"D-does that mean you're not going to eat me?" Ned asks, half-hopeful. Maybe he has the wrong impression. Maybe Charlie is just bringing both of them back for, oh, he doesn't know, a good scolding. Maybe this has nothing to do with Ned, maybe he just wants to make Meyer feel bad for having fed on him. As vehement as he was earlier that Charlie was wrong to dislike that Meyer had been turned into a vampire against his will, he thinks he likes that scenario a lot better than some of the options that had been running through his imagination.
But no, who is he kidding? There's no way that's all this is. That wouldn't explain the weird, intensely creepy smelling. Wouldn't explain the odd, jealous possessiveness. Ned remembers, incongruously, what Meyer had said about Charlie stealing shiny things and stashing them away. Is he registering as a shiny thing, somehow? And why the hell is Charlie breathing smoke?
He's glad to be able to breathe again, even if it does hurt having his arm wrenched behind his back like that. Ned turns to look at Meyer, and right now, he doesn't have any pity for his stumbling, his helplessness, his look of ineffective apology. Ned mouths 'HELP ME' at him. Why wasn't he even trying?
Ned knows why, of course. Their spat aside, Charlie is his friend, his business partner, someone he's known his whole life. Ned is just some hapless, unfortunately tasty guy he's had a couple of conversations with. Maybe he's planning on having another little meal, when they get to where they are going.
Just when Ned thinks things can't possibly get worse, he realizes that, even though Charlie let go of his neck, it's starting to get hard to breathe. He absolutely does not have the time for a panic attack right now, he thinks, but his body has plans of its own. He keeps walking, hanging his head and trying to gasp for air as quietly as he can. At one point, his knees are knocking so badly that they give out, and he stumbles, nearly falls, catches himself.
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But no, who is he kidding? There's no way that's all this is. That wouldn't explain the weird, intensely creepy smelling. Wouldn't explain the odd, jealous possessiveness. Ned remembers, incongruously, what Meyer had said about Charlie stealing shiny things and stashing them away. Is he registering as a shiny thing, somehow? And why the hell is Charlie breathing smoke?
He's glad to be able to breathe again, even if it does hurt having his arm wrenched behind his back like that. Ned turns to look at Meyer, and right now, he doesn't have any pity for his stumbling, his helplessness, his look of ineffective apology. Ned mouths 'HELP ME' at him. Why wasn't he even trying?
Ned knows why, of course. Their spat aside, Charlie is his friend, his business partner, someone he's known his whole life. Ned is just some hapless, unfortunately tasty guy he's had a couple of conversations with. Maybe he's planning on having another little meal, when they get to where they are going.
Just when Ned thinks things can't possibly get worse, he realizes that, even though Charlie let go of his neck, it's starting to get hard to breathe. He absolutely does not have the time for a panic attack right now, he thinks, but his body has plans of its own. He keeps walking, hanging his head and trying to gasp for air as quietly as he can. At one point, his knees are knocking so badly that they give out, and he stumbles, nearly falls, catches himself.