domesticoded:

                ❛ oh, but it is, as far we’re concerned. ❜ or haven’t you been listening?

                eyeing donovan with a look a teacher might give a student texting in class, he maintains his feigned glare of sharp disapproval for a moment longer until realizing he must soften the blows before they blossom. NO DOUBT these circumstances must answer for some form of exhaustion … comprehending ten years worth of necessary isms and how-to’s, all hastily boiled down into an essential and sinister starter kit — it may very well be the most, if not the only form of mental activity the boy has experienced in decades, the poor thing. perhaps he’s earned another coffee break …

                ❛ dear donovan, because my affection for you knows no end, i must be the one to tell you —- you do have the tendency to come on very STRONG. your cologne, for example—– … ❜

                 ———a nudge. an INTERNAL nudge. poke poke —– ( quiet, quiet! ) ——– ‘what is it?’, he asks, the echoing cackle of his dear old friend signifying what it truly is. the beast within stirs with such suspenseful elation that dexter must avert his gaze from the unsightly thing with talons that has hatched and roosted atop donovan’s skull. eyes shift, dart, desperate to capture the sight of mobility at the far end of the alley, the sooner the better. and they land, onto greater ( and more aesthetically pleasing ) things, ensnaring their prey in the crosshairs of his dark passenger’s very own SPLASH ZONE — for blood will be spilled, this is known. 

how lively! lively, lovely is their playmate, so ignorantly caught in diligent dexter’s invisible booby traps and devices. and there it is, the passenger of his very own —— a winged guardian of MACABRE hovering at the shoulder blades before encompassing their dinner’s silhouette, exiling the surrounding light until dexter cannot recognize the familiar face —- but it’s him. he knows this to be true without a shadow of a doubt. he feels it to be true. and his passenger is seldom, if ever wrong. nudge, nudge. hello, dexter.

                ❛ PATIENCE, young grasshopper. the utmost patience. remember: it’s my way or no way at all. ❜ they warn cohesively, cautious so as not to pillage the blissful ignorance of barbarous bambi so soon.

                he—-mr. passenger rights the noose of obstinate fishing wire in his hand, in preparation of guerrilla warfare. showtime.

               ❛ Okay — I get it! ❜

              Although he clearly didn’t — not really. It was easy to express such verbally, but physically was a different matter entirely. The way that his hands instinctively reach up to pull at the collar of his shirt — of course rather pricey and highly fashionable — just enough so that he was able to take a quick wiff of the said cologne that he was wearing completely contradicted the whole ’getting it’ schtick, but the words did serve a purpose nonetheless. In essence, it was his nice way of telling Dexter to shut up.

              After all, proper manners were always a necessity. Especially when dealing with someone who has a tendency to carry around an unknown amount of tranquilizers. Not only that, but Donovan was clearly in no position to do nor say anything that would possibly upset or irritate the other man.

              He didn’t want to bite the hand that feeds, so to speak.

              In the end all that he could actually do was sit back and pay close attention as Dexter proceeded to make himself comfortable in the proverbial driver’s seat. So calm, collected and elaborate as emerald orbs began to analyze and thoroughly examine the area in which surrounded the two of them. He obviously had a liking to be calculated about everything that he did whereas Donovan, on the other hand, was the polar opposite; he was used to being much more abrupt and rash about things — a habit in which eventually had to come undone. Stealth was never an area of expertise as far as Donovan was concerned, but that was obviously something that he was going to have to learn in time.

              But the question remained; could he do it? A question in which he wasn’t exactly to confident about. If anything, it was Dexter’s words that made him question himself. Not only the comment about his way being the only way, but the way that he mentioned patience; perhaps the number one requirement. The amount of doubt that lingered within the otherwise cocky man was COLOSSAL. 

              I mean, it was rather difficult to be anything but when all you could focus on was the veins on the necks of the plethora of people that flocked the perimeter. Can you just imagine the amounts of blood that existed around him — all within reach? ASTOUNDING. It was more than enough to cure a drought — the drought that this blood virus had Donovan cursed with anyway. For even just a second, he couldn’t get his hunger to cease; to slow down a little bit from the way that it was beginning to quickly overwhelm him.

              The longer that his focus remained locked on the pumping veins, the more recklessly that his thoughts began to scatter. Delusions of himself happily devouring a seemingly endless amount of blood. How desperate he was to quench the thirst that relentlessly tortured him. If his way of feeding wasn’t so barbaric and monstrous it would have been rather — sad.

              ❛ La-di-da, buddy. There’s plenty of people around here. Just pick one and kill them already, for crying out loud. ❜