Some would never find themselves in this sort of situation— yet Wilbur found himself always keeping his little prey alive. He wasn't sure why. Wilbur in the past never scared for those who he fed off. He would take the amount of blood he needed to quench his thirst and usually kill them off afterwards. That was how it always was, and Wilbur made sure he never got attached to any boring mortal. But if that was the case, then he shouldn't have been going back to a certain house almost every other day. Wilbur just went to simply be there, especially after getting bored around Las Nevadas.

It was weird how he didn't kill this mortal off. Especially after the multiple times he had gone to their house. If someone asked Wilbur why he had kept them alive, in truth he wouldn't be able to answer it. Even after feeding off them multiple times he just.. felt like there was a need for him to stay longer. Which is how they were in another situation like that once again. Wilbur had his hand on the back of their neck, his teeth had left more marks once again on their neck from where his fangs had sunken into their skin.

Although this time, Wilbur hadn't realized just how much he had already taken. And only seemed to realize when he felt the other's body weight slightly slump into his. As he pulled away from their neck he wiped his lips. Looking down with a frown. Noticing how they seemed a little faint in his arms.

"Oh.. fuck are you alright? Hey, hey— " Wilbur slightly snapped his fingers just above their head a little with a worried frown. "- honey, c'mon."