"I'm not saying you have to enjoy it," Edward protested. He didn't want to think about whatever system Kratzer must have had - his idea would definitely have been on the safer and more morally just side, he was sure.
"I have standards," he informed his brother dryly. "I might be a demonic mercenary, but I've got a reputation and some dignity to uphold here."
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
"Yeah, but at what cost?" Edward replied. "How many people have been emotionally scarred by you sucking their blood? If it's a hickey, they're at least expecting a little pain going into the whole thing."
"All zey have if I do it my vay is a bit of missing time. Confuses ze Hölle out of zem but never hurts anyvone, particularly at night," he answered. "Sometimes zey von't even realize zere is missing time. Besides, I vouldn't really have enough time to feed if I vas pretending to give zem a hickey." His gaze still followed the human below. He seemed to be sober, if his gait was anything to go by, which was a bit surprising in this part of town at this time of night. A perfect, unsuspecting target. He'd need to feed soon - preferably before sunlight started burning him on contact - but he didn't want to with Edward there. D***. This was a perfect chance.
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
Edward glanced between his brother and the passerby down outside the window.
"Well, you could have said that sooner and saved me the trouble of coming up with that hickey plan," Edward said. He leaned a little closer to the window, then looked back at Kratzer. "Are you going to go feed on him? I'm okay with you doing it if you are."
He hesitated. He'd have to do it soon, and it was unlikely Edward would be gone by that time. The last thing he needed was for the sun to come up the next morning and burn him, or, worst case scenario, cause spontaneous combustion. That had happened once - and he didn't care to repeat the experience.
"Ja, just give me five," he said, setting down the bottle and hooking his fingers under the window to open it. He knelt on the sill as he waited for his target to wander under him, then jumped and disappeared from view. There was a muffled yelp, a thump, and then silence.
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
Edward almost glanced out the window to see how it was going, but ultimately decided that his brother would probably like a little more privacy than that. He waited for a few minutes before scooting a little closer to the window.
"How's it going?" he shouted down; he hoped no one was close enough to overhear them. "Is it a good meal?"
There was a long pause before he heard a muffled whump and Engel's voice drifting back up to him. "More zan enough to suffice," he replied, clambering back up through the window. His eyes were still a sharp metallic hue and his canines were elongated. A few spots of blood still shone on his shirt as well as on his chin. His demeanor and gait were also a different than before; more fluid, quieter, somehow keener and more intense. Less like a human and more like a predatory demon.
He alighted on the ground and licked the blood off his lips. "Zat should cover me for at least another veek, vis any luck."
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
"That's good," Edward said. He noticed the change, but decided to not draw attention to it. He didn't want to broach that uncomfortable subject. "So, what now? It's looking pretty dark out - I'm guessing it's time to catch some sleep."
He nodded. "Ja, zat's probably vise. I'll keep vatch. Not like I'm going to sleep much tonight anyvays." He paused, glancing at the vodka. "Vell, not unless I have more of zat zan I should, at any rate."
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
Edward followed his gaze over to the vodka, then nodded. He knew he should be offering to keep watch - he was already dead, so lack of sleep wasn't going to kill him. But if Kratzer wanted to take up that role, then he wasn't going to argue. He was feeling a little tired, and some sleep would make him more aware in the morning.
He could figure out how to get back to his reality when he woke up.
The night was long, and terribly uneventful. The moon came and went, the stars blotted out by thick clouds of light that turned a sky full of subtle colors a monotone gray.
Gray turned to silver and silver to azure as night gave way to day. He didn't bother waking Edward up; if he slept in, he probably needed it, and if not then they'd get an early start.
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
Edward was an early riser. Claire had always joked that it was because of his time in the military, but it wasn't - he had always been like that. He awoke when the sky was just beginning to shift from darkness to light, the sunlight just beginning to filter in through the window.
Of course, the scene wasn't as nearly as peaceful as it appeared; he was completely tangled up in the sheets, and his attempts to slip out resulted in him rolling off of the bed. He hit the ground with a thud and a startled cry, head slamming against the ghostly pile of clothes and shoes he had left beside the bed the night before.
"Vakey vakey," was Kratzer's morning greeting. It probably could've been a little friendlier or hospitable, but, then again, the German man was hardly known for his bedside manner. He was sitting on the windowsill with his sketchbook, a half-formed picture of an old man on the page. The figure seemed largely mundane--sitting in a rocking chair, staring out a window--but for the crows that sat about him and tore at his flesh as though he were already dead. Perhaps he was. Either way, the beasts of carrion didn't mind.
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
Then he began to frustrating task of trying to get himself untangled, which took a good few minutes before he was finally free. He deposited the sheets in a tangled pile on the bed. He didn't bother to untangle them further; his one goal had been to get himself free.
He slipped the clothes he had taken off for the night back on - thankfully, the hair clip had managed to stay in while he had been sleeping.
"So," Edward started, brushing the dust off of his uniform, "what are we going to do now that I'm awake?"
If you have built castles in the air, your work need not be lost; that is where they should be. Now put the foundations under them. — Henry David Thoreau, "Walden"
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