Arlo James

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

In all the time he'd been alive, which really, compared to Damon, wasn't all that long- Arlo was mostly sure he'd never heard anyone, vampire or otherwise, claim that being a vampire was the best thing that ever happened to them. Whether he wanted to let it or otherwise. Hell, most vampires seemed to think it was the worst, or in the least they seemed to hate their Makers for it. Even he had hated Patrick, for awhile, his own emotions about that fateful night never really having managed to settle. Patrick had saved his life, by killing him, the idea of that never truly having managed to sit well with Arlo all the same. Then the press had gotten involved, after all, a rockstar couldn't die without the press having a fucking field day over it. It had taken years to bury those papers and the things they said over the very way he had died. As if they thought they knew. As if they thought they understood the events that had led to him lying at Patrick's feet that night. He hadn't...really....been trying to do that thing they said he did, had he? God maybe it was better not to think on it. At least not without a much fuller bottle of alcohol in front of him. Arlo pushing the idea away for now. His attention focusing largely on Damon instead. Maybe the guy was a prick and a jerk but, outside of Sebastian and Malek, he'd been one of the only vampires....ever to even try and help him. That meant something, didn't it?

"Guess we'll wait and see."

He offered simply as he rose from that seat then to follow Damon back out to that car. Arlo willing enough to admit that he really did just kinda like driving in the car. Was that wrong? Damon had a pretty epic car, so shoot him, he liked to been seen in it even if he wasn't the one driving. Hell, maybe one day he could get something just as nice. If he didn't get himself killed first. The thought alone seeing him scowl. Still, that thanks of sorts was in order all the same. Even if Damon's methods hadn't exactly been his favourite. Still, the vampire hadn't ripped his head off and for that, at least, Arlo was willing to stop plaguing his bar and feeding off his customers. The idea that Damon might occasionally have someone that gave him problems though wasn't to much of a stretch was it? Damon didn't exactly seem like the preserver of life over there so what was throwing him a few bones every now and then, so to speak? Arlo more than capable of making any problematic vampires....disappear....or in the very least rethink hanging around Red on The Water again- besides- he got a meal out of it too. It was win win. Damon's assurance that maybe that could be arranged tugging that genuine simper back to his own lips again.

"If you've ever got a meal for me let me know then. I can teleport there from wherever I am pretty damn quick, just saying."

It was that idea of a meal, so to speak, that prompted that other idea of sorts to his lips then. Arlo glancing away slightly as he asked after that possibility of a...job....of sorts. Maybe. Hell, He'd never asked for a job in his whole life and yet if Damon was paying that idiot he'd jumped to take out the trash then couldn't he manage that himself? That query off his customers service skills seeing the younger vampire glance upward.

"Sure I have those."

Well. He wasn't totally sure but the key was in the confidence right? Maybe if he just pretended he knew what the hell he was saying he'd get by. It had worked for most of his life so far. Arlo nodding a moment later even despite his distinct lack of skill in either of those areas.

"That's be good, bud. Thanks."

His hand lifted easily then, offering Damon those directions then towards his own place. Arlo readily requesting the other vampire stop several blocks from his apartment all the same, the young vampire easily within teleporting distance now and hey- he was hardly silly enough to let Damon know exactly where he lived just yet. Mentor or not. Arlo waiting until that car pulled to a stop before stepping from the vehicle and out onto the street. The man leaning on the windowsill then, that piece of folded paper handed back to Damon.

"That's my number, don't go giving it around and hey, bud? Don't take this the wrong way but I'd still really like to try your blood some time."