[That, at least, is the truth. The act of inflicting violence isn't what he wanted, not in specific. He shrinks, but his eyes still fall to the way the man hooks long fingers into his own tie; tempting, teasing.
He wants so much to deny it, to clear the air, to make him understand.]
I could count the amount of people I've drank blood from that actually weren't afraid on one hand, but you're... you enjoy it.
[He swallows again, the phantom feel of Giovanni--The warmth of his blood, the life energy that made up the person-- settling in his mind.]
A lot. [His voice rough, an edge of rawness to it. Giovanni might recognize an echo of the tone, something from their time in the alley.]
I could feel it, in your blood. It was overwhelming. Not thinking, just... feeling. It felt... amazing.
[His ears fold back against his skull, shame evident. Why can't he shut himself up? He wants to glue his lips shut. He doesn't want to admit that letting loose like that felt so good. He tries to take a step back, mortified.]
no subject
[That, at least, is the truth. The act of inflicting violence isn't what he wanted, not in specific. He shrinks, but his eyes still fall to the way the man hooks long fingers into his own tie; tempting, teasing.
He wants so much to deny it, to clear the air, to make him understand.]
I could count the amount of people I've drank blood from that actually weren't afraid on one hand, but you're... you enjoy it.
[He swallows again, the phantom feel of Giovanni--The warmth of his blood, the life energy that made up the person-- settling in his mind.]
A lot. [His voice rough, an edge of rawness to it. Giovanni might recognize an echo of the tone, something from their time in the alley.]
I could feel it, in your blood. It was overwhelming. Not thinking, just... feeling. It felt... amazing.
[His ears fold back against his skull, shame evident. Why can't he shut himself up? He wants to glue his lips shut. He doesn't want to admit that letting loose like that felt so good. He tries to take a step back, mortified.]