Ishmael drew another long draught of blood from the man’s neck before him and licked his bottom lip clean as he resurfaced, fighting the ever-present urge to keep going, to just drink a little bit more. His bloodbank looked light-headed now, swaying a little where he sat on Ishmael’s lap – Ishmael, less invested than usual, didn’t address him, only steadied him with a idle hand on his arm.
“And what about tonight?” Ishmael asked Monty, who had promised to keep him on his movements. Business might be as good as settled already, but he wasn’t in any rush to leave. “Can you stay for another drink... or do you have somewhere else to be?” He knew the outcome he wanted, but – how hard-to-get was Monty going to play? He didn’t know the young man well enough yet to guess.
“And what about tonight?” Ishmael asked Monty, who had promised to keep him on his movements. Business might be as good as settled already, but he wasn’t in any rush to leave. “Can you stay for another drink... or do you have somewhere else to be?” He knew the outcome he wanted, but – how hard-to-get was Monty going to play? He didn’t know the young man well enough yet to guess.
