no subject

[ He laughs at that. Because what a thing to worry about, but because there's a note of truth to it. A note of something that maybe both of them are a little too aware of. That this isn't a ghostless place. Leon might be bones in a crypt hundreds of miles away. Dracula might be ashes in a tiny jar a few hundred feet from that crypt. But part of them is still here, trapped in this day four centuries back. Watching and disapproving immensely.

Trevor is used to disapproval. May as well get it out of the way. ]

Hey, Leon's horse, or Dracula's horse, or whoever's horse you are. I'm fucking this vampire.