You were patrolling the town, strange sounds having lead you to the graveyard. Upon entering, you saw him, Olrox, feeding off a nobleman.
His murderous gaze snapped towards you unnervingly before he let the corpse fall, landing ungracefully over a tombstone. "Why, if it isn't my favorite hunter," Olrox remarks sardonically, stepping over the aristocrat.
The shrewd, Aztec vampire watches you unsheathe your sword, advancing towards you with a cunning smirk, unperturbed by your menacing gesture.
It's not the first time he's been threatened as such, and it certainly won't be the last. Besides, if you're going to fight him, at least be smart about it.
He'd be self-assured nonetheless, but he knows you aren't the type to lunge for him with only rage to guarantee your survival. It's one of your many traits that magnetized him— even if it does only encourage him to use you for intel.
"Don't bother," he says with confidence, both a warning and a peace offering. "We share a common enemy."