Aha, triumphantly I try again to write a Lupin fic! Although, I am worried about the fact that it is AU, and I think they are a bit out of character. Ah well, I have to start on the next chapter soon anyways. And I really, really doubt it will be anywhere near the length of this chapter. Well, I guess… Wish me luck, okay?

Disclaimer; Don't own, don't sue.

--

It had been, oh, about four weeks, let's say, since Detective Koichi Zenigata was put on this case. One that had started in his home town of Tokyo. People had been disappearing in night clubs, and at night just in general. The people of Tokyo were getting nervous, and sales and tourism figures were dropping. Even the younger Tokyoites were more weary of the nightlife, although it seems nothing could keep a city like that from sleeping. The hardest hit neighbourhoods seemed to be Ueno, Akihabara, and even the wealthy Ginza.

They had four suspects in the case, but only by appearance. No names, no DNA, not even a blasted finger print for the poor police! The one that had stuck out in Zenigata's mind was one dressed in a red coat, also said to have a yellow tie, and white pants. The man has snorted when he read the description, a man wearing such clothing? It was a wonder that he hadn't already been arrested.

Zenigata's first encounter with the man had been accidental, he had been walking to the train station from work, and happened by a red jacketed man exiting a seedy night club. Zenigata had tailed the man, hoping this indeed was the man they had been searching for. They had been in the Akihabara area then, and by the end of it, he had trailed the man all the way to Ryougoku! It was getting ridiculous, and Koichi knew it had to stop soon, before they ended up who knows where! He had sped up his pace, trying to get closer to the man in the red jacket. But the other turned around a corner, and seemed to disappear from sight. Even after scouring the area, all he managed to find was his favourite ice cream at Family Mart, and a closed Hundred Yen store. Kicking a bike rack in frustration, Zenigata walked towards the train station, though he swore he could hear someone laughing at him, as the a train rolled by, drowning out the sound.

His second encounter again, happened by chance. Again, with the cover of night, he spotted a man with a red jacket. He wondered, with all the people in Tokyo, how he had managed to run into the same man, again, and both times when he was off the clock. This time, the man was in a bar, covered in shadows, and slyly talking to some girl or another. Zenigata could hear that slightly French accented voice from where he was at the bar. Downing his drink, he prepared to call in help, only to look up and find the man gone. Bills on the booth's table, were the suspect had once been. He looked to the door, but the man was already gone. Zenigata cursed his luck, and ordered another drink. The chief wouldn't believe his story if he was drunk, so it didn't seem to matter anyways. Still, he watched the door wearily, until he figured it was time to go home. But even that was pointless, being that the only other person that exited the bar was a man in a dark suit and hat. After a good night's sleep, Zenigata decided that seeing the man last night was probably just a drunken illusion, brought upon by the stress of this case and alcohol.

About a week later, from the second time of 'seeing' the suspect, a third, and vital sighting happened. It was near the large gates in Asakusa that Zenigata heard a group of hushed voices. Once again, it was after the sun had drifted down on the cityscape of Tokyo. He was coming from a crime scene, apparently related to the case. Again, no evidence was found, in this already creepy case. Some people in the media were beginning to question the reality of this case; Was it a murderous and criminal mastermind? Or maybe something paranormal, that they couldn't explain. Seriously, was that what they were coming to? Blaming serious missing persons cases on ghouls and goblins? Ones Zenigata would prefer to stay in fairytales, thank you very much.

Hiding just around the corner, he heard the man in the red jacket address his group. It was if they spoke in code, with the way they said things, saying strange words the detective had never heard before. The very least he was able to decipher from the cryptic conversation was that they were leaving Tokyo, and going to France. Paris, he heard after a few more intangible muttering. He caught a few glimpses of the group, and in all, they seemed to fit the descriptions he had been given. Clutching his gun, he tried to get himself in a sort of zen state. He was going to try and arrest them, although he knew he should wait for back up. Breathing a few long breathes, he rounded the corner he had hidden behind. They were gone, without so much as a sound. Glancing around, Zenigata cursed. Once again, them seemed to disappear seamlessly into the night.

He reported what he had heard to his chief the very next morning, whom seemed sceptical. Zenigata could have laughed, if he didn't know the morale ramifications, when the same mysterious disappearances began to start anew in Paris, and cease in Tokyo. Being part of Interpol, he followed the case. It seemed logical, right? He had been the one to spot the man, not once, but a total of three times. That is, after admitting that the second time was in fact legitimate. Packing up, and taking the long ride to the airport seemed surreal to the man, who hadn't traveled out of Japan very often.

Hours later and he was landing in France, feeling a lot less prepared then he should have. This case was moving to fast. They should have sent someone with more experience. Why did he keep seeing the man, when there had been millions of people in Tokyo. These thing swarmed his head in a way he couldn't explain, jamming his brain with cotton balls, and making his thoughts fuzzy. He was greeted by officers of Paris' finest, and escorted to the Interpol office.

He was debriefed with the local chief, and they wished each other a swift end to this case.

--

That had been a week ago, before investigations had went so far down hill, that the inspector worried they wouldn't come back up again. Nearly a month had passed since he had started this case, and they still had yet to capture this group. Hell, not even a photo, video, DNA, fingerprint, ANYTHING! It all raged in the Japanese man's mind, swelling to a irritating headache. He managed to see, what he thought anyways, was the man he was looking for, going down to use the metro. Again, it was at night, being driven from the offices to his hotel.

With a terrible 'lost in communication' like feel, Zenigata has been barely making it to bed, it the wee hours of the morning. In truth, he was starting to feel more nocturnal than anything. The noise of Paris at night was similar to Tokyo, but at the same time, all too different.

--

Feeling like an insomniac, Zenigata pulled himself out of bed, grimacing as his bones creaked and protested. He couldn't get any sleep, and the chief had insisted he took a day off after working seven straight. He had tried protesting, claiming he didn't need a day off. It didn't work, instead the Frenchman had given him a two day leave, granted that there weren't any breakthroughs with the case. For that reason he slid the pager in his coat pocket, as he swung on the garment. It didn't seem like a particularly cold night, despite it the calendar claiming it was near the end November. So he decided to leave the suit jacket at the hotel, and just take the trench.

Much to his digression, it was windy in the city of Love. This led to losing of one of his most prized possessions. Hit hat. The article of clothing was blown off my a particularly strong gust, and landed in the water of a river he didn't know the name of. Cursing softly, the man decided this was just another reason to find a bar. Darn it! He had really liked that hat too! His only condolence is that he knew where to get a new one, the down side was that wouldn't be till he got back to Tokyo, and with the way this case was going… Well, who knows how long that'll be. Watching the hat drift, and then finally sink into the river, the man carried on, determined to find a alcoholic beverage. Finally he found a bar, a small and slightly un-kempt place, though not entirely repulsive. At least it was open this late of night, or early morning.

Sliding up to the bar, he managed to order a beer, seemingly through sheer force of will, seeing as he didn't speak the language. Tuning out the pleasant sounding French conversations, the Detective settled for staring at the condensation on his glass. As enthralling as it was, he soon lost interest in the small beads of water, and finished his beer. This was another thing that was so different from his own country, the nightlife, the bar. He stared at his empty glass, even the beer tasted weird.

Raising his head from his musing, the man looked about the bar. He was near a wall, on the right side of the bar, so he didn't even bother to look in that direction. Instead he focused left, studying the racks of alcohol, and the mingling crowd. There were people getting cozy in the booths, people who were laughing and having a good time. Friends pouring each other glorious amounts of French wine. The man sighed, they were probably all ignorant of the disappearances, not knowing of who would be gone next. Kouchi ignored the arm in a dark blue dress shirt sneak past him to grab a pen that was laying on the bar. Why the pen was on the counter, or why the blue arm had wanted it was none of the detective's concern, and he kept his eyes trained on the not thinning crowd. Looking up at the TV above the bar, he witness a commercial. It was concerning to say the least, and involved, what looked to be, people falling in love after rubbing some… Ahem, man or women's head.

Shaking his head, he ran a hand over his short hair. He heard a laugh from beside him, and looked over at the man beside the wall. Looking over at the other, who was, low and behold, was the owner of the arm in the navy shirt, Zenigata raised a brow. The man laughed again, and said something in French that the other obviously didn't understand. Seeing the Japanese man's confusion, he cleared his throat.

"I said, 'Don't be expecting me to fall head over heels for you just like that'." He said, with what seemed to be a good natured smile, although, there seemed to be a strange emotion swirling in his eyes. Zenigata blanched, going white, a startled expression on his face. The other bar patron gave him a quizzical looked, before laughing again.

"The commercial, I saw you look up at it." He said, clarifying the previous statement. It seemed like no such luck, as the detective still looked as bewildered as ever. His face went from amused to slightly concerned. "You do speak Japanese don't you?"

Finally Zenigata seemed to recover, and blushed from the embarrassment. He muttered a quick confirmation of the other's question and stared back down at his drink. At least the blush put colour back into his face. To avoid any further embarrassment, Zenigata stood, planning to leave the bar. He put the money on the counter, but as he moved to walk away, and hand caught on his wrist. He looked back, so see the other man holding his wrist with one hand, and his pager in the other.

"You dropped this." He said, in lightly accented Japanese, that sent a surge of familiarity through Zenigata. Laughing nervously, he tugged his wrist out of the other's grasp, and took his pager back. At this moment in time, the familiarity clicked. He had heard that voice before! He turned back to the other man, spotting a red jacket over the back of his bar stool, and a yellow tie around his neck. Zenigata looked down nervously.

White pants.

He struggled to keep his heart rate down, this was the man, it had to be. At this moment he wished he had a cellphone, so he could at least call the police, and not be here without handcuffs. Without a gun. And without a hat. Murmuring a quick thanks, he made his way to leave again, but this time an arm thrown around his shoulder's impeded him.

"Where are you going, buddy? I don't think you're gunna find anyone else out there who speaks Japanese." The man reasoned, surprisingly strong for his lanky build. A flash of fear passed through Zenigata's eyes, before he could steel himself.

"I… I have to phone my daughter, but I left my phone at my hotel." He lied quickly, trying to get out from the other's arm. To his dismay, he found he couldn't, as if the other had tightened his grip. The other just seemed to chipper up, grabbing his own jacket with one hand, and steering him towards the door with more force that Zenigata thought he could have.

"You can use mind," he offered, as they reached the door. "I insist." It sounded more like an order then it did an offer, and Zenigata's palms began to sweat. This wasn't good, this was bad, very bad, extremely bad. Never would he have thought he was going to be one who would have gotten abducted, though, he didn't plan on remaining in this man's custody. Once they had exited from the bar, Zenigata twisted out from under the other's arm. He thought he caught a look of disapproval, but it seemed to have vanished as soon as it came.

"You okay there, pops? Have too much to drink maybe?" He asked, his voice laced with concern, as he tried to rest his hand on the other's arm. Zenigata recoiled from the touch, at this point not caring if he hurt the other's feelings. He very much wished right now that the French police had given him a cellphone, instead of pager, but now was not the time for that, he needed to get away as soon as possible.

"That's alright," he managed, his voice gruff with poorly contained fear. "I'll just be going now." He set off at a brisk walk, without contemplating the fact that he had turned his back on the suspect. What he needed right now was a payphone, that and as far away from the other as possible. A ripple of fear once again rang through his body, as he looked back, only to find the street empty of men with either white pants or red jackets. He hadn't heard the door to the bar re-open, and he didn't hear any foot steps other than his own. Turning down an alley, thinking it was the one he had went through when he had arrived at the area, Zenigata was surprised to find a dead end impeding his way.

Swallowing the fear that seemed to clog his throat, he wondered why he hadn't noticed this when he walked in to the alley. The damn cotton balls in his mind, mixed with the small amount of alcohol seemed to cloud his judgement. Turning, his heart gave a small start spotting the shadow figure at the mouth of the alley. Instinctively he back peddled a bit, only to find a wall bump against his back. Now that was a great idea, he had backed himself into a cage. He tried to calm his heart, maybe it wasn't the suspect that was blocking way out.

But it was, it was indeed. With quick, and quiet measured steps, the same man from the bar, the man with the red jacket, approached the other. As the other got closer, Zenigata could see the dark amusement on the other's face. In all his years as a cop, Zenigata began to think that this was the closest he had ever come to death. He couldn't help but jump slightly when the other spoke.

"From your fear, I have a sinking suspicion that you know who I am." He was all smooth tones and amusement, wasn't he? Zenigata mused bitterly. Sucking in a breathe, the detective nodded, thinking he had a definite answer.

"You are the suspect in the missing persons cases both here and in Japan." He managed, trying to sound brave through the lump in his throat. To his surprise, the other looked bewildered, before chuckling. The chuckling seemed to evolve into a full out laugh.

"Yes," he managed between laughs. "I guess that would count too." He managed to recompose himself, all traces of amusement left his body, save for the light that danced in his eyes. He stood maybe three feet away from the other now, and he raised his hand flippantly. "But really, from your reaction in the bar, I thought you had me all figured out." Zenigata almost thought he looked a little disappointed, almost being the key word. "You didn't."

He advanced one step, and remained there, an action the detective did not take lightly. Despite the seemingly harmless action, the red jacketed man continued to speak, as if nothing was wrong with this situation. "Even in Tokyo, I know you saw me, many times. Ha, I guess you're the only one competent enough to track my position,"

Zenigata didn't have the heart, or the bravery to tell the other that it had happened by chance.

"But then again, you always seemed so flustered when I went and disappeared on you--" He chuckled again, and Zenigata wondered if he really did hear that laugh in Ryougoku. Another calculated step forward, and the detective wondered if screaming would be a good last resort. No, a good last resort would be a gun, screaming is a mediocre last resort.

"-- even kicking that bike rack." Zenigata's suspicions were confirmed there, and his neck began to sweat like his palms. This was not good, what was this man!? His eyes kept flicking to the man's hands, worried that he might pull a knife or a gun.

"So you really haven't figured out? Oh, well, I suppose grown men don't really believe in legends these days, do they?" The man sighed, as if the thought saddened him. Zenigata's face was pale again, mind racing, was this man just messing of him? Yeah, that was probably it. Zenigata began to scowl at this, this man was just messing with him, trying to get him scared so he wouldn't fight back. Yes! That was it!

Zenigata growled, squared his shoulders, and tried to look as intimidating as possible. The other man looked surprised for a moment before laughing again, raising an eyebrow at the man. Zenigata pulled back a arm, intending to punch the man, and then make a break for it down the alley, but his fist was caught and pulled forward. The man's other arm pushed on Zenigata's chest, slamming him back into the wall, and leaving him out of breathe. Zenigata's eyes screwed shut in pain, as it felt like his arm was going to be ripped out it's socket, and like his chest was about to collapse. At least it managed to distract him from the pain in his wrist.

"Now that was just dumb, pops." The other mocked him, and Zenigata tried not to think of how he could smell the other's breathe. It smelled like iron, oh damnit! Not thinking about it didn't work. The detective struggled feebly, until the grip on his wrist pulled back further, sending a wave of pain through his body. How in the world was this man so strong!? He didn't look it, not at all. He looked lanky, and quick, not brutally forceful. Thoughts stormed Zenigata's skull, and ending with the calm and unavoidable; So you're going to die. He opened his eyes, if he was going to die, then he at least wanted to see his last moments. The other's face was close to his, but not overly so, much to the Japanese man's relief.

"Now tell me something, cause I really wanna know," he didn't even sound strained, while holding the other in place. "Do you believe in Vampires?"

"Why would you be asking a stupid question like that!?" Zenigata snapped, despite the situation. Of course he didn't believe in Vampires, it simply didn't exist. He didn't care if this man was a murderous or a lunatic at this moment, that was just a stupid question! The other man seemed taken aback, before looking angry and embarrassed.

"What do you mean a stupid question!? It's perfectly legitimate given the circumstances!" He argued back, seeming to lose his cool. Zenigata was just grateful his arm didn't get ripped off, and knew he should stop, but…"No it isn't! You should have asked something like, 'Do you believe in the afterlife?'" He countered, glaring at the other stubbornly. The other man glared right back, if it wasn't so terrifying, it would be humorous.

"Yeah, well, at least I didn't ask, "Do you believe in love at first sight, or do I have to walk by for a fifth bloody time!?'" The man's voice was full of inflection, compared to the smooth and level tone he had before.

"Why would you even say that? That's just weir--" Zenigata was cut-off by a gasp, as he felt the collar of his shirt ripped, the buttons flying off and landing somewhere in the alley. Cold lips pressed against his neck, just above the pulse point. Zenigata flushed, and tried to punch the man with his free arm. But instead he found his wrists held in one hand of his captor, and the second hand holding his shoulder to the wall. When the heck had the other moved?!

"W-what do you think you are doing!? I don't swing that way buddy!" He yelled, sounding outraged, and trying to pull away from the mouth at his neck. Ew, ew, ew, ew, make it stop, ew. He thought, trying to kick the other man, without much luck. The other laughed against his neck, it was an unpleasant feeling to say the least.

"I told you. Asking you if you believed in Vampires was not a stupid question." Before Zenigata could even ask why, a sharp pain lanced through his body, situating from his neck. Body going ridged, he tried to struggle again, but he already was having trouble sucking in breathes. The pain quickly faded, and left a not quite unpleasant burn in his body. He groaned, feeling his body going limp, but instead of getting to surrender to sleep, another wave of pain thrashed his body. Zenigata blinked, opening his eyes, and trying to figure out when he had closed them. He was on the ground, his back against the wall, with the red jacketed man crouching in front of him, looking confused. Despite how tired he felt, he still had the urge to kick the other man in the face. He lifted his hand, that was finally free, and touched his neck. It came away wet with blood. He turned his weary eyes on the man in front of him, he wanted to scream at him, shoot him, and arrest him all at the same time, but all he managed was a murmur.

"Are you going to let me die?" The other just sighed and moved his head.

--

He had his prey pinned to the wall. His prey's blood was sweet, something he hadn't been expecting. He knew he would have drained all the man's blood if he hadn't heard Jigen's warning, the city was to be waking soon, and with that, the sun would rise. He had been startled by the other calling out to him, and let the man sink to the ground. Still breathing, still alive, heck, still conscious, though Lupin wondered how long that would last. He knelt in front of the other, as Jigen entered the alley as well. Lupin could tell he was curious, his leader rarely ever left meals alive.

His sharp hearing picked up the other's question, as he wiped some excess blood from his mouth. Raising and eye brow, he looked back at Jigen, then back to the man in front of him. This was the first time he had ever been asked that, and while he was inclined to say no, and just finish the job, he couldn't. This man so far was the only human that seemed to have a prospect of actually interesting him. The banter had amused him, and he seemed resourceful enough.

Slipping his hand in the other's coat, without even a flinch for the drained looking man, he pulled out a wallet, searching for some ID. Zenigata Koichi, an Interpol officer from Japan, Date of birth, yadda yadda yadda. He pocketed the wallet, before moving to drape one of the detective's arm's over his shoulder, and slip his arm around his waist. He hoisted the other easily to a mock standing position, as if he weighted five pounds.

"What are you doing, boss?" Jigen asked, and Lupin could imagine the other lifting a brow under that hat of his. Then he snickered, a good natured sound, despite the situation. "A snack for the road?" Lupin smiled back at him, beginning to walk out of the narrow alley, dragging the now unconscious cop with him. Though he was thoroughly tempted to lick the blood still on the human's neck, he refrained. That could at least wait until they were back at the base, though… Taking more blood could kill the man. Lupin looked at him out of the corner of his eye. Head down, limp body, dragging feet, nothing spectacular. Then again, he had quite enjoyed the taste of the other's blood, probably more then any other he had tried before.

Maybe it would be beneficial to keep him alive? Not only for the meaningless banter, but also for and unlimited supply of the other's blood. Oh yes, that sounded like a good idea. "A snack for the road? Yes, well, something like that." He smiled, yes, this idea was going to work, it was win-win-win for him! As for Koichi Zenigata? Well, he got to have his blood sucked by and attractive vampire, wasn't that enough? Judging by the way the other acted in the alley, completely unaffected by his charm, he guessed not.

Jigen walked beside him, a cigarette in his mouth. It seemed like he wasn't going to be asking anymore questions, besides, they could leave that to the other two. Doing a quick visual sweep of the street, he found it empty, something lucky for a Paris backstreet, despite the time. Quickening his pace, it soon turned into a run much faster then it would seem possible for a human, let alone someone carrying another person. Jigen matched Lupin's pace easily, and soon the pair disappeared into the waning night.

-

Zenigata woke up to being very much alive, something quite surprising, he thought. His shoulder hurt, his wrist hurt, his neck hurt like a bitch, and his chest still felt constricted. He opened his eyes. The room he was in was dim, illuminated softly by nightlight in the corner. The man scowled, what was he, six?! Groaning, he sat up, only to lay back down when the room felt like it was spinning forcefully. Resisting the urge to throw up, Zenigata closed his eyes, waiting for it to pass. A few minutes later and it did, and he was able to sit up, slowly that is, and take in his surroundings.

Though it was still hard to get past the initial shock of being alive, he chose not to ponder last night's events. No, that simply didn't happen, he was in his hotel room, alive and safe. Although… This wasn't his hotel room. It was a musty room, with the windows blotted and boarded to keep any light out. In Zenigata's opinion, it smelled like mothballs and old clothes. The bed he was on was lumpy, and the pillows were flat. So this is how you treated someone after you nearly kill them? He thought sourly, thought he knew he should be happy to be alive. Not dead, or chained in a basement or torture chamber. Shivering at the thought, he looked around for his coat. It was draped over the back of a broken chair.

Slipping out of bed, and finding his shoes in the process, Zenigata prepared to leave. He wondered if the door was locked or not. It probably was, but he had to try anyways, for his pride's sake at least. Walking was troublesome, he was dizzy and disorientated, and the dimness didn't help much. With managing to bump into only three things, the cop reached his coat, and pulled it on quickly, reaching a hand to the door.

He didn't even have to put his hand on the door knob, for it swung forward, knocking him back. He tried to regain his balance, but instead landed with a crash on the floor. After cursing, and groaning in pain, he looked up at the open door. The same man was standing there, looking amused. Holding the doorknob in one hand, and bag in the other. Zenigata backed up until he hit the foot of the bed, heart racing. Crap, last night was real, wasn't it? He didn't want to know that answer to that .

"Aha… So you are alive," Lupin mused, stepping into the room, and closing the door behind him. He crouched in-between the detective's knees, pressing the bag into his hands. It was funny to see how the other's breathe hitched in fear, and how he dropped the bag to cover his neck. "Y'know, Jigen had his doubts, but I thought you seemed stubborn enough to live." He continued, picking up the bag again, and this time putting it on the detective's stomach. "It's food, if you want any, I wasn't sure what kind you want, so I just grabbed this before the son rose."

Lupin hadn't expected the other to react so violently to receiving food. He felt the other's arms trying to push him away, with strength that was to be expected of a cop his age. He let himself be moved away, and stood up to move a few feet back. Well, this was new, usually people met his kindness with gratitude, not lashing out violently. Though, he hadn't nearly killed the people he showed kindness, instead it was often before. Alas, the man in front of him, struggling to get to his feet-- seems like he was still a bit low of blood-- only showed hostility and fear to him, like a caged animal. Cute-- In that weird sort of way. Still, Lupin hadn't been expecting to have; 'GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME' screamed at him so soon, the day had only just started.

The vampire rocked on his heels, waiting of the other to recover from his outburst. The detective was holding on to part of the bed for support, and looked like his was going to bolt any second now. Now that wouldn't be a good idea, Lupin would hate to have to lock him in the room. Although, thinking that the other would co-operate was pretty dumb anyways. He watched the other skirt away carefully, not going towards the door, but instead distancing himself from Lupin. He wondered what the other was doing, but when he heard the slam of a door, he didn't have to wonder anymore. Right, the bathroom. Walking over, he heard the lock click, and shook his head. Apparently this Zenigata person thought a locked door could stop him. Somebody really needed to give him a wake-up call and tell him that not even a locked vault could stop Lupin.

Knocking on the door, he couldn't help but notice a sweet smell come from the bathroom. Which is weird, right? Y'know, since it's a bathroom? Alas, it seems the detective managed to cut himself on something, or managed to re-open his bite wound. Either way, the sweet and tangy smell permeated into the hotel room, and Lupin worried that it might disturb the others. Goemon hadn't fed last night either, and that just fuelled his paranoia. Grasping the doorknob in his hand, he twisted. The lock broke, but the door wouldn't open. It seems the human was using his back to prevent the door opening.

"Oi, Pops, get outta there. I'd hate to break the door too." He called out, giving the other a chance to have a change of heart before he would tear off the door. There was no answer, but he heard scrambling away from the door. He sighed, gripping the knob, and pulling back. The door exploded out of it's frame, and he tossed it aside… Only to have a pipe smashed on his head. While it didn't really hurt, and it didn't physically harm him, it stunned him enough for the man to slip past. But the detective barely made it five steps before a hand latched onto his coat, pulling him back. Lupin shook his head, that was actually pretty clever, but he still couldn't believe he had fallen for it. He should have been expecting some retaliation, but a pipe to the face? He wrapped an arm around the chest of the detective, holding him still while he wrenched the pipe from his grasp. The other's back heaved up and down again Lupin's chest, and the vampire could feel the man's quick heart beat under his hand.

As Lupin reached for Zenigata's injured hand, the human began struggling violently, kicking, punching, and even trying to bite his way out of the vampire's hold. This was kinda annoying-- Oh, a kick to the groin -- Okay, this was very annoying. Tightening his hold in the other's chest, and effectively cutting off the shouts, he grabbed the injured hand. There was a shallow cut below the thumb, on the back of his hand. He brought it to his mouth, much to the protests of the other man, and licked away the blood. Remembering that humans had to breathe, Lupin loosened his hold. The man sucked in desperate breathes, slumping slightly.

"Are you going to calm the hell down now? Or do I have to hold you till you calm down?" Lupin asked, adding in a bit of good old fashioned menace to his tone. The other man nodded desperately, and Lupin couldn't help but he wanted to get away from him. Such a silly thought. Why wouldn't you want to be held by someone like Lupin? Either way, he let the other go. Watching, but not reacting as the other stumbled away, balance still not fully returned. The cop seemed to put as much space as possible between him and Lupin, but as always made the mistake of being backed into a wall.

Frowning, the vampire realised his still smelt and tasted the other's blood. He advanced a step without thinking, wanting more. He caught himself when he looked at the other's fearful expression. Damnit, maybe keeping the other here would be harder then he had first thought.

"Eat your food." Lupin snapped, leaving the room before he could act on his impulses, and locking the door behind him. He'd talk more with the man after he had a while to calm down. Yes, that was a good plan.

Zenigata slumped to the ground once the other had left. Seriously, this was not good for his heart. Okay, what in the world had just… Happened!? 'Crap, crap, crap! Stupid Zenigata!' he scolded himself. He had to remember that he very much wanted to keep his limps, and that coming out of this situation un-molested would be good too. Shuddering at the thought, he eyed the plastic bag, which he chose to blame for the whole situation. He glared at it for awhile, from where he was sitting on the floor, before moving to the bed where it was out of eye sight. He sat on the bed for a long time, trying to calm himself, and trying not to flip out every time he thought of coming into contact with the other man.

His stomach growled, by the refused to go check the plastic bag for food. It was it's fault anyways. Instead, he got off the bed, and began investigating the room like a good detective would. He looked at the bathroom again, this time actually looking at it, and not just sitting in front of the place a door once was. It wasn't in too bad of shape, and looked fairly clean. But the sink was missing it's drain pipe, and that explained Zenigata's impromptu weapon. He went and grabbed the pipe, but it was mangled and unusable. He remembered the way his arm has vibrated after smashing the pipe on the red jacketed man's head. Fat lot that did.

At least the shower worked, that was an upside. He used it to clean off his hand, grimacing when he remembered what the other had done exactly with his hand. He wanted to rub his hand, and his neck, he add with an afterthought, until they were red. He decided against it when he realized he'd probably start bleeding. That wouldn't be good, given the other's reaction to blood thus far. Zenigata sighed, could this man really be a vampire? Or way this all some sick joke? Maybe he had been hit by a car and was now in a coma? He didn't have the heart to think of anything else. Casually stepping around the former bathroom door, the detective lightly tried the main door. Locked. Of course. It was still hard to see in the dim light, but his eyes had adjusted enough so he could at least see outlines. Like the outline of a light switch, thankfully close to the door. The man shielded his eyes slightly, as the room became illuminated but a single naked bulb.

Ah, now it was much easier to understand his surroundings. A French flair seemed to be on everything save for the detective himself. The walls were orange. The carpet was silver, and who ever designed this must've been colour blind. Zenigata snorted, this coming from a straight cop. His stomach rumbled again, and he quickly spotted the plastic bag. The man had told him to eat, so maybe just a bit… No! It was probably poisoned by the sick bastard anyways! Curiosity got the better of the cop anyways, and he found himself staring at the items he had poured from the bag. Two water bottles, a sandwich, a candy bar of some sort, and some other little snacks. He found it hard to picture the man going into a convenience store to purchase it, and wondered why he thought of it in the first place.

From the time he woke up, till now, it felt like it had dropped severely in temperature. Heck, maybe he was dying? He tried to avoid that thought at his toyed with the cuff of his coat. Suddenly realizing something, he put a hand to his throat. He touched skin instead of cloth, and looked down to see two buttons missing, and his shirt hanging slightly open because of it. Well if that wasn't an invitation for vampires… Zenigata didn't continue the thought, it made him feel kind of sick. Setting the possibly questionable food stuffs on what seemed to be a bedside table, Zenigata sank back into the musty blankets. He didn't plan to go to sleep, but instead just wanted to keep warm. Kicking off his shoes, he worked on trying to warm up, and in the end, found himself staring blankly at the ceiling. It was stucco, of course, and he wouldn't expect anything else from the French.

Zenigata blinked, something coming back to him. He dug his hand into his coat pocket, where his pager was supposed to be. It wasn't there. Of course, but neither was his wallet, or any of the other stuff he had been carrying with him. He growled, so that bastard assaulted him, kidnapped him, and robbed him!? It was impossible to measure how much Zenigata wanted to strangle that man right now. Turning to his side, and no, he was not moping, he stared at the boarded and blacked out windows. It was if no trace of light could get through, it reminded the man of being underground, in a crypt or something like that. For once he didn't shudder at the creepy thought. He was a police officer for god's sake! He had to start acting like one. He wasn't sure, but he didn't think falling asleep in a bed provided by your captor was very policeman-like, but in the end, he didn't know he did it.