I watched the vampire casually lean his back against the fence post nearest to him with a smug laced ease, his confidence blisteringly obvious. Yes, he had clearly been successful because it looked like there was a gentle trace of blood on his lips as well as the drained, limp body on the ground beside him. Unfortunately, any vampire could have done that job. Anyone with half a brain and a tendency to indulge in brutal displays of violence could have completed the job, but the vampire in front of me did so with an ease that only comes from practice, and a serious carelessness about human survival. Murder, homicide, whatever you want to title it, came with a reputation of guilt, regret, and a tendency towards flashbacks that might haunt you for the rest of your life. It took a callous familiarity to kill, and even more so to kill with pleasure.

I guess there truly is a place in the world for cold blooded killers. I prefer the term professional of a particularly ludicrous pastime, but happen to be semantics.

The man declared that he didn't give two shits what I thought about him, and I debated retorting that it was mutual. He had been hired as someone to do my dirty work, which I didn't' do often but when I did, the side effects of the job or whatever happened to them was neither my problem, nor my concern. He looked like he expected me to validate my statement prior, confirming whether or not my words were a compliment. It was rare, to me, that I found someone who appreciated doing work like this, like I did. But when I did? I was kind of inclined to validate him, yeah. But the other part of me laughed, and I snorted my mild indigence as a general reply. His cocky demeanor told me that he would understand the behavior as a confirmation that I was appeased by his job well done. That was the only visible approval he would receive, though.

I refused to owe another being a single thing. It had never proved to be helpful, useful, or beneficial in any way that I could possibly think up or muster the energy to try and discover. When the topic of payment arose, I could hardly think of what to give a vampire besides a wooden stake to the heart. I thoughtfully pressed my tongue against my cheek, obviously considering my options. I hadn't really thought about what to pay the fucker who did my bidding, but the guy had shown he was more worthy of equality than payment. Besides, like I said... What the fuck do you give a vampire? His cockiness suggested he was well off, and honestly what creature that had lived long enough to develop that kind of attitude wasn't well off? In the grand scheme of things, money hardly meant anything to most of us. I had the ability to procure my own income through the element I could channel as easily as a flick of my fingers. Diamonds, jewels, ... You name it, it was possible to make. To sell. Money didn't matter to me, and therefore I assumed it didn't matter to a whole hell of a lot of other supernatural creatures, especially vampires.

Those fuckers must feel fan-fucking-tastic about themselves.

" First of all, you didn't do as I requested..." If he could think of something that didn't require so much from me, I wouldn't even be inclined. Had I known the man better, I would have left him standing there without another word. Fortunately for me, I didn't listen to that impulse and my eyes narrowed, accompanying my irritated jaw. "Figurative, you are more than welcome to suggest what you think you deserve, but you didn't listen, and you don't fucking deserve shit. I'd prefer to get the fuck out of here before the graveyard manager or anyone equally as intrusive arrives. He definitely should have appreciated that fact because it meant I wouldn't lift a finger to harm him, regardless of the intese intrusive thought of seeing blood spill out of him.

I.Hate.Vampires.

It wasn't like someone was going to show up. In all reality, no one knew we were here. No one had any inkling that our interaction even existed, so it was plausible that my statement was simply a way to move the conversation along and let the leech get out of the clearing and out of my way, especially as there was a shot of whiskey with my name over it at the bar I had come from. But I only felt brief contempt, and the words of praise never surfaced on my lips, considering his lack of respect lowered him a few levels. It was only then did I turn my sights to the body, to debate what I wanted to do with it. It occurred to me to bury it, but it would be a lot more fun to destroy it.

"Dually noted, we never talked about a reimbursement. I'm inclined to say fuck you for acting out of plan," I started, curiously running my hand over my mouth. What did I want to do to him? I usually enjoyed the end of a kill, coming up with an elaborate plan for the body or bodies. Usually, it was easy to disintegrate them at the hands of my element, dust to dust, right? It was hard to imagine that he wouldn't enjoy a little more sadistic indulgence. "But I have a body that I need to dismember, so I would prefer you leave or help rip him literally limb from limb."