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How I figured out my coworker is a vampire

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“So… are you really Béri Balogh Ádám?”

“What? Of course not, you dimwit,” Feri spat – literally. Until his fangs receded, it was difficult to speak without excess saliva ruining his delivery. He’d at least managed to train away the lisp after the first decade.

Peti rubbed the quickly fading puncture marks on his neck, not seeming half as bothered as Feri had expected. “Well, I figured, even if he wasn’t from round Transylvania and all…”

“I was turned in 1963! I’m not even a hundred years old! And why aren’t you shaking in terror from this unholy abomination?”

Blinking guilelessly at him, Peti shrugged. “I dunno… You’ve always been kind of. Vampirical, I guess? I’m used to it.” He held up his ever-present phone. “And I checked on the internet, the average rate of suction the human mouth could create through two small bite holes isn’t so high, and since you avoided my jugular even when you went, y'know –”

“The technical term is blood frenzy,” Feri said, looking away. “And it hasn’t happened since before the fall of communism since people KNOW not to bother me until I’ve had my special coffee in the evening!”

“Ahhh!” Peti grinned. “Like, like – I dun drink vine? Only with coffee, instead.”

“You are the most imbecilic little…” his mutterings trailed off. “Will you tell anyone?”

“Tell? On you, maestro? Of course not.” Peti got up, stumbling only a little, and Feri caught him grudgingly. “As long as you let me take a selfie. I’ve already got the hashtags planned out.”