The streetlight's hazy glow illuminates the vampire's crown of short, black curls. His friends polish him, tend to him like an old headstone forgotten in the weeds. Marton and Ezra who had the strongest opinions on how his hair should be trimmed, how his claws should be buffed, and which colors brought out the undead in his eyes.
A cigarette is clamped between his lips, his hands curled around a sterling silver lighter as if in prayer. "A hospital for you or someone else?" he says, talking around the smoke. The flame is small, flickering around his bloodied mouth. He looks up, head cocked at the sight of the man's ridiculous armor.
"What do you need all that for? Slaying dragons on the way home from the brothel?" he says, with a laugh. "Being out after curfew is one way to put you into a hospital."
the mocking question only elicits the slightest of smiles curling at the corners of the knight's lips, though he is anything but amused. can't he just make this short and sweet? one quick swing of her, and his victim would be relieved of his head, much to the relief of not only florian, but as he imagines, most of the people whose lives this one darkens with his insolent behavior.
not yet, ser. we need him to suffer, don't you remember? we need his anger.
his smile quivers, as if he's having a hard time keeping it up. "these are dark times. one need not a reason, other than the safeguarding of his own life and those around him to take up arms against monsters prowling through the streets." a pause, and a step forward. "as it happens, both of us are out after curfew. are you not afraid of ending up in the hospital?"
He grins, and the smear of dried blood around his mouth cracks. It dragged outwards to his cheek, as if he'd haphazardly scrubbed it with the back of his hand. "Me, hospitalized? Good luck with that!" he laughs. Alvie listens with his head cocked, pointed ears perked in attention. The thick metal suit makes the knight's heartbeat a novelty, echoing like rodents scrabbling behind a wall. A pretty heartbeat was hidden underneath those thick, metal plates. He could pry them open, unwrap his way to the organ like a gory present.
He takes a deep inhale of the cigarette.
It shakes the thought before he drowns in it.
"I'll get you to the hospital in one piece," he said. "But, think about getting new footwear. Monsters will hear you clanging a mile away if you keep wearing pots and pans for boots. What did you do, anyway? Stub your toe?" He beckons for the knight to walk east, waiting for him to move first. Keeping the man in his line of sight reduced the chances of a beast crawling out of the woodwork, and crunching him in half like a can of soda pop.
