Unlike Conrad, Worth had been far more keen to try out his new vampiric powers. It had taken him weeks before he was able to figure out that whole flying thing, but he had taken to the blood drinking with far more relish. The super speed wasn't bad, either, though, it seemed Conrad was still better at that than he was. Apparently a vampire's newfound gifts were related to preexisting abilities in the living body. As a result, Worth could move faster than people, but had difficulty keeping up with any of Conrad's full sprints. His hearing was sharper than ever, though, which was more of a curse than a blessing in many ways - especially once allergy season hit and Hanna's snores shook the entire camper.

But, in keeping with Worth's normal course of behaviors, one of the earliest curiosities for the newly undead man had been Bloodthorn. He'd heard about it. He'd seen a few vampires under the influence. But being a human, it had done little more for him than your average bowl of ground up pouporri. Now that he was decidedly lacking in a heartbeat, he had taken to asking after it each and every time they came to a settlement that had even the slightest possibility of a lead. Conrad had given up on rolling his eyes over it, and Hanna had begun waiting to open his mouth to speak. Worth would always beat Hanna to the punch these days, then sulk off into a corner leaving the rest to do the more important things like saving the world.

So when the day came that Worth actually managed to get his hands on a tin containing several dried herbs, he was nearly giddy with glee. The rest of the group were in varying stages of relief. Hanna had insisted on Worth doing it outside of the RV and in a "safe, controlled environment" which wound up being a hotel room only a few hours later. Hanna had handed the doctor a mortar and pestle and pointed to the bathroom. Conrad had scowled and crossed his arms, but agreed to be the chaperone, mostly because he was the only one in the group strong and fast enough to keep up with Worth if the need arose. Apparently Bloodthorn really was catnip to vampires - some of them spaced out, others got snuggly, and some took to freaking out and sinking their nails into anything nearby.

In the bathroom, Worth looked into the mirror and grinned at the reflection of the fabric of his shirt wrinkling around an invisible form. Information on usage was vague at best, but he figured he knew enough to get the party started. Ingestion was not necessary, but inhalation or topical application was. Technically a vampire could walk right by a bunch that had just been milled with absolutely no effect. But what many people forgot was that even though vampires didn't breathe, they still smelled the world. To smell, they needed to inhale. And once a vampire caught a whiff of Bloodthorn, well, he was already wanting to roll around in it.

Maybe just rub it on his hands a little? He tried it, felt tingling, somewhere between the chill of mint and the heat of cinnamon. He wondered how it would be in a cigarette and immediately made a mental note to try that out in the future. As it was he was barely resisting the urge to rub it across more of his skin. Or really, rub anything. Those towels behind his invisible head looked nice. Maybe he would touch those and oh, yes, yes this was a good idea, oh these felt wonderful. These might be the best towels ever created.

A double bang on the door startled him and he stared at it wide eyed, towel draped across the top of his head.

"Are you about done in there? If you are, could you please dispose of the remains? Some of us like having fully functioning brains and sobriety."

Wide eyed, he stared at the door and said nothing.

"Worth. I'm serious. Are you done? Do I have to come in there?"

Maybe he shouldn't let Conrad find him. Maybe this was a game. He unlocked the door, then dove into the shower, shutting the curtain. Oh this might be fun. "Come in!"

"Oh for God's sake, just come out here. I'm not in the mood to walk in there and see you fingerpainting with your dick or whatever the hell it is that's taking so much time."

Silence again greeted Conrad's words.

"I'm going to have to go in there, aren't I? Fine. I'll come in. But you better not be up to something." The door opened and Conrad peered inside, pinching his nose shut. "Where are you?" A few tentative steps, a suspicious eyeing of what remained of the herbs, and then an exasperated eye roll at the shower curtain. "Really, Worth? If you're naked back there..." He shoved the curtain aside, finding only a pile of clothes.

A light flutter of leather above his head alerted Conrad to what he should be expecting. "Fantastic. You've gone bat. Let me guess, you've now decided to go into hiding somewhere."

It was true. Bat form Worth had fluttered in a drunken corkscrew out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. He was currently hiding among photo frames on top of an armoire.

Conrad took a deep, bracing breath, and sighed. "You're an idiot."

Vision was different when on Bloodthorn, the world taking on a slightly hazed quality at the edges, everything tinted in warm shades. But he wasn't paying much attention to that. There were more important things going on at the moment. Worthbat peered out from behind the photo frames, over sized ears pricked forward, watching the bathroom door as it shut behind Conrad. He stood, scowling at the room, hands fisted on his hips. "So. Idiot. You're out here somewhere, shaped like a bat, and high as a fucking kite. Where are you hiding? If I were a complete fucking idiot," the hands moved from hips to fold across his chest, "where would I hide? Hmm? Not going to give me any clues, then?"

Tiny clawed paws slapped over Worthbat's mouth, holding back a giggle bubbling up like Champagne bubbles.

"I don't know why I put up with you," the dark haired vampire grumbled, beginning to search behind and beneath the pillows on the bed. "You're nothing but a gigantic fucking pain. You're rude," the pillows were tossed back into place in favor of looking through the bedside drawers, "you're an idiot, which I think I've already established," now he moved to the armoire, opening the doors. "I would get into how awful you smell, but you're not quite as bad as you used to be." Doors shut and the artist stepped back. "Hanna always smelled the worst, but at least he tried to work on it. I think some days you reveled in your filth."

He paused, head turning over his shoulder. "Oh. I see where you are."

Panic gripped Worthbat's unmoving heart, only to have the icewater of relief wash over it a moment later as Conrad kneeled beside the bed and lifted up the skirt. Now, he thought with clarity, now was the moment to strike. With a quick wiggle of his butt, Worthbat gave a mighty SKREEEEEEEEE! and dove straight down, landing on the top of Conrad's head, merrily swimming his paws through the dark locks.

"OH FUCK ME JESUS!" Conrad was up in an instant, grabbing Worthbat from the back of his head and throwing him onto the bed. "Don't do that! Ever! God that was - do you realize that's how bats got such an awful reputation? Centuries of people saying bats will get tangled in your hair. Do you even care that you're perpetuating a stereotype?"

Given the way Worthbat was chittering away merrily, rolling about on the bed, obviously, no. No, he did not. The bed was nice, too. Nicer than the towels even.

Shoulders slumped and Conrad picked up the tiny, fluffy thing by the scruff, holding it close to his face to give Worthbat a stern stare. "Look. You are out of your mind and you are a pest. I am not risking you getting out and doing God knows what to God knows whom. You will stay with me for the rest of the night and you will just ride out your trip quietly. Do you understand?"

Paws gripped the tip of Conrad's nose as Worthbat stared back, eyes wide and red. Conrad almost felt a softening until something very cold and very wet licked across his nose.

"That," he said, scowling, "was unnecessary and disgusting. Keep your tongue to yourself."

Still holding the bat, Conrad sat and then lied upon the bed, grabbing the book he had been reading from the nightstand. "I'm going to read and you're going to lie here and be good and not annoying. I know these are foreign concepts to you, much like dental floss, but that is how it will be." With some difficulty, Conrad opened the book one handed and began to read. Gently and slowly he placed Worthbat on his chest, draping a hand over top of the furry bundle. It wasn't long before Worth wriggled around.

Conrad's hand gave a tap to the crown of Worthbat's head. "Stop."

Worth's paws wrapped around Conrad's thumb and he began to lick and nuzzle. Oh it felt nice. Better if it was warm, but if he tilted his head one way he could almost get Conrad to scratch this one spot behind his ear.

Conrad watched for a moment, then rolled his eyes. "Is that what you're after? Fine. God you're impossible."

And that was how Conrad found himself reading a book while scratching the tummy of a cooing Worthbat. Apparently every time he thought his life had reached the pinnacle of absurd, well, he should really just learn to stop thinking that. Worthbat, however, didn't care. He was getting tummy scratches and everything was awesome.