"My apologies, Natasha," he says immediately, dipping his head a little. "Force of habit for a lady I'm not particularly acquainted with." But he falls silent again and lets her finish, listening with some interest to the plans she's already made. The experiments they'd performed on him had mostly revolved around his thirst, and they'd only just been starting to test the hardness of his skin when he'd been let loose. They hadn't gotten around to anything else. Even if she knows the results of those tests, she might not know much else.
She likely doesn't know his range of movement extends hundreds of miles. Or that he could run halfway across the country and be back in the same day. Near-starving from the energy he'd expend doing it, admittedly, but it's still doable. Needs must, after all, when you spend your life trying to stay hidden from millions of people. "I don't sleep. Don't need to. But firewood won't be a problem. There's a few downed trees, birches, some miles from here. Easy enough to collect them up, after that little pick-me-up of yours."
He sets the empty mug aside and folds his hands on the table, shoulders still straight, as he considers his next words. "You're right. I do have some measure of self control. But not as much as the rest in my family. I spent a lot of years living like any vampire does, in addition to fighting in the wars. Being...sated...like this, that's a help, but my years as a vegetarian vampire still don't top my years spent otherwise." He glances up then, meeting her eyes as steadily as she can meet his. "I know for a fact you're not afraid of me, and I'm not questioning that. But there will be times when I cannot be around you. Even times when I up and vanish in the middle of a sentence. I'll need to apologize in advance for that, there will not be time in the moment."
He looks down again at his neatly-folded fingers, stone-pale against the dark, scarred wood of the table, and half-smiles. "Being the cause of your decay is not something I want."
no subject
She likely doesn't know his range of movement extends hundreds of miles. Or that he could run halfway across the country and be back in the same day. Near-starving from the energy he'd expend doing it, admittedly, but it's still doable. Needs must, after all, when you spend your life trying to stay hidden from millions of people. "I don't sleep. Don't need to. But firewood won't be a problem. There's a few downed trees, birches, some miles from here. Easy enough to collect them up, after that little pick-me-up of yours."
He sets the empty mug aside and folds his hands on the table, shoulders still straight, as he considers his next words. "You're right. I do have some measure of self control. But not as much as the rest in my family. I spent a lot of years living like any vampire does, in addition to fighting in the wars. Being...sated...like this, that's a help, but my years as a vegetarian vampire still don't top my years spent otherwise." He glances up then, meeting her eyes as steadily as she can meet his. "I know for a fact you're not afraid of me, and I'm not questioning that. But there will be times when I cannot be around you. Even times when I up and vanish in the middle of a sentence. I'll need to apologize in advance for that, there will not be time in the moment."
He looks down again at his neatly-folded fingers, stone-pale against the dark, scarred wood of the table, and half-smiles. "Being the cause of your decay is not something I want."