[Change is an odd concept for vampires. Perpetually bound to the bodies they possessed when their blood began to run cold, there's a popular stigma that Charlie's kind don't ever actually change. Wounds heal, cut hair regrows fully over one day's rest, and each new era a kindred faces feels more and more foreign to them.
Charlie is still within a human's lifespan - he understands the idea of stasis conceptually, but the man dedicates as little thought to the abstract 'nature of being' as he can. There's too much in front of him: the lives of humans and the things his peers continue to cling to - the intersection of the two.
The place where he finds the most power.
He's sizing Makoto up with that same curiosity in mind. What has remained the same and what has changed? The boy must be freshly dead to have such little by way of transformation, even if that shift is only in perspective rather than corporeal.
If only he'd met Makoto in his city proper - he could introduce the boy to the subsect of Kindred who delight in molding bodies like clay to fantastical, horrific visages. Those changes do stick.
Oh well. There will be more opportunities to offer - Charlie's always been adept at picking them out. He'll connect the way Makoto's muscles seem to contract in discomfort from the needle with the need for a gentler syringe. One little accommodation at a time is a pace he's comfortable with.]
Yeah? The only thing? [There's a mote of incredulity in Charlie's voice. His head cranes forward, as if searching the boy's mercuric eyes was going to reveal the answer to his vague question.] So you're tellin me the whole eh... damning preference you have wasn't something you picked up with all this? ['All this' being a pointed gesture at Makoto's face.
His hand falls, a glance spared to the nearly full tube of blood before his eyes dart back to Makoto. It's fortunate this is their first meeting - Charlie usually asserts uncannily consistent eye contact. The dart of his eye to the blood would be quite telling in contrast.]
I'm not tryin to shame you. [He adds quickly - Makoto seemed to clam up quickly when his desires were mentioned over text.] I'm not a good guy, you're not gonna make me think any kind of way about you no matter what you like.
I've played cards with some pretty disgusting bastards. And, they've played cards with me. [Implicit vile predilections are the most he's willing to offer, but he turns them back on himself with a congenial double palmed gesture. Body language, a language even beasts can understand - the soft underside of the hand is a sign of trust.]
no subject
Charlie is still within a human's lifespan - he understands the idea of stasis conceptually, but the man dedicates as little thought to the abstract 'nature of being' as he can. There's too much in front of him: the lives of humans and the things his peers continue to cling to - the intersection of the two.
The place where he finds the most power.
He's sizing Makoto up with that same curiosity in mind. What has remained the same and what has changed? The boy must be freshly dead to have such little by way of transformation, even if that shift is only in perspective rather than corporeal.
If only he'd met Makoto in his city proper - he could introduce the boy to the subsect of Kindred who delight in molding bodies like clay to fantastical, horrific visages. Those changes do stick.
Oh well. There will be more opportunities to offer - Charlie's always been adept at picking them out. He'll connect the way Makoto's muscles seem to contract in discomfort from the needle with the need for a gentler syringe. One little accommodation at a time is a pace he's comfortable with.]
Yeah? The only thing? [There's a mote of incredulity in Charlie's voice. His head cranes forward, as if searching the boy's mercuric eyes was going to reveal the answer to his vague question.] So you're tellin me the whole eh... damning preference you have wasn't something you picked up with all this? ['All this' being a pointed gesture at Makoto's face.
His hand falls, a glance spared to the nearly full tube of blood before his eyes dart back to Makoto. It's fortunate this is their first meeting - Charlie usually asserts uncannily consistent eye contact. The dart of his eye to the blood would be quite telling in contrast.]
I'm not tryin to shame you. [He adds quickly - Makoto seemed to clam up quickly when his desires were mentioned over text.] I'm not a good guy, you're not gonna make me think any kind of way about you no matter what you like.
I've played cards with some pretty disgusting bastards. And, they've played cards with me. [Implicit vile predilections are the most he's willing to offer, but he turns them back on himself with a congenial double palmed gesture. Body language, a language even beasts can understand - the soft underside of the hand is a sign of trust.]