Arlo James

See what it's like to be a vulture's lunch

He could feel that hunger again. Tugging at him, clawing at him, gnawing at his stomach. The busboy had hardly been a proper meal. After all, Lucas hadn't fed any time recently himself, leaving Arlo only with whatever poor excuse of a meal the busboy had fed on last to be pilfered. It was enough to satisfy him, to take the edge of that hunger and yet he was hardly sated by any means. Still, he hardly made a habit of draining more than one vampire a night. His game was risky enough as it was without having to get greedy. Red on The Water had provided him with a veritably endless supply of meals this past month. Why rush? Still, that newly found control was already beginning to wrinkle in Damon' presence. He was getting better, sure, he was learning more and more control with every passing night and yet still- he wasn't learning fast enough. He didn't want to want Damon's blood- but he did. God he did. Damon was well fed. He could smell it on him. So many years hunting his own kind so assuring that when it came to them- Arlo was entirely predatory in every sense of the word. Damon would make an excellent meal. Well, on paper anyway.

The other vampire was older, stronger, Arlo entirely sure he could almost feel that power coming from him. He'd only survived this long by avoiding vampires like this and yet he was hardly foolish enough to try and sprint down the alleyway. It would be better, for now, to simply try and figure the man out- then make a break for it. This guy was calm- far to calm. It was unnerving and yet, if Arlo was good at anything it was pretending as if nothing bothered him. Not even that mention of killing. Damon talking about it almost as if he got off on it and yet- didn't most vampires? Those bright blue eyes narrowed slightly, Arlo regarding the other man warily still, watching the way his tongue licked over his lips at even the thought of that meal, the mention of blood enough to see Arlo nearly mimic that gesture before hurriedly clamping his jaw. God he hated himself sometimes. He hated this thing he was- even without Damon reminding him of those he'd murdered in those early years when he could barely even remember the nights let alone the names of those early victims. His gaze flicked away from the other man. Arlo still content to play that stubborn, almost guarded card. He needed a way out. Maybe he could run....

"I don't do the killing thing. Not anymore, alright? But whatever floats your boat, bud."

He was deflecting those other questions, flicking them aside, attempting to redirect Damon's attention elsewhere. Arlo almost entirely sure that this guy was playing his own game back at him. After all, Damon wasn't attacking. This wasn't some sort of coven-consented beat down. What did he want? Arlo entirely wary of the man in every sense of the word. He just needed to figure this guy's game out- sooner rather than later- and find an exit strategy to work with it. Survival, after all, was Arlo's only real goal. His gaze shifted briefly to glance down the nearest alleyway and up to the rafters above, assessing the distance readily before bringing his attention back to Damon as if it had always been there. That question about his being new in town seeing his shoulders lift in that shrug again, a genuine snort of amusement erupting from within him, that simper tracing his lips.

"Truth be told I've been feeding off your bar for over a month. You were just one step ahead of me tonight. Won't happen again though, promise."

One eye arched briefly upward, as if daring Damon to try and catch him a second time and yet Arlo was entirely content to keep his body language distinctly non-threatening all the same, poking at Damon just a little, hunting for a reaction on this otherwise far to controlled being. He was always wary of the calm ones. That envelope was snatched easily from the ground. Arlo content to pilfer a few bills from it all the same before handing it to the other man, another wave of that scent suddenly seeming to find him then. Oh no. Not again. Fuck this. One hand reached almost automatically to grasp that wall, Arlo content enough to try and hold himself back- a rush of words falling from his lips then, saying anything and everything he so presumed Damon wanted to hear. Anything to get him to leave. Arlo having no real intention of leaving Damon's bar alone at all and yet his body and mind had so begun to engage in that war once more over whether or not hunger or survival was the most pressing concern, his pupils dilating readily as saliva rushed forward to coat his teeth and tongue. He needed Damon to leave. This was not going well. If Sebastian could veritably gag him with those red thread things he had no desire to see what Damon might do in defence- the guy didn't exactly seem like the type of guy who messed around much with these sorts of things. The other vampire seemed entirely unconcerned as the very bricks in the wall began to crumble beneath the sheer force off his fingers. Arlo's emotions beginning to spike once more as he clung to those fragments of control again. Damon's evident sarcasm hardly improving the situation.

"I'm trying to do you a god damn favour."

It was very near hissed between his teeth, Arlo forcing himself to turn away and focus on the wall and yet his grip on it was still so firm it was crumbling under his touch. He had to think of something else, anything other than that blood, so warm and red and....god this was not working. The younger vampire managing an almost desperate plea this time. What in the hell Damon wanted with him he had no idea and yet if he didn't leave this was going to end in a brawl and so help him Arlo was entirely sure he was going to lose. Walk away. Just walk away. Damon almost seeming to enjoy his rapidly growing distress and that internal battle that had become an all-out war. Arlo clinging to the wall now as if his life depended on it. Maybe it did. God maybe this had been a set up from the beginning, make him attack, claim it was an attack against the coven, get the coven involved and have him run out of town like every other city and town before him ever had.

"I'm not ok.....I can't...stop myself."

Even his breathing had become laboured from the effort of holding himself back. Arlo almost desperate to win that battle as he forced each word from between his lips. Didn't Damon know what it was like to want to bite anything and everything? Didn't he have any idea? Why the hell was he laughing? One hand reached upward, running through those near-black locks, a groan of pure frustration rumbling within his chest as his eyes closed, struggling almost valiantly for that control. He hadn't even been hungry until Damon showed up, well, not this hungry. It was basically Damon's fault he was sure. He didn't want to go hunting with him. He didn't understand. None of them ever did. Wait- pull his teeth out? One eye glanced suddenly upwards and towards the elder vampire again- that alone seeming to have struck at what sense still remained within him. Would Damon really pull out his fangs? What that even possible? That sounded...painful. The momentary distraction seeing his features soften if only briefly into that far more normal and well- sane look. Arlo grasping at those few threads of control that threat had somehow given him, the man oblivious to the idea that such a thing might have been Damon's plan all along. Arlo fell silent for several moments before swallowing, remaining by that wall all the same as is gaze shifted to meet Damon's own again.

"You....you think you can help me, bud? Fine. If your hunt doesn't work though- I get to feed on you. How about that, eh? If you taste even half as good as you smell I'll be happy. You smell much better than your busboy, not as good as the English guy I don't think, but beggars can't be choosers. Make me that deal and I'll come with you here and now- and I'll totally behave."

It was a bet Damon couldn't win and yet what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him. Besides, maybe Damon did know some good ways of hunting. Did it hurt to learn?