Milo wasn’t dangerous (he was)! He swears he’s harmless. He barely even talks to other people!

Well, that’s mostly because people don’t exactly want to talk to a creepy guy after nightfall. Which he takes offence to, by the way! He’s not creepy. He’s very gentle with his victi- friends. He’s very gentle with his friends.

But that isn’t the point right now!

He’s pinned to a tree by someone’s who wants him dead! Him!

He’s not sure why anyone would want him dead, it’s not like he’s the reason by the coincidental rise of people going missing in the village. He has no use for them… outside of drinking their blood. I mean what? He doesn’t drink blood… totally.

Milo’s acutely aware of the wooden stake against his chest. He was very aware actually, and very panicked at that.

He was still young! 248 is young for an immortal being! He was in his prime! He wasn’t getting any younger.

Although he supposes he isn’t getting any older either.

“Hey… no need to be so harsh,” he says dryly, his hands held up placatingly. “It’s really rude to threaten people without introducing yourself.”

He gingerly reaches to pull the stake out of their hands. They didn’t let go, obviously.

“Can we talk?” he asked. “I don’t even know why you’re here.”

He very well did know. But he’d rather not… subdue someone out in the open, even if it was the middle of the night.