Arlo James

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

God! It was like being hit by a.....by a.....truck! Even if it only was a car it felt a damn lot bigger. Arlo colliding with that vehicle (near destroying the front of it in the process) before the vampire felt himself hit that road. Well, that hurt. His entire body left reeling from that impact, a crash that would surely have killed a mortal man entirely and had surely done at least some damage to the vampire himself and yet that healing was already well in effect. Those cuts and scrapes already drying and closing over, the feeling of sorts returning to his limbs along with the rest of his senses. He was vaguely aware of people around him, one man seeming to shout that he had no heartbeat. Didn't he? That seemed awfully alarming. He should do something about that, maybe, after a nap. Although someone was tugging at his damn arm and his leg and....how the hell many people were in his bed? The scent of someone close to him, someone female saw his nose wrinkle slightly. He could smell her blood, her skin, her shampoo all at once. Women so often smelt so much nicer than men. His eyes felt slightly thick, almost heavy, the man at last managing to open them, his blue gaze meeting that woman's own then as she leaned over him, that greeting of sorts on her lips.

"Hey to you too."

He managed at last, those words slightly slurred and yet with each passing moment that clarity was returning. Arlo frowning then at all those people staring at him, that road feeling really bloody hard against his head, that blonde girl leaning over him again to hiss at him. Well- that was impolite. Arlo glaring slightly at her. Know what he was? A washed-up rock star? They could google that. It wasn't exactly a secret, the man about to argue that very point before that comment to get up seemed to register. Yeah, he should do that, he should totally do that. He eased himself slowly upwards much to the apparent astonishment of the people around him, Arlo slowly pulling himself to his feet a moment later with the assistant of the blonde girl. Calliel. That's right. The one he was looking for. The one he'd been about to talk to before that Taxi ran him over. That crowd apparently content to applaud his efforts. Hmm, maybe if they did that when he got out of bed in the evening he'd be more inclined to actually get up. Still, he let the young woman lead him away from that scene, Arlo vaguely aware of that arm around his waist and yet that steadiness seemed to find him with every step. His body near entirely healed within those few moments, no more than a few scratches still clear. His hand reaching up behind his head as Calliel led him further away from that scene, his hand lifting away to eye that wet, sticky blood that decorated his fingers.

"Damn, I've got blood in my hair. Seriously, is it bad? Can you see?"

He turned his head slightly, offering that girl a view of the back of it with clear concern. That would heal right? Was he going to need stiches? This is what he got for trying to be a good person. The man shaking his head once more, wiping his hand across his jeans in some lacklustre effort to clean it. Now he was going to need to find somewhere to wash-up, this shirt was probably ruined too. Just great. His gaze at last returned to that woman again. Arlo only now seeming to remember his purpose without that crowd staring at him and yet...Calliel hadn't exactly said his name either had she? Didn't she remember him? That lopsided grin tugging suddenly at his features.

"You don't know who I am do you? I even remembered your name. It's me, Arlo. Remember? You loaned me that eight bucks that time?"

Those words were teasing and good natured all the same. He paused, searching her features for some sense of recognition on the girls face, the man twinging slightly at that pain in his head. Wasn't he supposed to be like indestructible or something?

"I came to give you the eight dollars back- like I promised."