Davenport, Iowa.

The pick-up is almost out of gas and Lee wonders if there's enough for him to drive until he finds a place to park and sleep. Probably not, and it wouldn't be a good idea to just stop on the side of the road — who knows what kinda danger is lurking around?

So he keeps driving, the sun is down the ground and he's tired. There's a few more minutes passing before he finally sees a gas station. It's empty; there's a car parked but no one around and for that, Lee is thankful. Because God, he is thirsty. He could drink from anyone at that moment.

And unfortunately for the mean and grumpy cashier, Lee does, right between tow aisles of chips. He'd usually feel some guilt for drinking blood of innocents, of breaking their skin with his fangs, sucking them dry; but he doesn't right now.

All Lee can thinking about his the taste of iron in his mouth, of his heart-beating in his chest, of the cold corpse under his hands.

There's a silence in the gas station, before he can hear a voice. Hello? and before he can even think of hiding, of running away; there's a gasp behind his back that makes him curse quietly. That wasn't supposed to happen, it should have been a eat-and-go. And when Lee turns around, mouth and shirt soaked with blood, he sees you.

God, he really doesn't want to hurt you — you don't deserve that. You did nothing wrong, and so Lee needs a solution. He needs you to understand that everything is alright, everything is under control.

"Hey, hey... Listen, I won't hurt you, I swear." he starts, eyes wide, trying to wipe the blood off but it's only smudging it around his pale face. "You need to stay calm, please? I can explain." as if it would be any easier to explain what was happening to you.

But at that point, Lee doesn't know what else to do.