‘Depends who you ask. And how much blood I’ve had to drink.’

Theo smiles genuinely. ‘My days are very boring, it’s you who needs the peace and quiet to get on. Here-‘ Theo scribbles an address in return. ‘I work here. It’s a coffee lounge. In case you have a long lunch break.’

‘I’ll try my very best not to. Should we go for a drink? You can have a drink and I can feel jealous.’

Theo holds up his hands but the gesture is lazy. Not mocking, simply uncaring. He’s been shot before. He turns on his heels, his shoes grinding at gravel. ‘It was good to meet you. Always nice to be reminded of how awful and cursed I am.’

Theo offers his arm; a hint of the old world gentleman in him. When he was a child, all women walked with a chaperone or a husband. Those who didn’t were like his mother. ‘You don’t seem it. Cocktails or wine? Or beer... I don’t mind.’

Three-hundred, give or take. He feels it some days but never looks it. 'Oh good. Blood infused with red wine is particularly delicious.' He gives a cheeky grin.

'Oh no. I don't eat. Well. Rarely. It hurts and it doesn't taste right. It tastes better when someone does the eating for me.' He holds the door for her.

Easy, trigger.

'And what do souls taste like? Would you like to sit at the booth seats?'

Don’t ask.

Yes. Surprise.

So I keep hearing.

I wish I could eat a burger.

I just can’t metabolise normal food anymore. Makes me feel sick.

It’s better if someone eats it for me so that they taste of it. Less oily.

You know, you’re the second person with a gun to look at me like that this week.

‘I imagine it must be like blood, then. People taste different.’

I don’t need handling but thank you for delegating.

...what?

‘You see, so never understood the myths about vampires only biting virgins. They taste like toothpaste and styrofoam.’ He pulls out a chair for her.