Chapter Text
“You should really go hunting.” The man wearing bandages said, arms crossed and frown on his face, looking every bit like a stern mother. Which was funny, because Scott couldn’t remember ever speaking to the man. Though he couldn’t remember speaking to anyone, to be fair.
“I really can’t.” Scott replied, crossing his own arms in turn. But really, could you blame him for getting defensive?? Obviously he wouldn’t do labour while sick! Which he would fully admit was just an excuse, if asked. No one asked though, which was why it was such a great excuse.
“Because you’re too weak. You’ll feel better after eating something.” Yeah, that’s what he’d been trying, but everything just came up again immediately. It should probably be concerning or whatever. Scott didn’t really care much though. He should be, but he was really not. Who knew why.
“No, I literally can’t.”
His roommate— Shelby, he reminded himself, he’d just talked to her ten minutes and five seconds ago, he should be able to remember that— was keeping a close eye on him. Apparently he’d gone into the forest alone without telling anyone a few days ago, and caused them a fair amount of panic. He didn’t really see what was so bad about that, but maybe he’d almost gotten killed by an animal or something. Would explain the weird fantasies about killing them brutally.
Either way, his roommate was guarding the door.
Though to be fair, Bandages had snuck in through the window. Maybe he could discretely leave that way? On the other hand, Bandages was a lot more muscular than him, which was probably how he’d scaled the wall.
No he didn’t know why the man had came through the window, but it was funny enough not to question it. If he didn’t criticise it, the man might end up doing it again! And that would certainly be a fun surprise for his future self.
“You don’t know how to hunt?”
And actually. According to his very weird fantasies about catching a rabbit live and ripping it apart with his bare teeth, he did actually know how to hunt. But he had the funny feeling that wasn’t the kind of hunting Bandages was talking about. And who knew if he could actually do it.
“No, not really.” He said indifferently.
“I thought you’re supposed to be part of the Goldsmiths legacy.” The man scoffed.
Well, you see. According to his journal he’d stolen that name from the grave he’d woken up in. It was his now, and he supposed that made him part of the ‘Goldsmiths legacy’, whatever it was, though it certainly sounded like something one would like to be part of. And apparently it was related to hunting? Goldsmith sounded like the name of a noble family, but a noble family known for hunting…? Or was it just a popular hobby in the family?
“Oh, I’m fairly new to it.” He ended up saying, glancing away a bit as if he was embarrassed. Being recently adopted, which he was trying to imply here, would be embarrassing for any noble, after all.
“New.” The man echoed, looking faintly dead inside. The look reminded him of someone else, although who was up to mystery. “How new, exactly?”
Weird reaction to learning someone was adopted. Weird, weird reaction. This whole conversation was weird, actually. Maybe Scott should end it, least he ended up in a conversational corner.
“I don’t think that’s any of your business.” Scott sniffed, projecting defensiveness.
“It really is.” The man growled. Literally growled. What was up with the people in this place? Were all peasants this weird? When Scott didn’t reply, he begrudgingly added “I’m not gonna judge you, I just want to what to expect.” Respectable enough. But also, he sounded like he would absolutely judge. But on the other hand, what should Scott care about someone judging him for the fake length of his fake adoption.
“A few weeks.” He ended up replying, which was hopefully vague enough. A few weeks could be anywhere from one to fifty, after all. Had it actually been a week since he’d woken up in a grave? Well, he didn’t know. He couldn’t remember after all.
“Weeks.” The man echoed once again, sounding incredulous. “And your Sire is just letting you walk around on your own when you can’t even hunt?” His…sire. Like, his father?
“Oh, he’s dead.” Scott just shrugged, which he was pretty sure was actually the truth. The man was at least dead to him metaphorically, seeing as he felt nothing but indifference when he thought about the word. Or maybe that was just his natural state of being shining through, who knew.
Poor Bandages looked like he was struck in the face though, even staggering back a few steps. Bit dramatic, in his opinion.
“Careful, you’re getting awfully close to that window.” Scott pointed out, even though the man had been nothing but weird since breaking into his room. He was too kind for this world, truly. His words snapped Bandages out of his stupor. He shook his head and took another step back. How rude. Scott had taken the time out of his day to warn him, and then he didn’t even listen!
“Yes, uh.” The man said eloquently. “I’ll… uh, see about hunting for you for the time being. Until you’re strong enough to try on your own. I’ll teach you, after that. Or Pyro will.” The man said hurriedly, still not looking like he was all that mentally present.
“Oh, thank you.” Scott said, truly a bit surprised. Maybe he’d underestimated the strength of pity? Or what else was this? Also, who was Pyro again?
“No problem.” The other man replied quietly, turning around towards the window. He hesitated, resting his already lifted leg on the windowsill. Kinda like a dog. A wet and pathetic dog. “…My condolences.” The words were unsure and yet more sincere than anything else that had been said in the conversation, which…
This obviously meant something. He was guessing Bandages had a dead father himself? Or at least lost someone close to him. He should write that down.
Before Scott could respond, the man had jumped out of the window. Scott could hear him hurriedly retreating into the woods. He watched him from the window until he disappeared behind a hill.
What a weird guy.
… Anyways, he had some important stuff to write down.
—
“Hey Shelly, what’s the name of that guy with the bandages?”
“It’s Shelby.” Shelby corrected, seemingly not upset about the mix up. Or used to it. Scott imagined something along the lines had probably happened quite often recently. “And what’d they look like?”
“There’s multiple people walking around bandaged?” Scott asked, incredulous. “Is there like a really aggressive wolf around or something?”
“Oh, no!” Shelby giggled. It was nice. Being funny was nice. “They’re all just doing it for the aesthetic, I think. It used to be just Owen and Avid, but Pyro has a neck bandage just like Avid too now! I think Owen’s been influencing him, they’ve been spending a lot of time together.” Names over names over names.
“Well, he was very broody and sort of weird.” Scott elaborated. For the aesthetic, was it? He could respect that. “Also—“
“That was probably Owen, then!” Shelby interrupted. “Oh— sorry.”
“It’s fine.” Scott replied, amused. “You knew who it was just from that?”
“Yeah! Owen’s always broody.” They think for a moment. “Kinda like a widow mourning her husband who died in the war.” Scott nodded as he wrote that down. That certainly sounded like Bandages.
“And the other two aren’t broody?” Scott asked when he was finished. “Because that’s literally all the information I have to go off, in case I have to identify any of them. Which wouldn’t really make sense, to ask the guy with memory issues, but the people here can be odd. I mean, who enters the house through a window?” But also asks for permission, except only when they’re already just outside the window?
“Not really, no. Avid’s more—“ A pause, in which Scott could visibly see his words arrive in their brain. “Owen did what?!”
“He visited me earlier, which is fine obviously, but the weird part was that he visited through the window. He was polite about it though, knocked and everything.”
Shelby crossed the table, setting her hands on his shoulder seriously. “Okay, Scott, I know your memory isn’t the best, but this is super important, so please try your best to remember!”
“Sure?”
“Did Owen have wings when he flew up or did he do it a different way?”
“Flew—“ Scott snorted. “He didn’t fly, actually. I could hear him climbing the wall, I just assumed it was a bird repeatedly crashing against our house or something.” And he’d been busy fantasising about eating the corpse, he’s fairly certain.
“But are you sure? Cause I’ve been thinking, Owen’s always in the woods and sometimes he talks a bit weirdly. So I’m pretty sure he’s a fairy or forest spirit!”
“I’m pretty sure myself, actually.” Scott replied, amused. “Why a forest spirit, though? Isn’t he a hunter? I don’t think forest spirits hunt the animals in their forests.”
“A hunter?” Shelby asked, confused. “No, he’s a lumberjack! And I do think that’s a bit weird, but he always looks so miserable whenever someone starts building a house! Like he’s mad that we’re starting a town in the forest!”
“Maybe he just hates the architecture?” Scott offered. “I’d be miserable too if I could constantly remember the horrible houses in this town and knew I was providing the wood for them to be built.”
“They’re not that bad!” Shelby chided him. “Definitely better than ours! And Apo’s an architect, they probably know what they’re doing.” Were they? Had Scott even ever talked to this Apo? With the others, there was at least a feeling of faint recognition when he heard their names by now— not this one though.
“Maybe she’s just a really bad architect and Owen’s a critic?”
“But Owen and Sausages house doesn’t look any better!”
Compelling argument. He’d almost be inclined to believe it, except magical creatures weren’t real. But he liked Shelby, and he liked discussing the topic with her, so he didn’t say that.
“Okay, but a critic isn’t always an artist!” Scott retorted, smirking. “I’d even say they’re not both most of the time, actually.”
“That—!” Shelby started, finger up to make her point, before deflating. “That’s kinda right, actually.” They shook their head, dejection soon forgotten. “But that still doesn’t rule out fairies!”
“I thought the lack of wings ruled that out?”
“Maybe they can hide the wings or shape shift!” Shelby countered. “Some stories say they can! We shouldn’t assume based on rumours!”
“Or maybe someone plucked Owen from the sky like a bird and ripped his wings out to eat them.” Scott mused. “Would explain his apparently never ending brooding.”
He could imagine it, even. Owen, flying around with dainty little wings. Pounced on by some creature, maybe a wolf or even a human. The attacker rips his wings, or maybe grabs them and pulls. Fairy wings would probably sell well. Maybe as decoration or a exotic ingredient. Or, he thinks amusedly, for a witches potion, since the existence of a fairy Owen implied the existence of those as well.
He dislikes the thought, for some reason.
“Oh, that’s a bit morbid.” Shelby said, but apparently wasn’t that put out by said morbidity in face of it involving the mythical creatures they so adored. Scott liked her more and more. “But actually, you might be onto something there! Owen totally gives traumatic backstory vibes.”
“Right?” Scott agreed. “The whole time I was talking to him I just kept thinking that he would taste like bitterness and depression.”
“You thought about what he would taste like?” Shelby asked, somewhere between incredulous and amused.
“I mean, doesn’t everyone do that?”
“Not really, no.” Shelby replied, then giggled. “Maybe you’re the mythical creature here, Scott!”
“Eh, I reckon it’s just the starvation talking.” Scott shrugged. Before Shelby’s smile could dim, he continued with— “You’d taste like pumpkin, I think. Or maybe berries? Definitely warm though.”
Predictably, they giggled. “I don’t really know what to do with that information. Or with knowing that you fantasise about what people would taste like. Don’t tell Avid about that, or you’ll be accused of vampirism again!”
Ah yes, that incident. He still couldn’t remember it, obviously, but he’d read it when he’d written down the new information about Owen earlier. A crazy man who called himself a vampire hunter, convinced that Scott was one of said vampires. How ridiculous.
“Hm, perhaps I am a vampire after all.” Scott pondered playfully.
“I don’t know, I don’t think Vampires of all things would be real.” They mused, a bit more seriously. “I’m pretty sure those are just a metaphor for the drain of nobility on the common folk.” Before Scott could say anything to defend nobility, they continued— “But I’m curious now! What do you think Sausage would taste like?”
“…Like meat? Scott replied, confused.
Another giggle. “No— There’s someone in town named that! Or M! He’s a writer!” What a weird name.
“Well, I don’t really remember him well enough to say.” Scott shrugged. “But let me check my notes…”
—
“I’m sorry to tell you this—” The Doctor said, expression a mixture of sickened guilt and remorse. Scott was more focused on the too short wedding dress he was wearing. “—but for some reason you don’t seem to be getting any better.”
“Very sad.” Scott acknowledged, before moving onto the important part. “Does this mean I’m allowed to go to the house judging competition or whatever it was?”
“It really doesn’t.” The Doctor said, eyebrows pinching in a way that seemed weirdly familiar to Scott. He must’ve caused that expression a lot if he could more or less remember it. “The opposite, actually. You’re on bed rest for a reason. If you exhaust yourself, and almost everything would exhaust you in your state, you might just drop dead.”
Wouldn’t be the first time.
… Wow, that was a weird thought.
“Your lack of faith in me is disturbing.” Scott said instead. “I’m not gonna drop dead from walking around for half an hour.”
The Doctor grimaced. “With how everyone in this town is, it’ll probably take much longer than that. And you absolutely will drop dead if you do that. And even if your heart somehow doesn’t give up on you, which, with how irregular it already is, I severely doubt, you’re still at risk for hypothermia, which is even more dangerous than usual in your state.”
“Bit dramatic, I think.” Scott said, drily.
“And if you somehow survive all of that—“ The Doctor continued without missing a beat, looking at him oh so seriously. “—you’ll probably have to deal with permanent medical issues for the rest of your life. Do you want that?” Scott should feel some way about this, he was pretty sure.
But it was more annoying than anything.
“Not really.” Scott said, and that was honest at least. But his lack of proper concern must be obvious, because the Doctor frowned at him, half irritation and half worry.
“Look,” The man said. “You might not care about what’s going to happen right now, but once I manage to figure out the problem and you start to get better, you will. As for right know, others care. If something happened to you, people would be upset.”
“People like who?” Scott asked, genuinely curious. It’s not like he’d talked to many people, house restricted as he was. “You and your weird guilt complex?”
The Doctor grit his teeth. “People like your roommate.”
“I hardly even known Shelby.”
“But they know you.” The Doctor retorted.
And. He was right, Scott supposed. Shelby knew him much better than he knew her, which was definitely a new experience for him. But it had hardly been enough time for that level of attachment. Right? As far as his journal said, the people in this town had known for barely a week at this point. Was that enough time for her to get attached?
He’d quickly clocked her as very friendly and empathetic. It wouldn’t be too impossible.
But then, why would he care? No, he was genuinely asking. It wasn’t like he’d known Shelby for longer than an hour, from his own perspective.
“…Speaking of Shelby, she’s the one who wanted me to come to the… whatever it was.” Scott said instead of answering.
Why would he care? He logically shouldn’t, but he was fond enough to at least go to whatever ridiculous event was happening for them. Weird. Even if he was subconsciously retaining some fondness, a week certainly wasn’t enough for him to get fond of anyone.
Well, technically he wasn’t going out of fondness. He was going because Shelby said the resident vampire hunter, who apparently thought Scott was a vampire, was getting more and more convinced Scott was gonna murder Shelby in their sleep or something, and his roommate was getting genuinely worried that he might break in and kill Scott if he didn’t publicly appear soon.
But he thinks he might’ve gone regardless, if only Shelby had asked him.
Apparently he wasn’t the only one, though, because the Doctors stern frown visibly wavered. Maybe she was just really likeable. “…It’s still too dangerous.” But not likeable enough, apparently. That’s okay, Scott’s own much less natural likeableness could help out.
“If the exhaustion is the problem,” Scott said, pondering thoughtfully as if he hadn’t had this idea since the Doctor mentioned the problem, because according to his notes, the Doctor liked him down to earth. “Then what if I sit on a chair the whole time? Shelby could carry it out, and I’d only need to walk a short distance and immediately sit down again.”
It was such a simple but effective solution that the Doctor visibly blinked. Two times.
“That’s…a good idea, actually.” The man frowned, as if he was shocked such a thing could come out of his mouth. Which, rude? Scott had plenty of good ideas, great ones even! “I’m glad you’re finally taking your health seriously.“ Like walking around would even do anything to his health.
Which a Doctor was saying it would. Maybe his brain wasn’t always the most reliable. Most of the time, but not always. Even geniuses had their blindspots.
“I suppose.” Scott sighed with mild irritation.
When he stood up, the only thing saving him from plummeting to the ground was the Doctors arms steadying him. So maybe the man did have a point, there.
Still, Scott had this weird certainty that he just would not die. Ever.
…Yeah, his brain was not trustworthy when it came to his health. Only then, though!
Though, now that he was looking at the doctors feet, his attention was once again drawn to the mans attire. “You should demand back the money you paid for your wedding dress,” He advised. “It doesn’t fit you at all.”
“For the last time, it’s a doctors robe!”
—
“Vampire!”
“My name’s Scott Goldsmith, actually.”
“He’s not a vampire, Avid.” The Doctor, still wearing his ill fitting not wedding dress, replied, massaging the bridge of his nose. “He’s just sick. Don’t start a mass panic.” By the toneless way he drowned it, the poor man had probably said these words quite often recently.
“Don’t worry, Doc.” Someone with bright orange hair said, sounding more amused than reassuring. “The only one panicking here is Avid.”
“I’m not panicking, I’m being rational!” Avid —which now confirmed that this was the hunter from his journal— said, panicky. “Just look at him!” He gestured wildly in his general reaction. Scott genuinely wondered whether the man was seeing double from lack of sleep, because he was pretty off with it.
Still, the people around obeyed and looked at him hard for a few seconds. Scott put on his most charming smile and waved cheerfully.
“Yeah, no, he’s still just a guy.” The woman standing next to the ginger said, her words revealing sharp teeth. “A really, really sick guy. But still just a guy.”
“I’d like to interject that I’m not ‘just’ anything.”
“Maybe keep quiet for now, Scott.” Shelby whispered, wincing.
“Please don’t involve yourself.” The Doctor said at the same time, voice dead.
Rude!
Scott put up his hands in mock surrender and instead of biting anyone, which he was thinking about a bit too much for it to be healthy, he relaxed into his chair. Well, who was he to stop people from fighting over him. It was a free source of bound to be great entertainment! Now all needed to make the scenario perfect would be one of those birds flying around, dead and bloody between his teeth—
No, that probably wouldn’t help with his already impressive amount of medical difficulties.
“— and he avoids the sun like the plague!”
“Because he’s on bedrest, Avid, he’s been quite insistent on being allowed out out himself.”
“Aye! He even went off and got himself lost in the forest a few days ago, in broad daylight! He is no dark beast, but a man suffering from deadly hunger.“
“Avid, please calm down a little—“
“Lively, aren’t they?” Someone spoke up from just next to Scott, far closer than the others. They’d managed to herd Avid back quite a bit by now, leaving Scott in his lonesome, sitting on a wooden chair. It was quite rude.
“Quite.” Scott agreed, turning around to find a man in bandages. He had vague memories of seeing him somewhere earlier. Trailing behind him was a much less impressive looking guy, glancing nervously between the crowd and the man he was following around. “But it’s just so entertaining, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Things like this is why I thought you were older than me.” The man said, quite confusingly. “You talk like you’re from six centuries ago. No wonder Avid immediately accused you.”
Scott shrugged, as if he didn’t care. And he didn’t, he just didn’t care in a confused way. He looked over towards the crowd. “Proper decorum doesn’t seem to be this towns forte.” Predictably, both mens eyes followed his own. Scott took the time to quickly check who he was talking to. Then he glanced back at the man in bandages. “Or yours, for that matter. I’m surprised you aren’t joining the commotion.”
Probably-Owen, seeing as he had been brooding the whole conversation, scowled at him. “Don’t associate me with beings like them, Scott.” He spat, with quite the venom. Hateful much?
Scott just smiled placidly. “Sure, Mr.Lumberjack. Did you just not want to associate with the oh-so horrible people over there or did you need something from me?”
“If anything, you need something from me.” The man grumbled, then pulled out a vial filled with—
Red.
It was a bottle, fairly small and not holding much, but the content was pure, liquid crimson. It looked delicious. Something about it scratched Scott’s brain, and he found himself fixated on the bottle as the man waved it around a bit as he spoke. Scott couldn’t hear a single word. The only thing he could focus on was the crimson. He needed it. He could imagine the smell perfectly, could imagine the way it would taste rich and like iron and—
“—You even listening to me?” Ow…Owen? asked, snapping his fingers in front of Scotts face. He blinked, snapped out of his trance and tore his gaze away to look at the mans face instead.
He was drooling. Huh. Embarrassing. He quickly wiped it with his sleeve.
“Apologies.”
The man sighed in irritation, but waved him off. “As I was saying, someone suffering from malnourishment should only eat small meals, and since you said you just threw up everything a few days ago—“ Did he? Scott really did not care, he only cared about the fact that it looked like this conversation would end with him getting that bottle and that this must happen at all costs. “—that probably applies to us too. So it’s just a small vial for now. If you can digest it normally, we’ll move onto bigger bottles.”
Scott was getting deja vu. He was pretty sure the Doctor had said something similar, almost word for word. Owen and the Doctor were similar. It would be funny, if Scott could focus on anything that wasn’t the bottle right now.
“Mhm.” Scott said, and it was a difficult task not to snatch the bottle right out of his hand, but he managed. "May I have the vial now?”
Owen frowned. “I’m more surprised you haven’t just snatched it yet.” He said, but moved to hand it over after a quick glance towards where the others had assembled. “That amount of self control is just absurd.” He muttered under his breath.
Scott really didn’t care, because he had the vial now. With a speed truly impressive, considering his hands had been consistently shaking for the whole day, Scott uncorked it and lifted it to his lips. It was downed two seconds later.
It might actually have been the best thing he’d ever tasted. He had vague memories of everything that had entered his mouth the past days tasting rotten to his broken tongue, ending with him throwing it up later. Another weird malnourishment symptom, one that was quite literally leading him towards his death.
But this? Whatever the red stuff was, it tasted heavenly. Scott knew he had good taste, of course, but this truly proved it. The way he could feel a fraction of his hunger lift immediately was incredible. He was pretty sure this was the strongest emotion he’d felt in years.
Owen had stepped back and was watching him cautiously, as if he might start throwing up any second now. Scott sincerely doubted he would, this time. He opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by—
“Scott literally just drank a bottle of blood!” Av… The Hunter yelled, finger pointed towards him in accusation. “Owen just gave him a bottle of blood and he downed it! He’s a vampire, they’re both vampires! I told you so!”
“Avid…” The Doctor said, head in his hands and looking quite despaired. It’s a good look on him.
“That wasn’t blood, you blind idiot.” Scott replied incredulously, crossing his arms. “Why would I drink blood when I can barely even eat anything else? That would be, like, really stupid. I’d just poison myself!”
“Because you’re a vampire!” The man yelled, grabbing his stake. It was quickly taken away by a woman with a monocle, who just sighed like this was in any way a regular situation. “Vampires can only drink blood!”
“Are you even listening to yourself?” Scott demanded, putting more heat behind the words than he actually felt. This whole thing was rather amusing, actually. It was a bit strained by the likely very real threat to his life, but it seemed like the townsfolk would stop any murder attempts by delusional man with wooden stake anyways. “If I’m a vampire, then why haven’t I drunk Shelby’s—“ He really hoped he got the name right. “— blood?! I’ve lived with them for days and I’m obviously starving, but I haven’t attacked them yet, have I?”
“I seriously wonder how.” Owen muttered so quietly Scott could barely even hear it.
“I— Well, I don’t know!” The man admitted, still quite loudly. “But it doesn’t change that I just saw you drink a whole little bottle filled with blood!”
“That wasn’t blood, Avid.” Owen injected, voice flat. “It was just juice I made from the berries in the forest. I overheard the Doctor say Scott was only allowed to eat light meals, and berries are supposed to be healthy. I figured it might help him get better quicker.”
Berry juice huh? Owen was quite the talented juice maker, apparently, because that had been the single most appetising thing he’d ever drunk. He should write that down. That ability of his was no doubt the most important piece of information he’d gathered yet.
“That’s convenient!”
“It’s literally just the truth, actually.” Scott replied, deadpan.
“It’s a lie, that’s what it is!” The man had produced another stake from somewhere, which was once again quickly confiscated by the woman with the monocle. “You’re a vampire and you’re gonna infect us all with it and turn us into monsters!”
“Avid,” The sensible one with the monocle started, but was interrupted before she could say anything substantial.
“Discrimination isn’t cool, Avid!” The person who followed around Owen had blurted, looking panicked the moment incredulous eyes turned into them. Scott had honestly forgotten he was there.
“What?” Avid, so that was his name, asked, just as shocked. “I-I’m not being discriminating?”
“I-I mean, it’s just kind odd to me that you’re so insistent that the malnourished and sick guy is some kind of monster?” They said-asked. “And that he’s gonna ‘infect’ us and all that? That sounds kinda like discrimination to me!”
Was that a thing? Discrimination against the sick? Scott never got sick, so he wouldn’t know. But humans, he thought quite reasonably, would probably find a way to discriminate against anything.
“That does seem a little suspect.” Someone with red hair, not his roommate though, said thoughtfully. Multiple people seemed to be considering it, while a person with bright orange hair seemed to be holding back laughter.
“No it doesn’t!” Avid said, defensively. “I’m not accusing Scott because he’s sick—“
“You were literally doing that a few seconds ago, hello?”
“—I’m accusing him because of his— Aura!” The man said, quite unconvincingly. Getting defensive when called out on bad behaviour only made one look more suspicious, after all. “Y-Yeah, his aura! He just screams vampire!”
“His aura?” The woman with sharp teeth asked. “The only aura he has is literally ‘sick’.” A pause. “ And a smidge of menace I guess.”
“Yeah, that smidge of menace! That’s why!” The man defended. “And I’m accusing Owen too, and he’s not sick! So it’s not discrimination, it’s just coincidence!”
“Actually,” said man interrupted, voice flat. “I’m wearing bandages for a reason. And that reason is sickness, funnily enough.” The Doctor cast Owen a concerned look at that, making the man draw back a bit. Owen disliked doctors, huh?
“Tragic backstory.” Shelby whispered.
“I didn’t know that though!” Avid said desperately, whirling around towards the woman with the monocle. “I’m not being discriminating, right? Is it coming off like that? Because I swear I’m not, I’m actually also—“
“It does seem like that, just a little bit.” Monocle admitted, placing a calming hand on the hunters arm. “But no one actually thinks you’re accusing them because of that, yeah? They’re just trying to make you see what your accusations look like from the outside.”
“Yeah.” Said a butler.
“It does kind off seem weird.” A man holding a book and pen nodded.
“Aye.” Agreed the man with the weird accent. “It does indeed not cast ya in a good light, don’t ya know?”
“I— That’s really not it, I swear!” The hunter said, holding out his hands defensively. “I just think their clothes are a bit old fashioned—“ They literally weren’t, everyone else was just wearing weird things! “—and Scott just looks too perfect to not be a vampire!”
“Why, thank you.” Crooned Scott. “Always nice to hear that my good looks are being appreciated.”
“Your taste is so questionable, Avid.” Said the person with orange hairs, shaking their head. “Half starved and corpse-looking? I mean, you do you, I suppose.”
Avid flushed red. “That’s not what I meant at all! Just— Scott looks like a really pretty corpse! That’s why he gives vampire vibes!”
“You really think that?” Scott asked eagerly. Pretty corpse was basically the best a person could look, in his very objectively right opinion. The only thing that would make it even better was lots of blood. Although, that may just be his hunger speaking. “Stop it, you’re gonna make me blush!”
“Yes, you do have that prince cursed with immortality vibe.” The man holding the notebook nodded, thoughtfully, as if this was something he’d spent a long time pondering. Scott grinned. “Very pretty, definitely.”
“And for being half starved, your bone structure looks really good.” Nodded the woman with the monocle.
“Flattery will get you everywhere.” Scott said, almost honestly. “So feel free to keep it going!”
“No, please just stop flirting with him.” Begged—yes, actually begged, Scott was really beginning to love this place— the man wearing a too short wedding dress.
“Y-Yeah, don’t flirt with the vampire!” Avid agreed, nodding furiously.
“Weren’t you also just doing that?”
“No! I was pointing out his vampire-like good look!”
“I’m pretty sure that’s flirting, actually.” Said the man with the book.
“This town is a blight on the earth.” Muttered Owen, staring off into the metaphorical void. Scott couldn’t relate.