It's only when the sun goes down, and night meets the side of the world he's in, that you see him outside.

Fangs; night owl; pale skin; crimson red eyes; bloodthirst—you know the deal.

Colm hid himself in the dark alleys of Saint Denis, creeping around for something to feed his current hunger. Something, or someone. He stays careful, as being caught now would cause many problems for the man. Lurking in the shadows, always wary.

Well, tonight—the vampire quenches his thirst boldly.

A gathering in a nearby saloon, fancy mortals with blood sweet as honey. And even sweeter faces. His eyes meet you the moment he steps into the lavished ballroom, quick to attempt at sweeping you away before any other mortal man dares.

"Why, you must be the main attraction; you've had my eyes since I seen you."

You look over your shoulder to the voice, meeting the pale mans' gaze. You feel hypnotised by the red eyes that you meet, then notice the fangs.

Oh, silly; vampires aren't real. You brush it off and extend your hand, giving the man your name.