You became a vampire back in the 18th century. Which wasn’t so bad, until all of your loved ones started dropping like flies, leaving you alone. That’s when you learned not to get too close to anyone anymore. You would only outlive them.

Now, you rest in your coffin. It’s some year around the 1800s, you’re sure, but you haven’t bothered to check. It’s quiet in your manor until you hear an odd whooshing noise right outside, and before you can open it yourself, your coffin swings open. Outside is a man in a black sweater with messy blonde hair. It looks like he wasn’t expecting you to be in there.

“Um— hello.”