DEADASS.

New Yorker: take a left up over at 6th and catch the bus between 12th and 32nd. there you’ll see a hotdog cart at the corner of 53rd…you gotta go on straight past to 47th. between 8th and 34th there’s a little place, ask for Mikey, tell him I sent you an he’ll let you in aight

Charles was pleased to find that the young American was not the guarded type at all. He fell easily into conversation, carelessly revealing all manner of things about his life and character. The austere Londoner propped his elbows atop the table and folded his arms, leaning forth slightly as the boy spoke so as to appear invested with what he had to say, offering the odd verbal nod here and there to stress his own interest. Meanwhile, Charles dissected every piece of information that escaped the mortal’s mouth as he determined how best to use him.

He obviously had a kind soul, cared for children and even took time out of his own short lifespan to help others. Still, money and prestige were not unimportant to him, so his generosity had limits. Overall, he seemed to possess a degree of ambition that Charles could definitely exploit; an empathetic ideology and a bold self-assurance that might well prove to be his fatal flaw. “Mn, very interesting” he thought aloud. There were a number of routes he could go down here, but the more the other spoke, the more a concrete plan developed in the Londoner’s mind.

“I must say your enthusiasm is rather infectious, has anyone told you this before?” Ah to be young and naïve, to think you have the world at your feet, to go on blissfully unaware of the dangers lurking around the corner ready snatch it all away at a moments notice. It was such a shame that his ambitions would never materialize; a shame he was unlikely to see his beloved New York ever again; a shame that he will soon find himself a Vampire’s thrall. Charles would probably feel a lot worse for what he was about to do if his hunger was not constantly so acute, to the point where nothing else mattered.

“By all means, you are not boring me,” he said. “Pediatrics is a benevolent pursuit. I myself was an extremely sickly child, so it warms my heart to hear that you intend to go down such a route,” he lied through his own front teeth. Charles had never been sick as a child, and even if he had, medicine in the classical era was nigh nonexistent. However, his ancient status meant he has had plenty of time to learn about medicine, certainly enough to appeal to a young student.

“My old man specializes in hematology.” Another lie, but this field happened to be one that Charles took great interest in, for obvious reasons. If there was a cure for this dreadful curse, he’d have found it. “Is this a field you’re interested in? He has written a number of books on the topic, and I have more than few spare copies at home. He sends me a new edition every Christmas, bless him.” Charles mirrored the young man’s mannerisms by leaning back in his own chair, clasping his gloved hands together. “As for me, I am involved in property investment.” His dark, anemic eyes smiled in a charming manner, and tilting his chin slightly, he asked: “What is your name, boy?”

“Boy? What is this, some sort of edgy period drama?” he grinned, it quickly turning into a yawn half way through as he raised his hand to cover his mouth for what had to have been the fiftieth time this evening--morning?--ah, whatever. “It’s Sean, by the way. You?” 

He kicked his feet up, putting his hands behind his head, looking up at the ceiling. This guy had already colonized his table, if he wasn’t gonna move he’d just have to deal with his feet beside him. “You always start random conversations this late at night with strangers? Or am I just special?” Or unlucky. And he was leaning towards unlucky. God--he was tired. 

“I mean, thanks, it’s been mentioned a few times.” Sean shrugged, glancing back over at his laptop for any excuse to call it quits on whatever this was; was this guy this lonely that he just preyed on idiots who should’ve been back at their sweaty dorms all the time? Sad life, really. But--he rolled his eyes at himself--he couldn’t be talking, he was out here talking too.

“You sure, dude? Swapping life stories at,” he looked at the computer again, he squinted, the tiny numbers not quite focusing right, “this time... would bore most people.” Maybe he should be getting back. Besides, it wasn’t like it was life or death for this guy to talk to someone, right?--Mm, maybe it was. Sean made a face to himself; alright, he’d stay a bit longer just to make sure. 

“You sure you don’t have anything else to do right now? Get home? Sleep? Work on your investments? I can’t see how talking with some fuck ass college student is gonna help you much.” He twirled a hand, “I mean, seriously. I know I’m not much of a conversationalist right now, can’t imagine you’re having an easy time either.” 

Yet...he was surprisingly keeping pace, with an unusual sense of clarity for how late it was. Maybe he worked at night? He furrowed his brows, looking off to the side after puckering his lips; what kind of property investor worked at night? Eh, maybe he didn’t know enough about the profession to make that call, but still, wouldn’t it be better during the daytime?