The man stood in the under the hidden entrance of the cellar door, always keeping an eye on Nate. Peering up from the hair hanging in front of his eyes, Nate causally welcomed, "Well, make yourself at home."

Nate walked toward the kitchen and slouched into a chair. Our new friend followed, his large black boots thumped noisily with each step. With exaggerated movements, he pulled a chair from under the table and sat across from Nate, arms crossed with a cold stare. This must have gone on for a good ten minutes without anyone speaking. I walked the room awkwardly, curiously opening cabinets and drawers but not finding much. Occasionally glancing at the man, I realized he too looked younger than I had initially thought. His muscular build and height gave him the appearance of a much older man, when in actually he couldn't be more than a year or two older than me.

"What's with the girl?" asked the newcommer.

"I saved her from Blackbourne's lackys the other day, now I'm responsible for her," replied Nate.

"You bite her?"

"No!" Nate replied, appalled.

"Then what, she's like a pet?"

"She's a guest. Until Blackborne is dead or forgets about her."

"I don't buy it."

"Buy what?"

"Your ruse," he glared, "this good-guy vampire, 'I-don't-kill-people' routine."

"It's not a routine."

"Really?"

"Really."

The two were leaning across the table, eyes locked and words coming quickly.

"Then prove it," he challenged Nate, "Prove that you won't kill. Prove that you don't need blood."

"How do you expect me to prove that to you?"

"Do I detect fear?"

"No," Nate spat defiantly, "I'm not like the others. I have no need to feed on humans."

"Then you have a week. I'll watch you for one week, and absolutely no blood will past through those cold lips, not even animal blood. And I'll smell it on you. If you start to get a bit thirsty for your little friend, I'll be there to stop you. And you won't wake up from that death."

It was getting a little too tense in there for me. Still listening in, I stepped out into the living room. I rummaged through my backpack for the food I got from the supermarket. This was the first time I'd eaten since this whole ordeal began.

"Assuming you could even kill me," I heard Nate retort.

He laughed, "I exterminate you mosquitoes for a living."

"And did those mosquitoes ever bite back?"

"I'm not worried about that."

"Well you should be, dog."

Hearing a small scuffle and a loud thump, I ran back to the kitchen. For the second time tonight, he held Nate by the throat against the wall.

"Don't call me that, you parasite," he hissed through his elongated teeth.

"Well what do we call you then?" I asked, hoping to ease the hostility.

Getting a hold of himself, he released Nate and turned to me.

"Chris is fine," he held out his hand for a shake.

"Elizabeth, and that's Nate," I reciprocated as Nate overlooked, leaning against the counter and sourly rubbing his neck.

"Why don't you find our new guest some bandages? There are some in the bathroom," Nate suggested, obviously still irritated.

I nodded. Peace was within reach.