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A vampire Serg and a witch Yvette
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He giggles again.

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"... You giggle a lot for a vampire," she observes. "Though, I guess I can't really judge, I haven't met any others."

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"I haven't met many either. They probably do giggle less often, though, the ones I've met have mostly been pretty boring people."

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"All murder and no banter? Though I'm surprised you don't know a lot of them, since you're all immortal and all after the same sorts of things. I'd have thought you'd bump into each other and be murder friends."

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"Young vampires aren't all that hard to kill, if you have any idea what you're doing. Most of us don't make it to two hundred."

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"Whereas old vampires are a bit more complicated than 'attempt to set on fire'?" she wonders, a little wryly.

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"Yes. Making friends with other vampires would if anything make even less sense than making friends with a human; at least with the human I don't have to worry about fighting over who gets the tastiest treats."

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"Hey, I resemble that remark," she mutters. At a more reasonable volume: "You don't reminisce about shared hunts? Draw lots? Go with 'finders keepers'? I would have thought humans dying left and right would get old after a while, and there's less in common. Vampires seem like the better emotional investment target."

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"Oh, I just don't bother making friends."

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"Oh. Well. That's a method. I hope it works for you."

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Shrug. "Has its ups and downs."

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"I suppose everything does," she agrees.

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"So, do you want another taste?"

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She flinches and shrinks in on herself.

"No."

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Shrug. "All right."

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Well, she's just going to be over here, being small and shivery and unhappy and trying not to hyperventilate.

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"You know, I don't think I will kill you. You're fun to talk to."

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That's... better than the alternative, she guesses.

"... Yay?" she manages weakly, after she's got her breathing a bit more under control. Still small and shivery, though, yep.

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He laughs, and vanishes.

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Yep, she's just going to bolt inside and retrieve her faithful bucket to fulfill its duties. Once that's done, she's going to spend a little while on the floor crying some more. That sounds good to her.

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But she grimly sticks to her meeting time, even so.

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He shows up again three nights later, and this time he lets her see it: the fog thickens and swirls and condenses into the shape of a person, and then there he is.

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She doesn't squeak, this time. Getting to see him show up helps. Her heart rate does a thing, but she can ignore it and forge on despite it.

"Hello," she says, putting down her pen and closing to book she was writing in. "Thank you, that entrance almost wasn't even creepy."

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Giggle.

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"So, how's your night going?" she wonders, because this seems like a sanctioned small talk topic. Instead of a giggling vampire she doesn't know what to do with.

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