Everything's not all right, not even close, but he has no idea how to express that, because this close to Ned, the only thing that's going through his mind is how hungry he is. He can't believe he's been able to repress the urge for this long, now that he's come face to face with someone. Just looking at the vein on the side of Ned's neck is bad enough, and smelling him -- he's almost certain he can smell his blood, something that he'll later think is crazy, but which makes perfect sense right now -- is even worse.

He may not be much faster than usual, but he's still moving quickly enough to grab for Ned's arm with one hand, a fumbling attempt to hold him right where he is so he can lunge for his neck, or his shoulder, or whatever he can reach. Having never done this before, his motions aren't smooth, and he's acting on sheer instinct, but if it allows him to sink his teeth into bare skin, he'll take what he can get.

The only time he'd ever tasted blood before had been his own blood, blood in his mouth from being punched in the face, most likely, and he hadn't enjoyed the taste of it. He'd never even thought about tasting someone else's, never conceived of himself as the type of person to lunge for someone's veins and attack them as though he was starving. But then, he'd never been a vampire before, and the taste of Ned's blood promises to be just as intoxicating as it smells.