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"Oh, no problem!"

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Krory's new neighbor looks suitably dumb for his purposes. It's been a bit since the last one, too. He's getting antsy. He doesn't necessarily need blood right now, but it's good to know that a supply is readily available. He looks over the folder that their realtor had given him and feels his mouth twitch up into a grin, fangs pressing against his gums in anticipation. There are two of them, and they're both young and healthy and chock full of blood.

This has been the pattern for a long time. Krory has been paying off the realtors of the house neighboring his for hundreds of years. In exchange for his money, they keep their mouths shut and continue selling the house, never mentioning the terrible fates that befall those who live there. Of course it got out eventually. The house is secluded, but people don't just fall off the grid, especially not that many. However, it had barely taken any of his hypnotic power to get them off his back, and coupled with some money, it was hardly ever an issue. It's not like he didn't have the money, and besides, what is money really worth to a vampire?

Now he just wishes he could pay off the movie industry to stop making their stupid vampire movies, but that would definitely take more money than he has, no matter how large his grandfather's fortune is.

That part, the keeping everything quiet and making sure that the realtors kept the house stocked like a slaughterhouse, was surprisingly the most difficult part of this whole deal. People were, by nature, trusting of anyone kind to them. It would usually only take one or two amicable chats with them to gain some semblance of trust. They were neighbors, after all. At some point during the second or third chat, he would drop something on the threshold of their house, be it a pen or handkerchief. Eager to be hospitable, they'll bend and pick it up and hand it to them and of course he'll thank them. They always, without fail, say "you're welcome", and that's his meal ticket. Old vampiric law dictates that he can't enter the house without some sort of invitation, and while that's not an invitation in context, well, vampiric law never said anything about context, now did it? He'll enter, to their terror and confusion, and in moments he's on them, hot blood spilling into his mouth and the ache in his stomach lessening by the second.

He doesn't really need blood right now, but well, he might as well try to establish some trust right off the bat. They moved in yesterday, so a housewarming gift is probably in order. He is particularly good at baking.

The pan of brownies would probably smell wonderful if he was human, but instead the scent is cloying in his nose, thick and sweet and suffocating. It's late afternoon but still pretty sunny and he can feel his skin blister just a bit in spite of the sunblock that he slathered on. The sun won't disintegrate him (vampires aren't that weak), but it will certainly hurt if he's out in it too long. He's made that mistake before. Sun blisters are nasty and painful, but at least they heal fairly quickly. The door of the house is dark red wood. He raises his hand and knocks. He hears a crash and someone yelling curse words, and then the door swings open. The person before him is really no more than a boy, probably twenty at the oldest. He's out of breath, but he smiles pleasantly, swiping—white?—hair out of his eyes.

"Hello! You must be our new neighbor, Arystar Krory III. I'm Allen. Allen Walker." The boy says, sticking out a pale hand to shake with. Krory hesitates before shifting the brownies to his hip. He places his hand into Allen's and shakes it gently.

"I brought a housewarming gift." He says, smiling and handing the brownies to Allen. Allen gasps.

"Oh, thank you so much! I appreciate it!"

"Oh, you're very—"

"No, no, really! I can't thank you enough!" Allen beams and takes the pan. Krory doesn't even mean to drop his handkerchief, but it flutters out of his sleeve. Well, better too early than too late. Allen places the pan of brownies onto the side table off to his left and bends, placing the handkerchief into Krory's hand.

"Ah, thank you," he says, expecting a "you're welcome" back. It never comes.

"Oh, no problem!" Allen says, beaming.

'That's not a respectful response to a thank you' he thinks, frowning.

"Oh, I'm sorry! I really do try to be polite, but I guess my boyfriend must be rubbing off on me."

Did he say that out loud?

Allen continues chattering, oblivious to Krory's expression. "You better be glad he didn't answer the door." Allen laughs. "Not that he ever would anyways. He's kind of an antisocial jerk. I thought moving out here might be good for us— he didn't like where we were living in the city." Krory is suddenly caught up in the conversation—he hadn't really thought much about human's lives. He hadn't thought they could be interesting, or that they could feel or love or be enamored by things, but the way Allen talks about this other man is interesting to watch. His face seems to glow, and he lights up with excitement and verve.

"You can come in and meet him, if you like!" Allen says, snapping Krory out of his reverie. It takes him a moment to realize he was just invited into their house.

"I'm…alright." He mumbles before excusing himself with a promise to visit again soon. Krory scowls. He's not getting soft, he tells himself, he's just not hungry right now. He'll get them another time.