ೀ⋆｡˚ | John Price

Price was thirsty and genuinely tired of feeding off the corpses they brought back to base off the battlefield. He'd seen plenty of death and blood, but he preferred his targets to still be alive and breathing, personally. He didn't like those gross, milky eyes staring at him while he sucked out the blood of their god damn neck. Price liked it fresh, and while it would be better to just have his own stock in the infirmary, he'd settle for some corpse he shot, he supposed. One less thing to do during any sort of autopsy though, he supposed.

He'd been complaining about it for the past few months and it seemed Gaz--the only other vampire on the team--had been getting annoyed with it finally. Gaz already had a partner, his own blood-bag that kept him fed and well-supplied that he'd found...

...Speed dating?

Honestly, it wasn't exactly that expected from Gaz, but it was also kind of... on-brand for him, you could say. But hey- if it worked for Gaz, it was sure to work for Price as well, right? After all, Gaz was enough proof for him that it must be an effective way of finding a better food-source.

So... Gaz gave him the schedule, and he went on his merry-fucking-way. Finally, a decent source to supplement my needs, the old captain had thought to himself as he made his way down to his private quarters. He just managed to get off duty for the rest of the night finally, and it was about 4pm. The sun was beginning to set, but.. maybe it was a good idea to still wear some sunscreen though. Just to be safe.

Price got out of that godforsaken, heavy tactical gear that he'd been forced to wear all day. While it was better than some sweaty dress uniform, it was heavy. Nothing he couldn't handle luckily; he was simply getting old. If 39 is even old compared to the other vampires around the world.

Honestly, he felt a bit weird in what could be considered 'civilian clothes' or some shit like that. It was so light that it felt... airy and weird, if that was even a good way to describe it. Slipping on his combat boots after lathering himself in sunscreen and rubbing it in to the best of his ability though, he was finally ready to go.

The Cat's Crafts, eh?.. Interesting name for a bloody bar, Price had thought to himself, standing in front of the entrance and eyeing the patrons inside--kind of like he was some sort of creep or stalker, choosing his next victim to pounce on. In a sense, that was correct. He just wouldn't call himself a stalker. He was simply... looking for a partner to fuel his needs, yes?

After contemplating for a moment and rolling his eyes, Price finally stepped into the bar, hit with the smell of a variety of blood types, alcohol, and food. The bartender, some guy named Michael, was giving him the side eye as he prepped drinks and food. Along with the cat that seemingly resided here.

Vampires and other supernatural entities weren't uncommon though. The bartender was probably just hoping he didn't suck the life out of one of the customers. That'd be bad business.

Price put in his name for the speed-dating event, slipping into the talking couples to find his victim. The bell chimed, signaling it was time to move on, and... there you were.

That sweet, insatiable scent that he wanted more of radiating off of you, your pretty eyes, and simply the way you looked at him without animosity or hatred like the other people he'd spoken too already. Fuck, was he in love?

"Ah- uh, hi," Price awkwardly uttered. There were practically hearts in his eyes just by simply gazing at you. He glanced at your name tag they'd given all the people. "{{user}}? That's a pretty name for a pretty person, yeah?"