that's offered. A sheaf of beautiful, cream-colored parchment glides toward a settle in his lap, tri-folded and weighty. "Not to impugne your formidable reputation."

The center of the page contains just one sentence.

"No one of importance ever got anywhere by having their hand held."

It is not signed, though it does have a deceptively lovely scent that seems to emanate from the 'ink'.'

Snatching the parchment out of the air with a blurring motion, Faelan raises it to unfold with his thumb and read it. He considers in stillness before he sets it down on the coffee table in front of him. His exhale follows slowly, palms coming to a rest on his knees, and his pale green gaze looks askance at the woman. He blinks once, choosing to respond to her early commentary first before delving into the particulars of his newly presented object. "I feel that if I invite someone to a party, it's not proper to stand by and allow them to become the main course," he says, watching her progress. His mouth slowly regains its amused smirk. "I understood the risks when I invited you. I didn't think I would have the misfortune of being escorted by a radiance that would cause envy in the vampires that flocked to me.."

Mildly hyperbolic humor laces his tone, though there is a degree of seriousness to it. "Aggression is a very difficult thing to define. But yes, she was." His eyes fall to the letter which he had set on the coffee table. "How interesting. Are you receiving fortune cookies in the mail now?"

Having halted by the arm of Faelan's chosen couch, arms folded, the young woman seems content to wait and watch, neither impatient or expectant. Resigned, really. Though the twisted and veiled compliment in the vampire's commentary does elicit a faint smile. "I think it was more to do with hunger than macabre desire. But thank you. I think."

Leaving him, briefly, to consider the abrupt letter - still looking a little dazed, subtly, by the speed with which it was snatched from thin air - Kathryn goes to fetch the wine, returning with a glass in each hand. One is offered to Faelan as she passes, heading for one of the high-backed armchairs to one side. "Yes, apparently. Short, mysterious, presumably writting in blood, fortune cookies."

Tucking her feet up beneath herself, she settles into her seat, propping one elbow on the arm and thoughtfully dangling her wine-glass from a thumb and forefinger. "I think… perhaps it would be best for me to learn more about this world of yours. Since I seem to getting drawn into it, regardless. I don't want to publish anything you tell me. I just.. I really don't understand the point of things like…" Her forefinger extends from the fragile glass, indicating the parchment. "..that. Or any of it, really. And while yes, obviously, I want to for selfish purposes, even now.. I think it may be 'prudent', too."

Taking the glass when it's offered, Faelan takes a moment to drink the wine. He doesn't just sip it, however. The full taste seems to be something he savors, and he finishes the contents of the glass all at once, setting it down on the coffee table once it's done. His fingers find the parchment again and he studies it again for a moment before discarding it once more to the tabletop. "'That'," he indicates the letter with a look of his pale eyes, shifting to lay his shoulders back against the support of the couch, "Is a couple things. One is that it's an enticement. The second is that it's pointing out that having a 'patron' like me is undesirable, presumably because I'm getting in the way of something. The third is that it's a segue into something, though exactly what is difficult to tell. That's mostly due to the anonymity." His lips compress momentarily. "I'm going to be having a conversation with Mister See because of you, you know. I'm sure that'll be interesting."

Despite the off-hand comment, is Faelan.. actually concerned? He's never displayed nerves before to Kathryn, but his anxiety manifests as a cold, precise thing, like clockwork. "So yes. Since I suddenly seem to be rather invested, I suppose it would be prudent." Amusement briefly turns his lips like wildfire into a smile at some hidden irony, and he raises his eyes to meet those of Kathryn where she sits. He holds it for a moment, considering how to proceed.

"I can.. try showing you. That would be best. But understand. My view of this world is distinctly different from others of my kind. My particular preferences are as sure a tint as rose-colored glasses, and others won't view it the same way."

The reporter similarly eyes the offending vellum atop her coffee-table, looking vaguely unsettled. Thank God for wine. Taking a small sip, she nods her understanding of Faelan's suggestions as to the motive, but offers no particular weight to any one. Only a gentle, non-commital 'hmm'. Then something else snags her attention, her green eyes wandering back up just in time to meet the vampire's gaze. "Mister See..?" It's voiced with nonchalance, but she's obviously curious. "And what about me? Your claim?"

Her attention lingers upon Faelan, noting every subtle admission of his being… something other than entirely alright with the notion. How odd. It must be of importance, to get a reaction of any sort from him. And then, just as swiftly, she leaves him to his thoughts for a moment, twisting her upper body a little in order to set her wineglass down on a sidetable by her chair. Rearranging her seat, she draws her knees up and sits cross-legged instead, resting her hands idle atop her knees. "You mentioned that idea before. Showing me, I mean. What, exactly, would that entail..?" Again, she seems prefectly calm about it all. But there's a wariness to her features now. After all, it seems most of the vampires she's had the pleasure of meeting have been rather inclined to preying upon her, one way or another. It says something that Faelan's here at all, but plainly she's gauging the situation with care. For once.

"Mister See is the vampire in charge of Las Vegas at the moment," Faelan explains quietly, watching Kathryn thoughtfully. The muscles of his arms shift as he drums his fingers on his knees in slow rhythm while she speaks, and he continues the habit after she finishes. It fills the time between his words and his next response, during which he considers. "I don't know precisely what he wants, but I have a feeling I'm going to be interacting with him relatively soon. It's a hunch, but.. our little chat seems to have caused some ripples. Telling you is against my better judgment, but on the off chance that things go south.." His lips quirk upwards. "I thought you should know."

His right hand raises, and he beckons Kathryn to him. "Come here. Closer eye contact is easier, as is touch. It will involve experiencing my memories, from my perspective. I can show you something harmless, to demonstrate the process. If that will make it easier for you to decide." One of his brows raises slightly, accompanying the suggestion.

"Oh." is the rather lame response to that snippet of information, and Kathryn's eyes drift floor-ward for a long moment. Surely the infamous reporter isn't having a pang of conscience? She presses her lips in a firm line, exhales softly, then forces herself to look up again. There's no apology.

Rising smoothly, unfurling her legs and setting down her bare feet, the young woman pauses only for a hasty gulp of wine. Dutch courage. Then she's moving toward the vampire. It's quite the picture of naievete, the trust she places in him. Obviously her piqued interest outweighs her common sense. A lot.

Hesitating, she waits for him to direct her further, her expression revealing a nervous excitement.. and perhaps a touch of trepidation. "I suppose that might be best, yes." she agrees, nodding down at Faelan slowly. "No point jumping in at the deep end and finding I can't swim, is there?"

"That's right, Kathryn. You won't have to worry about drowning." His pale green eyes briefly shift to note the wine consumption, and Faelan smiles slightly. "The wine will help with the jolting sensations. I've always found it easier to do this on drunken humans.. while I don't need you more than buzzed for this, I imagine it'll be easier on you." One of his hands rises up to lightly cup against her jaw, fingers brushing lightly against her warm skin. He bites down on his lower lip for a moment, though his fangs aren't in evidence, and he exhales momentarily. Gathering himself, he raises his green eyes to meet her gaze, murmuring, "Sit." The hand drops down to her bare shoulder, his palm pressing against her skin and guiding her onto the couch. "I'm not sure how long this will take. Make yourself comfortable."

The hand returns to her face, though only the slight pressure of fingertips follows this time. "I had only recently awoken," he begins speaking softly, and the images are compelled from his eyes across to hers. The brush of his finger is electric, transmitting supplementary sensations as he begins the mesmer.

..murky, watercolor silhouettes of a building's interior swim to the fore of Kathryn's consciousness. A voice, speaking from great distance, "The moon was bright out the window," a splash of white, slowly defining itself into a sphere of silver, "The answering machine's light glowed crimson with three new messages." Darkness, silver backlit, a burning number flickering in and out of existence against black. "I couldn't think clearly, the hunger assailed me. But cold blood in the fridge, kept preserved by medical means, would be enough." The lighting changes, shifts. Black on black, navigating through shadows towards an expansive blockish object. Suddenly a glare of light, so intense on the eyes that everything squints to black. Only tingling sensation remains, frosty touch and slick plastic. "Enough to wake me up. It was relatively fresh. Waste not, want not. The life hadn't completely left it, yet."

A soft clanking sound, like a decanter being arranged. The touch of objects, the vertigo of movement, all without the aid of sight. The light of the fridge still burns uncomfortably, even though the darkness-attuned eyes are shut. The sound splash of liquid being poured. And hunger.. so /hungry/. A hollow ache in the stomach, forcing the thoughts along precise, cruel lines that only ended in satiation. All other extraneous thoughts are choked out by the overwhelming need. And then..

Kathryn's apartment swims back into focus, and Faelan exhales shakily, releasing the redheaded woman and leaning back against the couch with a shiver.

Seating herself carefully on the couch, barely stirring the plush cushions as she eases her slight weight down, Kathryn swallows reflexively, her mouth suddenly dry. But she doesn't recoil from Faelan's hand and her gaze remains steadily upon his features, despite the momentary suppression of.. something.. in his expression. The young woman remains very still, though her suddenly thudding heartbeat is audible, even to her own duller senses. Ohhh, this could be such a bad idea. But when has that ever stopped her?

At first, she's attentive. Watchful. She's looking -at- his eyes. But gradually, inevitably, that intense spark of vigor fades back, leaving only empty space, expectant of new memories. Hollow. There's a vague sense of a flinch. Not enough pull her away but… a defensive response, from somewhere in her subconscious. These are not sensations humans ought to experience, after all. And a very deeply-ingrained part of her knows it and shrinks back in revulsion. She lets it go.

Focusing on the pinpoint-sharp motivations of the scene playing out in her mind, as if from a greater distance even than Faelan's lulling baritone, the woman's thoughts are all at once entirely absent, and furiously deciphering what she's shown. The raw needs are broken down, brought to something a mortal might understand but close enough in depiction. For a blinding, silently screaming instant, she's looking at the world through a predator's eyes.

Perhaps more disturbingly… her attention draws sharply into focus, no longer with a trace of disgust. She's pushed it aside. And that fascination borders on dangerous, for one not designed to comprehend it. Not really.

When Faelan releases her, the redhead gasps, as if suddenly recalling the rather basic need to draw oxygen into her lungs. And simply stares at him, her pupils dilated and dark, with only a sliver of emerald encircling them.

The exertion was obviously greater than Faelan was expecting, as he draws shallows breaths in through his own lips in a habit of stress that he never quite kicked, after dying. The red-head pushes himself into an upright seated posture, dismissing the support of the couch. It's obvious he's never done anything like that before, and fatigue spiderwebs through his expression until he gets it back under control and regains his poise. "That.." he murmurs quietly, "went better than I expected." He raises a brow momentarily, slowly lowering his hand from her face and returning it to his lap. He continues to meet her gaze, waiting. His breathing gradually slows and comes to a halt.

"Is that what you were looking for?" He asks softly, his head canting slightly to the side. He looks at her in proximity, suddenly, and it takes an expression of discipline to avoid staring at the flesh of her warm skin and heaving chest, the pounding heartbeat.. the memories of hunger come to the fore and drive him by instinct, but he suppresses them with only a compress of his lips. He doesn't withdraw, though for a moment he is.. very distracted.

Blinking rapidly, then shaking her head a little, as if seeking to physically clear the fog behind her eyes, Kathryn at last seems to resettle her -own- gaze, both in her possession and upon the vampire beside her. "I.. don't know what I was expecting.." she ventures, very quietly in her silky accent. "But.. it was very vivid, certainly. I didn't.." She trails off. How can you even begin to describe something like that? And really, is there any need to? With breathlessly parted lips, she simply continues to watch Faelan, seeming unaware of his cool fingertips drifting away from her cheek. Gradually, something begins to dawn on her, as her wits are gathered.

"Are -you- alright..?" The enquiry is accompanied by a concerned expression to darken her brow a little, even as the wide pupils of her eyes shrink back to their normal, human scope. "I didn't hurt you, did I?" She noted the fractional wince, then, much as he may try to mask it. Only she misinterpreted it gravely. The lingering heady aftereffect of what just took place perhaps numbs the instincts that would usually have her putting distance between them, whether she realised it or not. For a precarious few moments more, at least, she's not afraid of him. She's -worried- about him.

"Yes, I.." Raising one of his hands slowly to rake his red hair out of his face, Faelan closes his eyes and shivers a second time as he fights down the hunger. Having fed before arriving at the apartment helped his case, and the fulfilled craving is much easier to tame than it might otherwise have been. The wildness has left his gaze when he opens his pale eyes again, and he looks over her slowly, ending by meeting her gaze. He inhales a slow breath, expelling it through his lips and shaking his head. "I'm all right." Concern from another about his well-being is a foreign thing to him, and he doesn't quite know what to make of it. Some part of him deep down desires to cave into it and explore this strange sensation it places upon him, but.. habitual wariness keeps him from doing so.

"I.. it's not my strong point, things like that. I'll need to practice," he admits quietly, raising a hand to shift a few displaced red strands from Kathryn's mane out of her face slowly. "Before I can give you a more vivid experience. But that.. answers your questions in a way that hours, or even weeks, of talking could not. I wanted you to know.." he trails off, instead just watching her as words seem altogether unnecessary.

Not seeming entirely convinced, Kathryn nevertheless accepts his assurances rather than press him further, nodding gently as he sweeps aside her tousled scarlet locks. As tousled as they ever seem to get, anyway. "Alright." she echoes, unthinkingly. Does her mind ever actually -stop- working? Apparently not.

Searching his gaze keenly, her inquisitive nature gradually remembering itself, the young woman manages to wait a moment or two following Faelan's words, before venturing a quiet question. " you always feel that way? Is that what you have to hold back, to walk within society?"

"I have to hold it back, even now," Faelan points out calmly, blinking once and slowly shifting to press his back against the support of the couch. He slouches against it, feet sliding against the floor as he lowers himself and closes his eyes. The posture seems to lend itself to self control, strangely. "But yes. It always has to be contained. It doesn't mean I'm not capable of.. feeling other things. It simply is the price of having an all-consuming desire. In very literal ways, it sustains me. In others, it destroys me." He shrugs, speaking softly and flatly. Statements of fact, not abstract mystical riddles.

"The first step is realizing that I am not my desires. And that my desires are simply a product of my upbringing and.. base nature. Choosing, without the compass of desire, is much more difficult. But more liberating."

"When humans talk of all-consuming desire, they're usually gullible debutantes wittering about love." The remark is light. Having read the subtle warning, whether it was intentional or not, in Faelan's words, the young woman deliberately tries to avoid reacting the way he likely expects. Even with her senses less addled, she's not entirely afraid of him. A glimmer of it, certainly. But that's only natural. "-That-, though… that really was. All consuming. How did you come to master it? Does it grow easier with time?" Kathryn doesn't realise quite how dangerous her chosen topic is, that much is obvious. Curiosity outweighing common sense, yet again.

Allowing her gaze, finally, to wander away from the vampire as he reclines, she reaches out with one hand to retrieve her wine, from where she had abandoned it on the table. The base has left a subtle crescent atop the parchment she used as a coaster. With a long, grateful pull of the contents, it doesn't even occur to the redhead that, really, it's just as well Faelan's pale eyes are closed. The angle of her throat as she drinks is genuinely unwise, given the nature of their discussion. But, judging by the persistent tremble still present in her fingertips, she hasn't quite returned to herself yet, either.

Likely, the slouched posture and closed eyes are as much to keep Faelan in control as anything else, when presented with as tempting a prospect as Kathryn. The vampire is old enough to realize that, and while the fatigue of using his power in such an unexpected way still rattles at his self discipline, he's not taking any chances. "It never gets easier," he says softly. "If anything, it gets more intense. You don't.. master, something like that. Not really. It's always best to appear to be in control, because our society is all about appearances. But.." he shakes his head. "It controls me. I know that. Its terms are the terms of my existence. The best I can do is to satisfy it in small ways and conduct my life as best I can in the meantime."

Pushing himself upright after Kathryn finishes drinking, he slowly opens his green eyes and looks back to her. One of his hands grasps the cushion of the couch, fingers not quite becoming clawed, but nonetheless holding tight against the fabric for a moment. "There are ways to placate it, but the hunger always comes back."

Licking a little excess moisture from her lips, still cradling her wineglass in the loose grasp of a cupped hand and curved fingers, the young woman shifts her weight, drawing her feet up onto the couch and propping her free arm on its back to serve as a balance. The wine is rested on her knee, for now. She's remarkably calm, all told. Almost unsettlingly so. Her green eyes study Faelan contemplatively, noting that clutch upon the cushion before flitting back up to his sombre expression.

"I won't keep you, if you need to leave. You know that." she murmurs. Perhaps it was a lightning-bolt of clarity, or perhaps she guessed before now. It's not a huge leap to guess what would have the vampire on edge. "But I do have one question, first." A fingertip strays absently back and forth upon the rim of her glass. "What reason would -usually- prompt one of your people to lay claim to a human? Because… given your very nature, I doubt they're all good samaritans."

"The most common reasons," the red-haired vampire says softly as he sits back, his lips turning upwards into an amused smirk at the change of subject, "are to claim particularly valuable employees, assets, and lovers. In ascending order of common occurance." His brow raises momentarily following this, "It's safe to say that most of the vampiric community will be whispering scandalous things about us." Faelan's lips turn upwards into a smile, watching the surprisingly calm woman with a hint of his own fascination. Objectively, he knows he should leave, but.. rational thought isn't king.

"Most often, lovers are claimed as a means of protecting a weak point. The same rationale applies to the other two, just not as poignantly." His lips turn upwards, "Lovers, as seperated from gnash dolls. Prey is easy to find. An outlet for emotions, however.. that helps alleviate the all-consuming desire. Makes it quieter. Given expression that isn't violent, or fatal.. it becomes an anchor. To keep from drifting into insanity. It's more common than you might think."

Kathryn arches her brows in response to his explanation, at first. Though she does relent to a rather wry smirk at the mention of scandal. "So I'd best play along with whatever assumptions they make, for now. Until you meet with this.. Mister See, anyway." A brief pause. "..I can't undo what's been done, Faelan. But I also didn't print even half of what you told me. He can't punish you for honesty, surely?"

Rubbing her free hand at the back of her neck, a habitual motion, then resting her jaw lightly in the cup of her palm, the young woman allows her attention to wander the living room, seeming distracted rather than meditative. "I can imagine prey would be easily enough found, considering the abilities you have. But are you telling me there are people who regularly -offer-? What's in it for them?" She doesn't seem dusgusted, or even incredulous. Absently curious.

"Of course he can punish me for honesty. Truths are easily slain, and lies can become immortal. Mark Twain, if I remember." Faelan laughs quietly, rising up to his feet slowly and turning to regard the woman. He raises a brow at her line of questioning, but shrugs and answers it anyway. "Enjoyment. Feeding is pleasurable, as is sex. Some people get a kick off of the dangerous vampire thing. Others form genuine bonds. It varies." He shrugs dismissively. "The most common sobriquet for the vampire junkies that inhabit clubs like Blood is gnashdoll, and it's a subcultural goth thing. They're just the most visible kind of willing human, though." 'Willing human' is said with a sarcastic twist.

Faelan tucks his hands into his pockets, maintaining his stand with a languid exhale. "I'm sure you can imagine all the different scenarios, with what you've run into during your time as a reporter and our.. enlightening conversations."

"I didn't mean to offend you." If nothing else, she's swift to apologise, when the rare need arises. There's not much Kathryn Emerson ever regrets, in fairness, so the occasions she feels a pang of any such thing, she wants to rid herself of it quickly. Watching Faelan rise, she herself remains carefully unmoving. "I've been to Blood. And that explains a lot.." she continues, frowning slightly. "Though I'm reliably informed that some of you prefer a 'challenge'.."

Shaking off the train of thought, she concentrates on the vampire's gaze, entirely unperturbed when it comes to meeting it. She seems to genuinely trust him; for reasons nobody other than the young woman herself could hazard a guess at. "Faelan, I… thank you. Not just for tonight - for giving me an all-access pass to something as personal as that - but also for even thinking to care about my wellbeing. That makes you more humane than most humans, honestly. And I -am- grateful. I somehow doubt you wanted to be shackled with a reporter, especially one making her career out of investigating your world."

The vampire leaves his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans, turning slowly towards her and pressing his lips together. His pale eyes look over her in full, returning to her gaze. "I like you, as a person. When we first met, I only desired a fast track to the editorial insights of a newspaper. My motivations were entirely pragmatic, in my early cooperation." He acknowledges this as if it were a simple matter of course, the obvious way of things. The initial admittance is likewise casual. "However, as I got to know you, I have come to appreciate the person behind the monumental task you've set before yourself. You self-restraint is what convinced me that you might be worth more than using as a tool and an asset."

He remains still and unmoving as he speaks, though his lips compress in a momentary display of remorse. "But if that's all you were, I'd never bother coming here like this and wanting to establish a bond with you. Ultimately.. I get as lonely as anyone else. If not moreso. I've only recently arrived in Vegas, and the only rapports I've established have been with Vampires that, if ordered to do so, would tear my heart out and cook it on a barbecue."

He inclines his head slightly, "And by that I mean, I'm grateful to you as well. You've made this easier for me."

"My self restraint?" In spite of herself, Kathryn chuckles. "That's not a quality most people see in me… most consider me foolish, reckless… or suicidal, at times. I suppose I can see why. I'd certainly have been in trouble at that gathering, without you." She tucks her ruby hair back behind her ear, still smiling faintly. "But if having me around is of benefit to you, then good. I don't have much else to offer, save company. And I enjoy yours, strange as that may sound. I think I would, even if I had no interest in 'studying' you."

Her eyes flit from Faelan, to the door of the apartment beyond. "You're leaving, I assume. If I don't see you again beforehand, I hope your meeting goes well. For both our sakes. I think we've attracted more interest than either of us anticipated."

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