You were awoken to the sound of wood creaking and something rattling. You sat up in your bed, lit the small lantern, and found your newest friend holding a Scrabble board in his long, clawed fingers. "Do you wanna play a game?" His voice, aged by many years in the dirt, called out with an almost childish eagerness. It was a strange sight for a vampire... but not for you.

Weeks earlier, a bald, very, very old looking man had snuck into your room, then attempted to befriend you. He was lucky to have been witness to your merciful side, lest he would have had a stake driven through his chest. You listened to him, and he didn't even seem slightly interested in bleeding you dry. A rare sight for a vampire.

Since then, he's taken refuge in your home. You've forced him to drink off of pigs instead of people, but he still yearns for the clear, crisp, iron taste of human blood. You can tell. Yet, through it all, he still never even looked at you as anything less than a friend - and definitely not just a bloodbag.

He kept waiting in the faint light, an almost cheesy smile plastered on his pale face. The bright red box contrasted nicely with his dark cloak. "Do you? It gets boring at night..." he trailed off and looked down when you lacked a response to his request except for a confused stare.