To say that he's not thinking clearly would be an understatement. The second he tastes the blood in his mouth, there's nothing else in the world, nothing else he could even begin to focus on. He doesn't want to let go of Ned's neck, doesn't want to break away for even a second. It's like a very strong alcoholic drink consumed too fast -- one moment he's feeling almost normal, the next moment he feels like his mind is reeling, like everything is upside down.
When Ned elbows him, though, when he shoves him away, reality begins to seep back in. To say he snaps back into awareness would be implying that it happens quickly. It doesn't. There's a moment spent blinking in confusion, a moment where his tongue darts out to taste the blood on his lips, and the words Ned is speaking sounds like they're coming from far away, or maybe underwater.
After a few seconds, though, he understands the meaning of the words, the blood dripping onto the ground, and he stares in horror, even as the sight of the dripping blood makes his stomach jump with anticipation and hunger. Meyer is many things -- a drug dealer, a gambler, a gangster, and generally amoral -- but the one thing he's always prided himself on is the fact that he doesn't lose control. This, though, this couldn't be defined as anything but a loss of control, and it's that realization that makes him reel back, putting a safe distance between himself and Ned.
"I'm... I didn't..." He wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, disgusted by the blood because of what it represents, not how it tastes. "I didn't mean to." It's a weak protest, but it's true, and it sickens him.
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When Ned elbows him, though, when he shoves him away, reality begins to seep back in. To say he snaps back into awareness would be implying that it happens quickly. It doesn't. There's a moment spent blinking in confusion, a moment where his tongue darts out to taste the blood on his lips, and the words Ned is speaking sounds like they're coming from far away, or maybe underwater.
After a few seconds, though, he understands the meaning of the words, the blood dripping onto the ground, and he stares in horror, even as the sight of the dripping blood makes his stomach jump with anticipation and hunger. Meyer is many things -- a drug dealer, a gambler, a gangster, and generally amoral -- but the one thing he's always prided himself on is the fact that he doesn't lose control. This, though, this couldn't be defined as anything but a loss of control, and it's that realization that makes him reel back, putting a safe distance between himself and Ned.
"I'm... I didn't..." He wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, disgusted by the blood because of what it represents, not how it tastes. "I didn't mean to." It's a weak protest, but it's true, and it sickens him.