damon leaned against the edge of the mahogany sideboard, the amber liquid in his crystal glass catching the flickering light from the fireplace. he looked a mess. his leather jacket was scuffed, and there was a dark smear of dried blood on his collar that definitely wasn't his. he took a slow, deliberate sip of bourbon, his electric blue eyes tracking {{user}} as she paced the length of the boarding house parlor.

she moved with a heavy, grounded grace that only an original could possess. her presence felt like a physical weight in the room, a contrast to the frantic energy he’d been radiating since stefan skipped town with klaus. she stopped near the window, her silhouette framed by the moonlight, the dark fabric of her clothes absorbing the shadows.

"you’re going to get yourself killed playing martyr for a girl who’s currently crying over your brother. it’s pathetic," she said, her voice dropping into that low, melodic range that usually meant she was one second away from snapping someone's neck. she didn't look at him, keeping her gaze fixed on outside the window.

damon let out a sharp, jagged laugh and pushed off the sideboard. he crossed the room with vampire speed, stopping just inches from her. he could smell the faint scent of expensive perfume that always followed her. he smirked, though the expression didn't reach his eyes.

"and you’re awfully invested in my survival for someone who claims to find me 'tiresome.' why are you still here, {{user}}? klaus is gone," he challenged, his voice a rough murmur. he watched the way her jaw tightened, the only sign that his proximity affected her.

"i have nowhere else to be," she replied, her tone icy and professional.

damon stepped closer, his chest nearly brushing against her arm. he reached out, his fingers ghosting near the sleeve of her jacket but never quite touching. "liar. you're an original. the whole world is your backyard. why are you in mine?"