This is a strange town...

He'd seen some of the flyers for a band hanging around, amidst the missing posters. He'd not managed to make it to a show yet, but he'd certainly been intrigued.

Something in Val wanted to hesitate at the thought of feeding on someone at another's command. But he was the more unsavory type of local that could be found in Santa Carla, the type who fed into the worst addictions and allowed the darker parts of other people to thrive. The parts that would hurt others, and themselves...

Screw it.

Val rushed forward, not even giving the man a chance to inhale for a scream. One arm wrapped around his torso while another slammed firmly onto his mouth, already pulling him deeper into the alleyway. She could hear him try to force out a muffled plea, but his heart was pounding stronger and faster, drowning out everything else.

Finally…

As the scent of the man's blood filled the air around them, Clare fought against the way his own instincts and need flared. The blood still called to him, but he could hold himself back. He'd learned how to control it across the years, and while it was still a temptation, it was one he knew well enough to refuse. The last thing he wanted to was to make her feel crowded, threatened, like he was trying to steal her meal from her. It would have been a senseless way to make an enemy.

It wasn't like blood alone couldn't sate him any longer anyway.

He could hear as the man's heart beat slower and slower with each pull she took. It wouldn't be long now.

He pulled a knife from the pocket of his leather jacket, idly flicking it over his hand. The weight of it still wasn't wasn't right, wasn't the same as the one he'd known so long ago, but it was the closest he'd found. And lucky for him, it would do the job all the same.

To hell with stereotypes, so long as the soul was collected, Death wasn't picky about what type of blade was used.

But of course, that depended on him actually making it back to the van after a night of trouble.

"You said that we're not far from the boardwalk now, right? Hell, who knows, maybe my van's parked somewhere close to here!"

It was wishful thinking, but no harm in trying to be optimistic.

He sipped at his water, trying to ignore the strange feeling that wouldn't seem to lessen around the other man.

“No. No, the explaining part can wait for later.”

Before she could think twice, she grabbed the bottle from the stranger, effortlessly popping open the bottle cap before taking a deep swip. Already, the bubbles on her tongue were swirling with the remnants of the foul blood, which nearly made her gag. Swishing the concoction in her mouth a few times, she moved to a nearby garbage can before spitting it out. Another heartier drink from the soda bottle helped her nerves to calm somewhat.

“The, uh... the dinner offer doesn’t sound that bad, honestly. Least, that way, I can make it up to you for the whole... ‘biting’ thing.”

'One of the few,' only because he had reason to suspect that she wasn't the only bloodsucker around.

"C'mon," He lead back out into the street. "Let's go find this bastard before he gets cold feet and runs off."

Not waiting, knowing she would follow, he started walking toward the alley again. Making these kind of deals with shady individuals was second nature at this point. He knew right where it find them and how to reel them in. Sure, he doubted it was exactly what Death had in mind when sending him to the 'Murder Capital,' but could It really blame him if it meant keeping himself fed and his own monster at bay?

He slowed, spotting a familiar figure up ahead.

He almost had to wonder if maybe the universe was cutting him some slack, throwing him some good luck after so much bad. But then again, he really couldn't ignore the strange vibe he was getting from the house or from Michael. There was definitely something, but at the same time, he couldn't say he was exactly worried about it. He didn't really know what all he could do just yet, but he'd learned quickly enough that he was much stronger than he should have been and had no problem protecting himself if it came to it.

"I stay pretty much everywhere though, been on the road for the last few years. I live out of my van--"

Saying it made his stomach sink with realization.

Or a gun. Maybe the other man was carrying a gun.

Memories of moments with his own sister came to mind, her trying to protect him, not realizing what was he was doing was in an effort to help her.

He wondered how her life ended up going, if she ever really knew all he had done for her. Part of him really hoped that she didn't, it would only cause her pain.

“...sorry, what?”

Val only continued to watch, almost unblinking as the man worked to staunch the wound. He seemed so casual, so nonchalant in the action that it practically unnerved her! Whatever he was, it was clear that she’d never had any experience in the creature that he was. He looked human but wasn’t, seemed human but wasn’t! Standing upright, she wiped away the last vestiges of blood from her skin as she moved to follow the stranger as he slowly made his way down the alley.

Even more confusing was him offering her a new target to feed on! Had he done something like this before?! Santa Carla had to be some kind of supernatural magnet at this point - it was the only thing that could even scarcely make sense in Val’s mind.

“What I am—” he knelt down close to the ground, fiddling a moment with a lock before pulling open a roll-up garage door. The space inside was dark, whatever it had once housed closing down long ago, making it the perfect spot for him. “—is complicated. If we take the time for you to have the full story now, your dinner will be gone before you can get to him.”

Should he encourage that? Make more work for himself? Probably not. But if someone was going to die by her hand, better it was someone that the world would be better off without.

He stepped inside the space, enhanced senses allowing him to see despite the dark. Besides the natural decay of a space left abandoned, it was relatively orderly, a small cot set with folded blanets, a well worn travel cooler, some large containers of water and non-perishabele foods in cans stacked on a counter.

He popped open the cooler, pulling out a bottle of soda and offering it to her.

Before the man could say anything forward, she lunged forward as she allowed herself to shift into that more vampiric side of hers gripping his shoulder with one hand and his chin with the other. Wrenching his head back and exposing the line of his throat, bloody-golden eyes blazed with hunger as she opened her mouth and immediately plunged her fangs into her skin, the four sharpened teeth cutting through skin effortlessly.

At the first pull of his blood, however, her body violently reacted with a jolt of disgust.

Dead blood.

It was cold, foul on her tongue as it slid its way down her throat. That strange instinct surged up into her mind once again, practically screaming the warning of what she briefly tasted into every synapse. At once, she shoved the stranger away, coughing and dry-heaving as she tried to get that horrid taste out of her mouth, out of her body! Doubling over, Val braced a hand against the wall as she continued to cough, her mouth and chin absolutely smeared with crimson as she tried to fight the nausea that threatened to consume her.

"I told you not to..."

Of course. The one night he decides to allow himself to relax, to let his guards slip just a little, he gets attacked by a rogue vampire.

"Blood tends to turn stale and cold when it ain't got a beating heart to keep it moving," He did almost feel bad for her. He knew what it was like, the agonizing pull of the hunger, the maddening way your teeth ached as you slowly lost more and more control. He'd say he didn't miss it, but what he dealt with now was somehow much worse. "Can't imagine it's the most appetizing thing."

He shifted, reaching a hand into his coat to take out a handkerchief, putting it to his wound. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been bitten, he'd forgotten how badly it could hurt.

It also didn't help that the world was still spinning. He really shouldn't have had so much to drink.

“You’re probably not wrong about this spot not being the safest,” Michael replies. “Especially with Santa Carla’s whole ‘Murder Capitol of the World’ thing. But I just… needed to get out for the night. Things… got a little messy between me and my family earlier. I just… needed to clear my head.”

Words that, on the surface and to a stranger, would have appeared as arrogant and overconfident. Even with the leather jacket and mean look he often wore, with his smaller build, Clare didn't appear like much of a threat. He preferred it that way, made it easy to keep under the radar and to catch others who might try to cause him problems off guard.

"Working through things with family can always be challenging," He couldn't speak too much from experience, his own family being broken from a young age. "Takes a heavier emotional toll..."

It came with deeper regrets too, if something were to go wrong before amends could be made. That one, he knew all too well.

Something about this other guy felt... off. Strange and different in a way he couldn't quite explain. But he tried to push it away. The guy was being way more generous than he had to be considering he'd more or less broken into the house and Leslie wasn't about to take that for granted.

"And yeah, actually! That helps a lot," Sort of, it at least put some pieces together. Had he been on the boardwalk the night before? "The boardwalk's a pretty wild place. This whole town is wild. I've been up and down and a bit of everywhere, but I've never known a place like this before."

He known plenty of places that kept pretty wild secrets, but nothing quite like Santa Carla.

Val had pushed herself too long. Her teeth had begun that telltale itch while the world itself seemed to sharpen and brighten in definition. Even four years later, she hated what it would all meant.

She had to feed.

She was always different when it came to that urge. Val would always be quiet, carefully scanning the crowds of Santa Carla for someone who wouldn't be missed... or someone who needed to be taught a lesson. Until her eyes settled on someone. He was drunk, stumbling around as he caused a nuisance. He was perfect for what came next.

She quietly followed along as he made more of a scene, watching with a light smirk as he was hauled by his collar off the boardwalk, keeping a fair distance away until finally, finally, he was wavering through the older part of Santa Carla - probably to some cheap motel nearby.

Despite his desire to get out from under Death's thumb, Clare still had to keep up appearances and his work. In the case of Santa Carla, that meant dealing with it when someone in the 'Murder Capital of the World' when 'missing.'

He'd felt he'd more than earned the night off, a chance to relax and actually enjoy all there was to see. It was a far cry from the tiny town in Appalachia that he'd called home for so long, and he was more than happy to take the opportunity to indulge a bit.

...But it had been a long time since he'd indulged like this, and even longer since he'd done it on his own. After being kicked off the boardwalk, he made his way slowly toward the abandoned spot that he'd claimed as his own for the time being. The world around him spun, his awareness and senses impaired, but not enough to not pick up on what shouldn't have been there. He wasn't alone.

He stopped, swaying slightly on his feet, and didn't bother to turn around.