Alaric wasn't sure what was worse: the fact that he knew he was moody, or the fact that he couldn't stop feeling it. All his instincts were on overdrive, screaming something is wrong and, yeah, he accepted something was wrong. But what was he going to do about it? What was wrong?
"I'm stuck in a haunted mental asylum with you. I have reasons." It was a flimsy defense at best. To be truthful, being around Damon wasn't something that really made him uncomfortable. Wary, maybe. Not uncomfortable. Damon might not have as much memory of it as he did, but he'd spent more time with the guy than most people would believe. And more than he deserved he reminded himself.
- That wasn't the point.
Big surprise the med wing was pitch-black, just like everything else. He was sick of playing meat shield, and definitely sick of Damon invading his personal space for the umpteenth time. "You go first. I'm not dying for you again."
He wasn't looking at Damon's face when he spoke, but the knife in his hand.
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"I'm stuck in a haunted mental asylum with you. I have reasons." It was a flimsy defense at best. To be truthful, being around Damon wasn't something that really made him uncomfortable. Wary, maybe. Not uncomfortable. Damon might not have as much memory of it as he did, but he'd spent more time with the guy than most people would believe. And more than he deserved he reminded himself.
- That wasn't the point.
Big surprise the med wing was pitch-black, just like everything else. He was sick of playing meat shield, and definitely sick of Damon invading his personal space for the umpteenth time. "You go first. I'm not dying for you again."
He wasn't looking at Damon's face when he spoke, but the knife in his hand.