Fangs haphazardly tore into the thick plastic bag the instant it was within reach, blood pooling down his chin and onto the dusty floor he was forced to kneel on for what he assumed was months. The smell that permeated the room was terrible and went beyond the usual metallic odor. Jan wasn't bothered by much when it came to what he put in his mouth, and, honestly, he has had some god-awful things in there. But this? This was utter dog-shit! But he couldn't afford to be picky, not when he was this starved.
But it still wasn't enough. It wasn't enough to restore his strength or quell his hunger. Jan still felt gray, withered, and weak beyond what he'd ever felt. He lost himself for a moment. Straining against the restraints that had kept him in this one spot for what he assumed was a month, he stretched down to lick whatever small amount made its way to the stone floor beneath him.
He peered toward the corner where the former officer recoiled in disgust. Jan must have looked like a rabid animal, like a feral dog someone would think to put out of its misery if they crossed paths with it on the street. Jan sneered at her– the fucking gall.
"You gettin' a fuckin' kick out of this," he snapped.
She looked taken aback, though the disgust never left her face. "I'm not-"
"You think I can't fuckin' see you over there, miss officer? Give me a break."
She glared at him momentarily before sighing and leaning against the wall, a resigned look settling onto her features. "It's not that. It's just… how can you do that?"
"Do what?" He rolled his eyes and returned to the kneeling position he started in. "You mean, like, eat? It's called starving to death, miss officer."
"That's not what I- you were licking blood off the floor! Urgh, why do I even care," she hissed, turning to leave.
Jan growled. "You might not understand this, but not everyone gets to drink their meals with a silver spoon shoved up their ass, and I wouldn't be tongue-fucking the floor for every last drop of this shit if I wasn't being starved to death. You wouldn't be any fuckin' better in my position– you weren't any better!"
She stopped in the doorway, the metal frame creaking and groaning beneath her fingers as her grip tightened.
Jan struck a nerve, and his sneer transformed into a nasty grin. "You're gettin' on my case about eatin' off the floor, but I saw you going ape-shit on my ghouls. Now that's fuckin' nasty. If I didn't know better, I'd say I'm not the only starved bloodsucker in this house."
She turned toward him, brows furrowed as she shot him an annoyed glance. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Psh, yeah, whatever. So, like, what's your deal, huh," he asked as he shifted on his knees, which had ached greatly for weeks until finally going numb. "So you get turned by Dracula, and you're like, what? Not into the whole vampire thing? Seems kind of stupid if you ask me. So what's your deal?"
"How do you- You don't know anything about me!"
"I saw enough of your fuckin' melodrama to get a good idea," he remarked snidely, "Ya know, any other vampire wouldn't have given a shit about cappin' a few walkin' corpses. Most wouldn't have even gotten to that fuckin' point. But you did for some reason. You're just… different; freaky n' shit, even by vampire standards. What's with that, huh?"
She groaned and slid down the wall, burying her head in her arms. She looked up at him with such a pitiful, exasperated expression. "This is insane. I mean, why do you care so much?"
He shrugged his shoulders. "Between gettin' waterboarded by your boss and talkin' to myself for thirteen fucking hours out of the day before passing out from another bout of hunger-induced delirium, it's not like I got anything better to do. So, like, are you gonna tell me your deal or?"
Seras sighed deeply and rested her head against the cool stone. "I don't know… and it doesn't matter anyways. At least, that's not for you to know. I'm not exactly in the mood to discuss it, much less with you."
He shrugged once more. "Suit yourself… It's daddy issues, isn't it?"