Now that she was closer, he could definitely smell the magical silver in her blood. His nose wrinkled in distaste. He was never a fan of their blood since it was bitter, like drinking a bottle of sour whiskey without any of the good buzz after. Witches were never his first choice for a meal. She seemed like the type that would put herself in harm's way every time to save someone else. It was such a human reflex, this total lack of survival instinct. Most witches he came across were cunning and would never hesitate to throw someone else in harm's way to save their own skin. They were masters of illusion, anything to cause a distraction so they could escape gracefully and lie low for a while before they strike again. She was almost suicidal in her tendencies. It was quite fascinating. She stood as if frozen to the spot, her fingers digging into her palms. When he said something about it, she jumped as if she didn't expect him to speak. She averted her gaze and apologized. He chuckled. "Aren't you an intriguing one." He murmured softly, his eyes glittering with amusement. She assured him that she didn't know the men before she suddenly seemed to find her courage, stepping toward him and raising her voice to ask if he did. He glanced down at the unconscious man before looking back up at her. "No...but I plan to soon enough." His eyes gleamed with ill intentions as his lips quirked. He assured her that he was only out cold, not dead, and then she found her voice, pleading with him not to kill the man. Damon tilted his head, his brow raised. He thought for a moment before speaking. "Why don't you come with, to make sure I don't? Unless you have other plans, of course." She asked what he was and he had to take a moment and figure out if she was serious or not. Meanwhile she got squeamish. At first she just looked confused, like she didn't know what he was talking about. Then she thanked him for not killing her and his eyes danced with amusement. She continued to step forward even now, even as he told her what he was. She was so refreshing in her unpredictability. It's like every fiber in her being was screaming to run and yet she was drawn that much closer to him with every affirmation that she was in mortal danger. She parted her lips as if to argue, his brow raising in expectation, but then she seemed to think better of it, her mouth closing. Her first comment was enough to make him smirk. "Not that you know of, anyway. We're usually a very discreet species." He let her process everything, standing very still. He could be patient at times. Finally she exhaled and gave her name, extending her hand out to him. He chuckled at her sarcasm, even as he reached out to take her hand firmly. "Damon will do fine. Not that I don't expect you to revert back to asshole at least once before the end of the night." He glanced over at the man on the ground, before looking back at her. "Shall we?" He waited for her answer before he strode over to the man, lifting him up like a ragdoll and tossing him over his shoulder like it was nothing. He started walking toward the warehouse distrct as if it were any normal night, even whistling a tune as he kept walking, somehow assured that she would follow. |