"I wath gonna caw you." The black-caped figure that's appeared at Raylan's elbow holds up a finger. "Ang on, thorry."
Jim classily (well, with as much class as one can muster for the act) spits out a set of fake plastic vampire fangs, tucking them into his pocket. If he knew Raylan had given some thought to having to explain his costume, he would've congratulated the man on his foresight; he's had to explain himself about a dozen times over now, and reassure one vampire that he means no insult and is only portraying a character from a book from his universe.
Who knew Dracula could be such a pain?
"I was going to call," he repeats, smiling, "but I wasn't sure we were on close enough terms that me calling wasn't going to be creepy." In other words: how's your shoulder?
no subject
Jim classily (well, with as much class as one can muster for the act) spits out a set of fake plastic vampire fangs, tucking them into his pocket. If he knew Raylan had given some thought to having to explain his costume, he would've congratulated the man on his foresight; he's had to explain himself about a dozen times over now, and reassure one vampire that he means no insult and is only portraying a character from a book from his universe.
Who knew Dracula could be such a pain?
"I was going to call," he repeats, smiling, "but I wasn't sure we were on close enough terms that me calling wasn't going to be creepy." In other words: how's your shoulder?