"That's an issue. But Carlisle is unaffected now, he's a doctor in fact, and of anyone else in my family, I'm the one with the most," his face hardens a little, and she can probably see the sharp dissatisfaction in his expression and the taut line of his shoulders, "difficulty."

It's weakness, pure and simple. He'd lived his life through murder for eighty years. Even the fear and pain he'd felt from each victim hadn't stopped him from taking more, not until Alice had found him and taught him a different way. He'd never even considered it, and every day, it feels like it would be easier to just go back to what he'd known for so long. The scientist he'd ripped into, he could claim that as self defense if he felt like lying to himself. He couldn't claim it hadn't felt damned good. Even he can't lie that well to himself.

But that's an old argument, his frustration with his own thirst, and he forces his shoulders to relax, lets his head fall to one side when he looks at her again. "Alice's visions are subjective," he says quietly. "They change based on what people decide. It doesn't mean it's something that's going to happen, but...yes, I do want you to come with me. I...we," he corrects himself, because he wants to be as honest as he can without frightening her off, "we would like to see that future come about. That said, you would be walking into a house full of vampires."