Eva Cullen meets Bartholomew Swan

The only thing she could feel was the last few warm drops of blood trickling from her mouth and onto the ground. Biting her tongue had been a stupid idea; it had only made things worse.

She could faintly hear the drip of water somewhere, but no footsteps or cars; it was maddening. She had somehow stumbled into perhaps the only place in town that was both decrepit and void of people. Maybe no one would find her for days.

The lead had been a dead-end, as so many of them were lately. No cases, no money, nothing. He hadn't found a good case yet this month, and he had began to worry about paying the rent on his tiny office (which he also lived in). Worse, he had been forced to wonder into the creepier side of town. Though he lived in a particularly decrepit area of town himself, the one he was currently in was far worse.

And now, he found himself unsure of where he was. He furrowed his eyebrows, looking around. He had missed a turn somewhere, he was positive. He moved to turn around and smelled blood. It was faint, but he had become accustomed to searching it out.

He moved down the alleyway between two buildings, though he wasn't sure if they had once been offices or houses. As he turned the corner, he spotted her. She was laying not too far from him, and blood dripped from her mouth into a puddle on the ground. He wanted to move to her, but his instincts told him no. He had no idea what she was, and if the lead he was chasing had, indeed, panned out in this moment, he had best keep his distance.

In that moment, Eva swore she could hear footsteps; she tried to yell, but all that came out was a low, gurgling moan. She couldn't crane her neck to see; she had to sit there, her eyes anxiously scanning the ground for shadows.

He moved closer to her and bent down to examine her. One way to find out if she was what he thought she was, though he was loathe to stick his fingers into the mouth of a potentially dying vampire. Perhaps he could coax her into opening her mouth without the use of his hands.

"Can you hear me?" he asked, trying to move into her line of sight.

Her eye lids flickered slightly, and her irises moved wildly.

"Can you speak?" he asked, though he was unsure if she was aware enough for it to make a difference. There were a number of ways to check if the woman was truly a vampire, as he was now fairly certain of. But he was not fond of being bitten, or swapping blood with someone who might turn out to be human. "If I pick you up, can you promise not to move?"

Her eyes moved again; mustering all of her strength, she managed to blink twice.

"Well, assuming that's a yes, and assuming you won't bite my neck, or anything else you can potentially reach, I'm going to pick you up. But if you move, I am going to leave you here. Are we clear?" he looked at her, and deeming her previous answer sufficient, he picked her up.

Though her surroundings swirled and swam in front of her eyes, a feeling of relief enveloped her chest just before everything went dark.

-x-

Bartholomew knew that it would take a while before he could get his hands on blood. Even with his contacts and his ability to pull strings, he couldn't do it. Therefore, his own blood would have to do.

He had gotten home minutes ago, and he had laid the vampire on his couch. She was not moving, but she was not dead. Well, not dead for a vampire, that is.

Bartholomew removed his trenchcoat and his shirt, as he didn't fancy getting blood stains on it. He simply hoped his chubbiness would not scare the poor girl away. He was nearly 30, and his diet of take-out was not particularly healthy.

He was not sure how much awareness the vampire had, but surely if he offered her his wrist, one way or another, she'd feed. Just to be sure she didn't kill him, he held a stake in his other hand. Though, he had never dealt so closely with a vampire and was unsure of how much of his lore was accurate.

Even so, he knelt beside her and offered his wrist, pressing it to her cold lips.

She unconsciously sank her teeth into his veins and began to drink, very slowly at first. He eyes fluttered open after a few minutes, and she grabbed onto his arm for support.

Silly as it was, he realized only after she bit him he hadn't expected it to hurt. He gasped loudly, digging his fingers into the stake he held in his other hand. Bartholomew looked at her as a bead of sweat ran down his face.

When she had drank her fill, she pushed his arm away.

"Where...where am I?" she moaned, trying to blink away her headache. "I was passed out..."

Bartholomew took his arm back gladly, pressing his hand into the wound. It did not bleed much, but it felt like his entire arm was going to fall off. Then, it stopped. Suddenly, he was fine. He looked at the wound, which was still there, but it appeared to be faded already.

He looked to the vampire, searching her face for signs of hostility. He made sure the stake was still within reach, just in case.

"My house. I'm Bartholomew," he told her. "You owe me an explanation, Ms. Vampire."

"For what? You kidnapped someone who was passed out in an alley..." She tried to sit up, moving slowly and gingerly.

"Yes, well, I wouldn't call you incapable of taking care of yourself," he replied, raising an eyebrow. "Though, you would have been had I not helped you. Which, I'll remind you, I did so only because I'm following a lead on a case."

Bartholomew tried not to look at his arm, but he was still not sure what to think about the feeding and it made him slightly uneasy.

"Word is, a vampire's been attacking people in that area. Now, you wouldn't have anything to do with it, would you?" he looked her over, watching her every move.

She shrugged. "I don't know. I was really, really hungry, but I wanted to keep going...and then someone or something clocked me from behind. Never saw them, but I think I just kind of bled out."

Bartholomew sighed. He supposed he'd have to check up on the area again tomorrow.

"Well...you haven't told me your name yet," he replied, standing up and reaching for his shirt.

"Eva," she said, biting her lip as she watched him. "...Do you always pick up unconscious vampires and let them drink from you?"

At that, Bartholomew had to laugh.

"Hardly," he replied as he buttoned up his shirt. Though, he found himself staring at his wrist more often than not.

He pulled a chair over to the couch and sat in front of her. "The truth is, I'm a paranormal investigator, and it makes my life harder when random people stumble across vampires and call the police..."

Bartholomew smiled.

"...but really, I find it difficult to leave anyone to die, even a vampire."

She nodded, sighing.

"Look, I can just leave, okay? I'm fine. You don't have to keep something like me in your house, if it bothers you?" She forced a smile.

He waved a hand.

"I've no problems with your kind, or any kind, actually, so long as you don't kill humans or make yourselves obvious. Otherwise, it's just another headache for me." He smiled at her, "but you're too cute to do any of that, right?"

She blushed and stared at her hands.

"Well, no, really, it's fine--I need to get back out there, I think. I haven't been able to find a job or an apartment or anything, and passing out on the street is getting old."

"Well, you can stay here for a while. I'm sure the bit of blood I gave you isn't sufficient. In a while, I can let you have more," he offered, smiling warmly at her.

Bartholomew wasn't entirely sure why he was being so nice, but it felt like the right thing to do. There was no harm in it, so long as he wasn't feeding a serial killer.

After a moment of consideration, she nodded and sunk underneath the blankets again.

"What do you want in exchange?"