Snippet #1688529

James shook himself like a wet dog, wiping blood for his chin. Oh, god that had hurt. He stood shakily, the opened his mouth. It was easier to show them rather than explain that he wasn't one to hold a very good conversation. The mangled stump of muscle in his mouth did the talking for him. He gestured towards it, ignoring the glass of water, and rubbed his neck. Damn Drake, why did he have to go to such measure, bringing attention to James. James did not mind being carried around by the scruff of his neck like a kitten, but being pushed from windows and having things jammed down his throat was not the way he wanted to spend his eternal youth. Not at all.

He gave a half smile to the short man and the chocolate skinned girl who looked so much like her brother, who James had killed by dragging backwards out of a window, then back into the corner, resuming his old position. Fade into the woodwork. The job of a good butler. Do what you are told and do not be seen. He stared at the glass of water that was still sitting on the floor where he'd left it. He had no use for the stuff. his throat would heal soon, no need to go around consuming things and making his belly uncomfortable. James had an appetite for only one thing. Not that he could help it. That was Drake's fault, the burning hunger.