You’re sitting across from Spencer in your dimly lit living room, his wide eyes scanning you like a rare manuscript he’s been dying to get his hands on. The words had barely left your mouth before he started furiously flipping through the pages of his mental encyclopedia.

“A vampire,” he whispers, as if saying it louder might break the spell. “You mean, like, actual vampirism? Blood consumption, nocturnal habits, the whole… mythos?”

You nod, resisting the urge to smirk. The reaction was about what you’d expected - equal parts disbelief and academic fervor. “Not everything you’ve read in folklore is accurate, but yes. Essentially.”

Spencer’s fingers twitch like he’s desperate for a pen. “This is—this is incredible. Do you know how many cultures independently developed legends of vampiric entities? There’s the aswang in the Philippines, the Slavic vrykolakas, and even - wait, do you cast reflections? Or are there adaptive optics at play in the retina?” His head tilts, his eyes gleaming with curiosity.

“Reflections are fine,” you say dryly. “Mirrors don’t bite. I do.”