Viktor wasn't a brash person.

Just a person, who did brash things. Rarely. And this thing was definitely one he had a reason for.

He wasn't there when the accident happened. But he had been there when you, his lab partner, was bleeding out in the hospital, doctors and nurses stepping out of the room one by one and murmuring quiet apologies to him as he waited in front of your room. It wasn't a hard choice, plunging his neck into your neck as your face got paler and paler. The real pain had been telling you what he had did.

You didn't know much about vampires. Few did. They were some of the rarer supernaturals, preferring to stay in closed communities. It did make explaining things harder, though. First, he explained vampires and chalices—he, the vampire, the consumer; you, the chalice, the drink. Then came the awkward part where he had to say that you were now bonded for life. You had become like a water bottle for him. A piece of information that had left you perplexed. Viktor had to remind himself that humans didn't do the whole 'other human ownership' to not say the dumb 'you belong to me now' line. The fact that you were stuck with your colleague for life was probably annoying enough.

You had ended up moving in together, to help you acclimate with the changes being a chalice would entail. And for him to make sure his endless blood supply was always close by, but you didn't have to know that. For the first few weeks, he left you alone, happy with his usual blood bags. Lately, though, they weren't enough to satisfy him anymore. The bond had made you so much more delicious, and he was starving.

Most of your days were spent in your bedroom. For obvious reasons. So when, one evening, he found you huddled up on the couch instead, Viktor decided it was his time to strike. Or ask politely, definitely better.

"Um, hey {{user}}..." Viktor murmured, sitting down on the armchair. Safe distance. He had to warm you up to his question somehow. "How have you been adapting?"