Chapter Text
Year 286 of the Rule of the Vampiric High Council
Year 2703 by the calendar of the Old World
“Presenting the donor class of 286.”
Yeosang’s handler reads from a holocron, the shining blue words scrolling by. The audience before him contains twelve sergeants; undead skin pale, almost translucent under the harsh lights of the discharge hall.
Yeosang stands ramrod straight, his eyes down. One of twelve, he represents the newest class of genetically engineered blood donors. The newest offering from the Optimized Provisions branch of the Ressovsky Association of Haematic Sciences. He’s been optimized to keep vampires alive on the field of battle – and off it.
He's belonged to the Upyri Republic Defense Department since he was an embryo.
His class is split into two groups. Six boys, six girls. He’s never seen the female members of his cohort. Military units were segregated by sex when he was created and so the donor classes followed suit. And though the Vampiric Council ordered the desegregation of the military under Ruling 573, Provision C, RHS only followed suit with the generations of donors created after that ruling.
Curiosity pokes at him, but he keeps his eyes firmly on the ground. Unseeing.
The boys, he does know. Their schedules included time together. Once a week, in the hour after their session with their doctors and before their set bedtime. Emotional development was the given reason.
Thinking back on those nights, Yeosang isn’t so sure.
“Does it hurt?” Kai’s voice trembles. The youngest of their cohort, he’s only just turned sixteen.
Yeosang lays on his cot, head pillowed in Soobin’s lap, face beading with sweat. The surgery was a success, the doctors say. But Yeosang’s abdomen throbs and the touch of a cloth as Yeonjun tries to dab his sweat away is like fire to his skin.
“A-A little,” Yeosang says. He doesn’t know why he lies. It won’t make a difference in the end.
The door opens and closes. Their doors are heavy. Hard to move quickly or quietly.
“I brought more ice.”
It’s Taehyun. The sound of ice clinking against the bucket follows him.
“Thank you.”
Yeosang flinches away as Yeonjun brings it to his forehead, trying to bury his head further into Soobin’s lap. Soobin stops him.
“Shh, it’s for your own good.” Soobin’s voice is quiet, gentle. Yeosang often thought he was too gentle to have survived the program.
Yeonjun leans over to bring the ice to his temple.
He frowns, “They shouldn’t have left you like this.”
“Yeonjun.” Beomgyu interjects.
He’s sitting on the floor by the door and has been since Yeosang was brought to them. Yeosang shifts towards him, biting back against the pain that flares. Beomgyu’s face is ashen, his arms tight around his knees. A dark bruise mars his jaw.
“It’s dangerous.” Yeonjun says sharply. His voice is somewhere between a whisper and a shout, “If we’re such valuable assets, why aren’t there nurses here monitoring him? What are we going to do if he gets worse?”
Yeonjun’s a…special case at RHS. He’d been brought in when he was eight and already had ideas about how the world should work. An experiment in testing the capabilities of natural-born humans against science-born humans.
Their handlers did not approve and the experiment was never attempted again.
“He’s not going to die overnight,” Beomgyu pushes back. “If you keep complaining, they’ll punish us all. Then we’ll really be in trouble.”
Yeonjun opens his mouth, but Yeosang grabs at his hand. The other boy turns back to him.
“It…It’s okay.”
Beomgyu’s right. And…and Yeosang is scared that if Yeonjun keeps pushing their handlers, they’ll separate them again. It’s far worse to go from the operating table to a cold, empty room.
Yeonjun sighs. He cards his fingers through Yeosang’s sweat-soaked hair. They catch on knots and tangles, but it gives Yeonjun something to work on and Yeosang likes the feeling.
“Okay, okay.”
Yeosang leans into his hand with a smile.
“Kang Yeosang, 20, registered and certified by RHS Optimized Provisions.”
His handler’s voice jolts him back to the present moment. He’s never known his handler’s name. It’s strange, in a way, that even now he hasn’t heard it.
“Assigned to URS Shadow. Reporting to Sergeant Boo Seungkwan.”
The vampire that steps forward looks younger than Yeosang expected. He’s around the same height as Yeosang, but physically broader. His brown hair is gelled back professionally and his military uniform is tailored neatly to his proportions. It’s much more involved that Yeosang’s, with a thick, black jacket embroidered with insignias and identifying patches.
A donor’s outfit is a simple pair of beige cargo pants, black boots, and a boatneck white shirt. Easy to find in a crowd, easy to get to his neck, and easy to bleach clean.
Yeosang goes to him with measured steps. His heart’s beating steadily. He wonders, absently, if it’d be racing if it hadn’t been modified to not react to stress. His stomach’s certainly twisting in knots.
The assignments go out systematically. It’s all business. He tries not to react as each member of his cohort is assigned to different units, but he can’t help as his eyes trace their movements.
Taehyun to Sergeant Jeon Jeongguk.
Kai to Sergeant Kim Seokjin.
Beomgyu to Sergeant Moon Byulyi.
Soobin to Sergeant Kim Namjoon.
Yeonjun is last. Assigned to Sergeant Min Yoongi’s unit. Yeosang breathes a small sigh of relief as he follows the rules. A small bow to his Sergeant, and then he keeps his eyes on the ground.
Once he’s certain Yeonjun is safe, he brings his eyes back to the ground where they belong. It’s cement. The discharge room is the one area of the Compound he’s never been in and it’s no different from the grey floors of the training room, of the examination room, of his own sleeping quarters.
It’s the last time he’ll ever see it. There’s a thrill of excitement knowing he’ll never see these cement floors again.
“Dismissed.”
The vampires and their donors all give a short bow. Yeosang stays two steps behind his Sergeant, as he was trained, as he walks out of the hall and into an elevator. The elevators lead to a hotel for visiting military personnel, but out of the corner of his eye, he can see some of his classmates guided away from the elevators.
Towards the doors to the outside world.
He tries not to be jealous as the elevator doors close in front of him. It’s silent on the ride up. Sergeant Boo doesn’t look at him.
Ding.
The elevator doors slide open, light spilling in.
Yeosang restrains his desire to look up. The hotel attached to the Compound technically belongs to RHS, but it’s meant for visitors. What if it looks different? It could be made of different materials, or even have different lights illuminating the halls. But it’s improper for him to stop and look around.
And he knows what happens to donors that don’t know their place.
Sergeant Boo exits ahead of him, steps sure. Yeosang follows and is greeted with something excitingly new. The floor is black marble instead of dull cement. It reflects the bright lights of the hall and Sergeant Boo’s formal boots click sharply against the material, sound echoing around them.
Yeosang was given new work boots for his discharge day. The rubber squeaks against the polished surface and he tries not to wince.
The sergeant comes to a halt in front of a door. There’s a tap and an affirmative Beep!
Yeosang looks up for only a moment and nearly gasps. It’s the most ornate room Yeosang has ever seen. Fancier than he could have ever imagined.
The suite opens into a shining kitchenette. A living space lays right behind; there’s a new grey couch positioned neatly next to a window covered by heavy drapes. A painting of a forest hangs above the couch. There are doors on either side but Yeosang pulls his gaze back to the floor.
The black marble continues in here, shining and spotless.
“This way.” Sergeant Boo directs him past the living space, into an office.
He sits gracefully behind a dark wood desk and pulls a file out of the drawer. Paper, surprisingly. He must be an old vampire. He gestures for Yeosang to sit opposite him.
“When we get back to camp, you’ll stay with our medic. Medical Officer Chwe Hansol, human.”
Yeosang stumbles slightly as he sits. Nowhere in his training did RHS mention humans in the military.
From what he’d been taught, that was a thing of the past. Now, eligible humans trained and studied for years for the honor of being turned. The Vampiric High Council mandated seventy-five years in the military after they were turned, but then they were free to live their lives the way they wished.
“Our unit has five vampires, two humans. Humans take care of non-battle tasks. They’re too…breakable.” Sergeant Boo must have noticed his confusion because he elaborates, “It’s a recent change. Under current guidelines, joining a unit pre-turning is the last step of their training.”
Yeosang nods. He resists the urge to twist his hands together. RHS was very clear that donors should require no explanation. They should follow their sergeants without question.
Sergeant Boo is unaware of his internal turmoil, though, “Officer Chwe will be in charge of your meals, as well as coordinating our feedings. We prefer our blood from blood bags, so he will pull your blood daily. On the field, you’ll be expected to be ready to be fed from directly.”
Yeosang nods again. Though not a hard and fast rule, it’s standard procedure for military units. Less messy and easier to track how much blood he’s given.
“Your file says you can supply enough blood to bring fourteen vampires back from the brink of death before risking injury and death. That’s the top percentile of your donor class. Is that accurate?”
“Yes, sir.” Yeosang says.
He hopes his voice didn’t shake. The day they tested how much he could give hovers at the edge of his consciousness. He forcefully pushes the memory down.
“Hm,” Sergeant Boo flips through his file. “Impressive. We’ll of course keep an eye on you, but with that in mind, we may also lend you out while on the field, as necessary. Genetically engineered donors are in short supply, as I’m sure you know.”
A shiver runs down his spine. It’s against procedure. But procedure is second to whatever your sergeant says.
From what he’d been taught, most units relied on a series of normal human donors. With one human donor per every two vampires, they could give enough to satiate, but they couldn’t give them enough blood to speed up the healing process if they were injured – or bring a vampire back from the edge of death.
That’s where genetically engineered donors come in.
The Sergeant peers at him, “RHS sometimes…exaggerates their successes. If this number is not accurate, I need you to tell me.”
“It’s…” Yeosang wets his lips, “It’s accurate. If each vampire needs four liters of blood, my body can regenerate enough blood with no more than three minutes between feedings for fourteen vampires, as per regulation standards.”
“And, on average, how long between feedings do you need to regenerate four liters of blood?”
“One minute, sir.”
“I’m guessing this increases slightly the faster you're fed from?”
“Yes, sir.” Yeosang hesitates, “After ten feedings, I need two minutes and forty-five seconds to regenerate fully. Though…depending on how quickly I’m needed, I can be fed from and regenerate simultaneously. Up to 56 liters.”
Sergeant Boo quirks an eyebrow, “Good to know, but hopefully it won’t come to that. And should you be bled to your limit, you’ll need a week of recovery, is that accurate?”
“To bring me back to full functionality, yes, sir.”
“Mm,” The Sergeant writes something in the margins of his file, “One more thing.”
He pulls a silver choker from a drawer. The metal shines under the harsh overhead lights.
A tracker.
RHS had taken their’s off Yeosang this morning, but it’s standard procedure to wear a tracker. Useful if he’s ever busy helping one vampire and another needs him. It bio-locks to the unit. Unless they take it off him or die, it will be nearly impossible to remove without snapping his neck in the process.
He was prepared to be outfitted with another one, but his stomach still twists as the Sergeant steps behind him. He clasps the collar around Yeosang’s neck, tightening it until it’s snug. His hands are cold as ice.
“Too tight?”
“No, sir.”
“Very well,” Sergeant Boo sits back down, pulling his tablet in front of him, “You are dismissed.”
Yeosang nods and stands. And then stops…what is expected of him when he isn’t being of use? Where is he allowed to be, what is he allowed to do?
“Sir?” It comes out soft, tentative.
“Yes?”
Do not speak unless spoken to. Do not act unless instructed. These are the basic tenets of being a RHS donor.
“Nevermind, sir.”
Anxiety swirls inside him, but the sergeant doesn’t seem to think anything of his hesitation. He just waves him off.
Unsure, but relieved he hasn’t messed up already, Yeosang makes his way back to the main living space. Now that he’s alone, he can really look around. There’s a bedroom off to the other side. It’s…most similar to his resting quarters in the Compound.
Maybe that’s where he should wait?
He stops abruptly at the door. There’s a suitcase in front of the meticulously made bed. This must be where Sergeant Boo sleeps – if he chooses to. Vampires need far less rest than humans.
Either way, it’s not a space Yeosang is meant to be in.
He backs away, glancing around the room.
His eyes catch on the drape-covered window.
Yeosang has never seen the outside world. He’s only gotten glimpses through pictures in his holocrons. Carefully manicured to include only the most important information.
The curtains are a deep emerald and heavy enough to block out the sun in the middle of the day. It’s not necessary. Vampires have long since evolved to survive exposure to sun, though most still prefer the darkness.
His hand hovers over the cloth. There’s a sliver of sunlight peeking out. Surely it wouldn’t hurt? He’d put it right back.
Do not act unless instructed.
His hand falls to his side. Right.
He stands at attention instead, like he’s been trained to. And he waits.
–
They leave in the dead of night. Yeosang keeps his eyes on the ground. He’s a little disheartened to find that the walkway from the hotel is the same cement of the Compound. He’s even more disappointed when he ushered into a windowless army vehicle.
The dark of the car is off putting, even though the ride is smooth. Sergeant Boo sits across from him, eyes on his data pad. Yeosang’s never had a datapad before – unlike holocrons, they’re connected to the internet, to the world.
He can’t see what Sergeant Boo is working on from here so he brings his gaze back to the floor.
A knot of anxiety is growing in his stomach. Harder and harder to ignore.
He’s never been given nothing to do. At the Compound, he was either with the doctors, studying, or fast asleep. Every moment was scheduled to ensure he was the best tool he could be. His training took up his whole life.
Here though, his role suddenly feels very small. He’s a medical supply. Nothing more.
And he knows – he does – that this is the role he is destined to play. He’s been told countless times.
Maybe it’ll feel better when he’s drained.
Yes.
At least then the familiar sluggishness of blood loss would make his mind less active. He leans back against his seat and closes his eyes.
He lets the hours pass, trying to force his brain into an almost meditative state. But once they leave the maglev streets of Lilitu, he feels every bump and dip, every corner taken too quickly. The jarring of the car wears at his nerves and he’s desperately tired when the vehicle finally comes to a stop.
“We’re here.” Sergeant Boo clicks his datapad closed.
Yeosang stands at once. His head aches and he’s mildly nauseous. But he doesn’t let himself sway as he jumps down and out of the car.
His feet slide a little as they hit the ground. He stares down in surprise.
Because below his boots is dirt. He marvels at the way it gives beneath his boots. There’s even small plumes of dust that are dispersed with every step he takes. It’s nothing like the concrete he grew up with or the marble of the hotel.
Sergeant Boo leads him through the camp, but he’s not even interested in looking around. The ground is patterned with the shapes of shoes of all sizes, lines drawn by carts that go off in all directions. His eyes follow them, tracing the swirls and shapes.
“This is the medical tent.”
Yeosang nearly crashes into Sergeant Boo.
The tent perfectly matches what he’s seen on his holocrons. It’s a large, geometric building designed to be quick to put up and quick to tear down. Made of durable material that won’t budge under wind or rain with electricity running through the poles, it’s nothing like the tents of old. The inside should feel no different than an ordinary building.
His knowledge proves correct once he steps inside. The ground is made up of beige tiles that can be snapped together and folded away easily. The walls are lined with medical supplies and a few cots are set up in the back of the room with an examination table in the center.
It’s well lit, fluorescent lights lining the poles that make up the ceiling. They make Yeosang queasy.
“Seungkwan – you’re back!” A human rushes over to them. His brown hair is cut short to military regulations and he’s dressed in a white doctor’s coat. His skin is a warm gold.
Medical Officer Chwe.
He gives Yeosang a once over, “Is this the donor?”
“Kang Yeosang, top of his cohort,” Sergeant Boo says, “I sent a copy of his file to you.”
“Excellent,” Officer Chwe claps his hands, “I’ll take it from here.”
Sergeant Boo nods and turns without much fanfare.
“Don’t forget to come to breakfast tomorrow,” The medical officer narrows his eyes, “08:00 sharp! We’re making your favorite!”
Sergeant Boo just waves his hand. Yeosang can’t help but stare at the officer in shock. He was a human and he just shouted at a vampire. And not just any vampire but his sergeant.
“Ah, he’ll come around,” Officer Chwe says, “Seokmin’ll drag him out if he doesn’t.”
He looks at Yeosang as though expecting something. A response? Yeosang has no idea what to say. So instead, he drops his eyes to the tiles.
“Well, we’re glad you’re here.” Officer Chwe continues, “We’ve been getting our blood shipped in since we lost our last donor. Not ideal for a navy unit.”
Lost their last donor?
“Your meal times will be at 07:00, 12:00, and 18:00. I’ve used the RHS recommendations to build a meal plan, but if you’re feeling too weak, please tell me.”
Officer Chwe crosses the room and taps lightly on the side of the tent. A panel lifts up to reveal a small room. Not unlike the rest of the tent, only this one holds a standard military cot. The lights aren’t as harsh in this room.
“And this is where you’ll rest – you do need rest, right?” Officer Chwe asks. Yeosang nods.
“Good, I’d have felt silly if I’d prepared it for you and then you didn’t even need to sleep.”
“Eight hours is still preferable, sir.” Yeosang says hesitantly.
“Ah, no need to call me sir, just Hansol’s fine.” Officer Chwe – Hansol – waves his hand, “I’ll be called sir plenty in my lifetime.”
Yeosang nods again.
“Alright, unless you have any questions, I’d like to get your first draining out of the way,” Hansol says, “It’s late enough as it is.”
Yeosang shakes his head. He doesn’t have any questions.
“Okay, up you get,” Hansol points to the exam table.
It’s one of the ones that can rise and lower and it’s set up so Yeosang can sit in it, rather than need to lay fully back. It’s covered in a sheet of paper.
Yeosang winces as the paper crunches beneath him. Hansol wheels over a medical cart. A tray holds the medical materials needed and there’s a machine on the bottom that’s hooked up to a bag. There are markings on the bag – up to 20 liters. It’s a little…unsettling to see. The doctors at the Compound always kept the blood bag behind them.
“Arm.”
Yeosang holds out his arm. Hansol ties a rubber band around it before quickly inserting a SPIVC. It’s easy to find Yeosang’s veins. They were designed that way.
Yeosang stares at the plastic tube. He learned about these back at the Compound. A specialized type of catheter that can stay in him for up to a week before it needs to be changed. It makes it easier for them to take his blood.
It also means he has to live with a needle in his arm. A small needle – the current design is flexible so he can easily move his arm. But a needle nonetheless.
Hansol connects a tube to the SPIVC and Yeosang watches the red of his blood flow out and towards the container. The intermediary machine whirs to life as blood passes through.
“It’ll count the liters for us, there’ll be a two minute break every four liters.” Hansol says, “Wave me down if you need anything, I’m going to tidy up for tomorrow.”
Yeosang nods and Hansol bustles away. There’s the sound of bottles clinking and drawers opening and closing but Yeosang lets it all fade to the background. It’s easy with the machine buzzing away next to him.
The familiar haze of blood loss starts to creep up on him. It’s a relief.
He doesn’t know how much time passes before Hansol returns. His hands are gentle – and surprisingly warm – as he disconnects the tube and wraps it away. He doesn’t jolt the needle left in Yeosang’s arm.
“All done,” Hansol hums as he finishes up. “No need to drain you all the way, I just pulled enough for a few days of feedings. We’re on break until we have a large enough stockpile of blood to be comfortable. But with how fast you regenerate, it should only take us about a week to get fully ahead.”
Even through his haze, the all too familiar curiosity is still there, poking at him. He wants to ask where they’ll go when the time comes, even though it’s unlikely Hansol even knows.
Do not speak unless spoken to.
Yeosang nods to show he understands. He doesn’t speak.
“Well, I’ll see you in around two hours with your morning meal.” Hansol yawns, “I have to get this to processing and I need to get some sleep myself…Just because Seungkwan doesn’t need sleep doesn’t mean I don’t.”
The last sentence is muttered under his breath.
Yeosang watches with interest as he takes the cart and tries to roll it out of the medical facility. It’s awkward – Hansol has to push the door open, prop the cart against it so it doesn’t close again, and then stop it from crashing back into him once the cart has finally made its way through.
After a few groans and a muttered curse, Hansol’s manages, door shutting firmly behind him. Then there’s a clicking sound, like he’s locking up for the night.
He probably is, Yeosang thinks.
His mind drifts for a bit. Exhaustion pulls on the edges of his consciousness as his body adjusts to the lack of blood. And then his blood regenerates. A small bit of energy starts to pulse through his veins.
He should really move. They might need the examination table tomorrow – Hansol might need it before he wakes up and, with no alarm, Yeosang has no way to make sure he’s awake before the medical officer returns.
He’ll just have to hope Hansol will wake him when it’s time for breakfast.
Yeosang forces his limbs to move and then drags himself over to the small room. He flops onto the cot. It’s…different from his hard mattress at the Compound. It sways a little under his weight.
Yeosang lets out a small sigh as he lays on his back. His eyes trace the poles of the tented ceiling. He used to sit up with Soobin at night, talking about a future where they were free of cement ceilings and walls. Wondering what it would be like to see the stars outside of holocrons.
Some medical tents have skylights. This is not one of those tents.
He wonders if any of the others have gotten lucky. If they’re looking up at the stars right now.
–
The days pass and the task force of URS Shadow seem nice.
Hansol mentions they have a corresponding ground unit that stays with them whenever they’re not deployed and from what Yeosang can tell, they have a lot of fun together. He can make out small snippets of their conversations through the walls of the medical tent as they pass by.
More than that though, he can hear when they laugh and shout and sing once the sun has set.
Most nights, he finds himself sitting facing the sounds. He squints to see if he can make out where they’ve set up their campfire for the night. If he closes his eyes, he can feel the warmth of the fire. He can see the members of his unit talking happily. They look like his class back at the Compound in his mind. He can hear Kai in their laughter if he tries hard enough.
They’re not out there. Yeosang knows it but…he can’t help but imagine it. In his imagination, he’s out there too, watching sparks fly up into the sky.
He wonders if he’ll ever meet the members of his actual unit.
His answer comes one morning, on the seventh day after his arrival. Hansol has just brought him his breakfast (rice, an unappetizing slab of ham, charred spinach, and a few pieces of dried peach) when Sergeant Boo enters the medical tent.
“Oh good, you haven’t taken his blood yet.”
“Not yet.” Hansol sounds surprised to see the sergeant. He’s sitting next to Yeosang, scrolling through his datapad.
“Perfect,” Sergeant Boo pulls out a holocron and hands it to Hansol. Yeosang puts his chopsticks down.
“We’ve been cleared to deploy tomorrow.” The sergeant says, “There’s conflict in the northern islands. We’ve been ordered to subdue it.”
His eyes dart to Yeosang. “The details of the campaign should be on this holocron.”
Hansol’s eyebrow quirks at the obvious redirect, but he accepts it. His eyes flit rapidly as he taps through the holocron. Yeosang keeps his own gaze on the table though he feels a hint of excitement. They’ll be going on a ship. Yeosang’s never been on a ship. He wonders what it will look like, what it will feel like to be on the water.
“Winter conditions, I’ll prepare for it.”
“Good. And you’ll keep Yeosang with you. Where you go, he goes.”
“Got it.”
Sergeant Boo nods, “Tomorrow. 06:00.”
“Aye, aye,” Hansol gives a mock salute.
Yeosang once again wonders if he has a death wish, but Sergeant Boo just sighs. Yeosang thinks he might see a small…smile? on his face as he turns to leave.
Strange.
“Well, eat up!” Hansol nudges him, “We’ll get our things ready first – I’ll drain you after so you have plenty of time to rest before we leave tomorrow.”
The preparation goes quicker than Yeosang thought it would. Hansol has kept the space in order and he only has to decide what he wants packed into boxes for the ship. It’s not long before another human arrives, rolling in piles of light weight metal containers.
This human’s hair is shiny with gel – though pieces of his hair still fall into his face.
“Ah, here you are – perfect!” Hansol waves him in, “Ah, Seokmin, you haven’t met Yeosang yet, have you?”
The man – Seokmin – stops and looks at Yeosang in surprise. Yeosang gives him a bow. It’s slightly improper, his hands are full with bedding.
“No – this is the donor, right?”
“Yep.” Hansol picks a box up, setting it on the counter so he can start filling it, “Seokmin, Yeosang, Yeosang, Seokmin. Seokmin’s also a vampire-in-training.”
Yeosang gives another bow, “Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise.” Seokmin says. He looks Yeosang up and down like he’s sizing him up.
Hansol steps in front of Yeosang, hands on his hips. “Aren’t you here to help?”
Seokmin turns an interesting shade of red and immediately tries to back up, “Ah—”
Hansol doesn’t let him. He grabs him by the wrist and pulls him towards the cabinets of supplies.
“Perfect! Yeosang, you take the bedding and layer it in that container. Seokmin, you can help me double check our stock.”
“Hansol,” Seokmin whines.
“Nope! You’ll be grateful we did it when you fall down the stairs again.”
“That was one time!”
Seokmin goes to hit Hansol but the other human dodges with a shout of joy. He runs to the other side of the room, Seokmin hot on his heels. Hansol grabs the rolling medical cart, swinging it in between them to act as a barricade.
Yeosang follows his orders. He places the bedding carefully into its lightweight container, but he can’t tear his eyes away from them. They’re so full of life.